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livesincerely · 4 years ago

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it’s so easy (too easy) to love you, ch. 1

Also on Ao3

00000

Davey’s just gotten out of class—literally just walked out the door—when his phone starts ringing.

“Davey,” Tony says the moment he answers, not even giving Davey time to say hello, “can you swing by the apartment real quick?”

Davey sighs. “Are you locked out of the house again?”

There’s a guilty silence. Then, “Or maybe I just wanna see you, huh? You don’t know.”

“Tony.”

“Charlie’s the one that lost the spare,” Tony capitulates immediately, there’s an indignant “Hey!” somewhere in the background, “and I left my keys in my locker ‘cause I thought Charlie had his—”

There’s a scuffle of noise, then Charlie’s voice breaks in, “—don’t listen to him Davey, I asked him before we even got on the subway if he had his keys and he said he did but he didn’t even check—”

“—well, I thought you had yours, didn’t I?—”

“—and he was twenty minutes late picking me up from band practice because he was too busy making out with Spot Conlon to come help me carry my stuff—”

“—that was supposed to be a secret you little shit!”

“—you started it!”

Davey pulls the phone away from his ear as the other side of the line descends into a mess of indistinct yelling. He thinks about trying to get their attention, but he decides to just start heading towards the apartment, muting his side of the call while he waits them out—they’ll remember him eventually.

In the meantime, Davey sends a quick text:

Tony and Charlie locked themselves out of the house again

He’s not expecting a response, but Jack must be in-between projects because he gets one almost immediately.

jc again?

And you’re going to have to get a new spare made

fuck okay i’ll take care of it. are you heading over?

I’m walking there now

ur the light of my life dave

Davey can’t help but smile at this, a soft feeling fluttering in his chest. Before he can write back, Jack sends another text:

how did ur midterm go?

I feel good about it! Def did better than I thought it would!

duh youve been living in the library all week ofc ur gonna do great. ill swing by the grocery omw home and pick up some ice cream to celebrate. do we need anything else while im there?

Get a bell pepper and some tomato paste, I’m going to make spaghetti for dinner. And we need more laundry detergent.

fuck yes im starving! can we do garlic bread too?

Come home on time and we’ll see.

u drive a hard bargain. kerian owes me a favor so he can stay late tonight lol

“Davey?” The sound of Charlie’s voice, tinny and muffled, prompts Davey to lift his phone back to his ear; it seems like he might’ve been calling Davey’s name for a while. “Are you still there?”

“I’m still here,” Davey confirms.

“So are ya comin’ or what?” Tony cuts in, ever impatient. “I’m roasting out here!”

“Well, I was thinking about leaving you to ruminate on your poor life choices,” Davey responds dryly, “but I guess I can come let you in, since you asked so nicely.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Charlie says.

“I’ll be there soon,” Davey confirms.

“Hurry, will ya? Much longer and I’m gonna get heatstroke and die,” Tony declares.

Davey rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Tony.”

00000

When he arrives at Jack’s building some twenty minutes later, Davey finds Tony and Charlie right where he expects them: crowded together in the little bit of shade the roof’s overhang offers, wearing identical grumpy expressions that brighten immediately when they spot him approaching.

"Finally!" Tony exclaims, shooting to his feet. "What took you so long?"

“Stop losing your keys and you won’t have to wait for me,” Davey counters, slotting his key into the deadbolt and hefting open the heavy exterior door. He props it open with his hip and lets Tony and Charlie scurry past him into the AC. “You couldn’t get anyone to buzz you in?”

“Old Man Davis hasn’t gotten his hearing aid replaced yet,” Charlie explains as they climb the stairs up to the second floor, “and Mrs. Ikeda isn’t home.”

“She joined a new book club,” Tony adds. “She won’t be back till late.”

“Oh, I’ll have to ask her about it when I see her next,” Davey muses.

He gets the apartment door unlocked and the boys pile inside, tossing their backpacks down with dramatic groans of relief. Charlie makes a beeline for his bedroom; Davey expects Tony to do the same but he takes a seat at the kitchen table instead, booting up his laptop with a couple of keystrokes.

“I’ve got a paper due in English tomorrow,” Tony explains. “Can you look it over once it’s finished? Maybe later this evening”

“Of course,” Davey replies. “What’s it on?”

“Lord of the Flies.”

Davey’s nose wrinkles up. “Oh, I hated that one. What’s the essay prompt?”

“Identify Golding’s argument about human nature as proposed in Lord of the Flies,” Tony reads off the top of the assignment outline. “Then make an argument agreeing or disagreeing with his assessment, using evidence from the text.”

Davey rolls his eyes. “Good to see that high school literature classes haven’t changed much in the last few years,” he says with a sigh. “How much have you written so far?”

“Oh, I haven’t even started it yet,” Tony casually rebuts.

“Is everything going okay?” Davey asks, frowning slightly. “If things are getting worse we can make an appointment—”

But Tony waives his concerns aside. “Nah, this is regular old procrastination, not ADHD procrastination. Like ya said, Lord of the Flies sucks ass, so I just didn’t want to write it.”

“Well, let one of us know if you start having trouble,” Davey says.

"Okay, mom,” Tony agrees, somewhat distracted. He’s already got a blank document pulled up on his laptop, a battered and thoroughly dog-eared copy of the book laying open beside him.

Davey looks at him for another moment, then he shrugs and continues making his way into the kitchen—he figures there’s no need to worry unless Racer starts actually missing assignments. And he’s right: Lord of the Flies does suck ass.

By the time Jack gets home they’re each fully entrenched in different activities: Davey’s washed a sink full of dishes and is working on drying the last few pieces of silverware, Tony is still posted up at the kitchen table, carefully hammering out a draft of his paper, and there are the familiar sounds of Charlie working through different musical scales on his oboe in the back bedroom.

“Honey, I’m home!” Jack calls jokingly as he enters. There’s a rustle of plastic and soft thunk of the front door closing behind him, then he comes around the corner into the dining room with an armful of groceries.

“Hey, Jack,” Davey greets absently. He starts rifling through the bags almost before Jack can finish putting them down. “Did you get the tomato—?”

“I got the tomato paste,” Jack says, kicking off his shoes and leaving them in the entryway with all the others, “and I picked up some more of that fancy coffee you like from the place around the corner, even though it’s expensive as all hell.”

“Don’t judge me,” Davey replies, gathering up an armful of vegetables and carrying them further into the kitchen. “You spend a semester grading 'Intro to Shakespeare' homework and tell me how much caffeine you consume.”

“I’m just saying, the rest of us schmucks drink regular coffee and do just fine,” Jack continues. “You can feed your crippling caffeine addiction just as well with Folgers and it’ll cut down on the grocery bill.”

“Watch it, Kelly,” Davey says, pointing a finger teasingly in Jack’s direction. “Smartasses don’t get dinner.”

“‘s that so?” Jack asks with a grin. “Then why the hell are we still feeding Tony?”

“I heard that,” Tony grumbles from the kitchen table.

“Yeah, you were supposed to,” Jack says, moving over to Tony and slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. Tony bats at Jack’s hand but makes no real attempt to get away. Then Jack says, “So, I hear you and your brother lost another set of keys.”

Tony throws Davey a look of the deepest betrayal. “You told Jack?”

“Of course he did,” Jack says. “Someone’s gonna have to get new ones made, and it sure ain’t gonna be either half of the dynamic duo.”

“Charlie lost the spare,” Tony says, mercilessly throwing Charlie under the bus while he’s not in the room to defend himself. “And I didn’t lose my keys, I just left them in my locker.”

“Uh huh, save it for the judge,” Jack responds, ruffling Tony’s hair. “Just know if I end up having to change the deadbolt, it’s coming outta your subway money.”

“Jackie, leave Tony alone,” Davey comments mildly over Tony’s spluttering protests. “He needs to work on that paper and you’re distracting him.”

“Yeah, Jack,” Tony repeats, a little smug. “You’re distracting me.”

Davey turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised. Tony quickly busies himself with his homework.

Davey makes quick work of washing a green pepper and peeling an onion, then starts dicing both into small, neat pieces. He feels more than hears Jack sidle up behind him: the familiar weight of his gaze, the solid presence at his back. He stands there quietly, leaning against the counter-top and just watching Davey cook; unbothered, Davey leaves him be for the moment and moves to the stove, scraping the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into a pan to start softening.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Davey glances over his shoulder at Jack and says, “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me with this? You know there’s no loitering in my kitchen.”

“Well, I’m nothin’ if not a law abidin’ citizen,” Jack drawls in answer, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He rolls up his shirt sleeves, exposing the long, muscular line of his forearms, and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. “Where do you want me?”

Davey licks his lips. “Think you can handle browning the hamburger?”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Jack responds with a smirk.

Davey steps out of the way, letting Jack take his place in front of the sauce pan while he gets a pot of water set up on a different burner, salting it so it boils faster. They settle into their familiar dinner-routine, moving around and past each other with ease as they work on getting everything ready, chattering idly all the while.

“I’ve gotta head back out this evening,” Jack says at one point, as he sets the tray of garlic bread in the oven to toast. “Johnson’s got me working a night shoot and I have to be downtown by 9.”

“How long is the session?” Davey asks. “Here, will you open this?”

“We’re scheduled for five hours, but we might get to wrap it up early if everything goes well.” Jack’s hand brushes against the small of Davey’s back and they trade places again, Davey stepping back up to the stove-top and Jack rifling around in one of the drawers for a can opener.

“Are ya spendin’ the night or are ya headin’ back to campus?”

“Depends on how much help Tony needs with his paper,” Davey replies, shaking his head. He takes the can when Jack hands it back to him and empties it into the saucepan, then gives the whole thing a good stir. “We might be at it a while.”

Jack huffs out a laugh. “Well, if you do spend the night, go ahead and take the bed. The extra blankets are in the usual place.”

Davey sets down the spoon he’s holding, crossing his arms across his chest. “Jack,” he says warningly.

“Davey,” Jack echoes back in the exact same tone of voice. In the background there’s the faint sound of Tony muttering, “Jesus, not this again.”

“Jack, I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed,” Davey says, rehashing the same old argument for what feels like the millionth time. “I’m perfectly fine taking the couch.”

“Or you could do the smart thing and just take the bed,” Jack counters as he always does. “I’m not even gonna be here to use it.”

“You’ll want an actual mattress when you get home, especially if you’re out late.” Davey argues. “I don’t even have class tomorrow, it’ll be fine.”

“If you don’t take the bed I’ll just carry you in there once I get back,” Jack says, as if that's a perfectly reasonable course of action. “So you might as well save me the trouble.”

Davey sputters. “That’s not— You can’t just— That only happened a couple of times!” he finally gets out.

"Well, actually, it's been more like four or five times," Jack says with a smirk. "But hey, who's counting?"

"That trick won't keep working," Davey grumbles, feeling the back of his neck start to heat up.

“You sleep like a fucking rock, Dave,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “Why wouldn’t it keep working?”

“No, see, that’s exactly why I should take the couch,” Davey insists. “It’s not like the sound of you coming in will wake me up—”

Jack turns to face him. Davey cuts off, slightly startled—he hadn’t realized they were standing so close to each other.

“Just take the bed, Davey,” Jack all but orders, and those dark eyes with that low voice are a heady combination. “Please?”

Davey bites at his lower lip, suddenly flustered. “Fine,” he reluctantly concedes, hoping Jack will attribute his flushed face to the heat of the kitchen. “Just this once.”

"Thank you," Jack says with a dramatic heave of his chest, looking much too pleased with himself. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're letting the garlic bread burn," Davey answers tartly.

"Oh shit—!"

00000

Later that evening, after they’ve all finished eating and have cleaned up, Davey, Tony, and Charlie are still gathered around the table, working on various assignments.

Davey is finishing the readings for his Monday lecture in between helping Tony finalize the exact wording of his essay. Charlie sits opposite him, working through his geometry homework and every so often there’s a huff of breath and the rubbery scratch of an eraser—Davey makes a mental note to swipe some more pencils and notebook paper from the grad lounge when he’s there next.

Davey notices the time and frowns. “Jack,” he calls out, “it’s already 7:30. If you don’t leave soon you’re gonna be late for work.”

There’s a clamor of noise from down the hall, then Jack appears, freshly showered and fumbling to put on his socks and button up a clean shirt at the same time.

“Fuck, Johnson is gonna kill me,” Jack grumbles. He pats down his pockets, then groans. “Christ, has anyone seen my—”

“Your wallet and keys are on the counter by the microwave,” Davey says, pointing. “And take a jacket, it’s supposed to rain later.”

“Great, I’m sure the models will love that,” Jack says with a groan. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get through everything without getting rained out.”

He meanders his way over to the table, peering at Charlie’s homework from over his shoulder. “If Tony is still busy and ya get stuck, text me,” Jack tells him. “I probably won't be able to answer right away, but if ya send me a picture of the problem I can probably talk ya through it between shots.”

Charlie hums his acknowledgment, still scribbling furiously. Jack turns to Tony.

“Listen to whatever Davey tells you about your paper,” he advises. “The only reason I got through undergraduate writing was ‘cause Davey proofread all my shit before I turned it in.”

“I thought I was s’pposed to always listen to Davey,” Tony says distractedly, tongue poking out between his teeth as he types.

Jack pauses, considering. “Yeah, just do that.”

“Jack—”

“Oh, and Dave cooked, so you shitheads better do the dishes, get me?”

“Jack, you’re gonna be late,” Davey cuts in firmly, holding out Jack’s jacket for him.

“Alright, I’m going,” Jack says, shrugging it on, and he finally starts making moves towards the door.

He gives Charlie one last pat on the shoulder and cuffs Tony lightly across the back of the head in a slightly rougher, but no less affectionate goodbye, which is per usual. Then he turns to Davey, tips his chin up, and kisses him right on the mouth, short and sweet.

“Lock the door behind me and don’t forget to—” Jack stops mid-sentence, then turns bright red.

“Um,” says Charlie.

“Holy shit,” says Tony.

Jack’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Finally, he stammers out, “I u-uh— I-I d-didn’t mean—“

Davey doesn’t respond. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to—he’s frozen in place, his mind a sudden wash of static. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then Jack blurts, “gottagoseeyoulaterbye,” and bolts out the front door.

Davey’s not sure how long he stands there, staring blankly into space, utterly dumbfounded.

“Davey?” Charlie asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

There’s a strangled, choking noise. A split second later, Davey realizes it’s coming from him.

"...What just happened?"

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*final cut #*the writing desk #*editor's note #the one where it's domestic #oof this was a long time coming #this au might become its own series #the javid coparenting vibes are REAL and i NEED them #btw there will be a couple more chapters of this so stay tuned

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fortheheavenssake · 5 years ago

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💜💜 PG MM Anon(II) 💜💜 Interpretation Collection - 4

20. May 19

MM ANON ……… a personal loss………… the Dynamic Duo………… FPhishing……Nlcola Nike Snike ………… Hydroxy- foxy(do not do this at home)…………………” a suitable case for ( shhhhh) treatment “ ………… “ no comment “ …………… “ a game of cards old thing “…………… “patience Philip ……………” ………… ma’am , it’s Charlotte and George on tic-toc…………… “dance, gan, gan, you dance, … Sydney!!

Thank yoi😊❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

MAY 19/2020. RIDDLE#21

a personal loss

LOSS CAN BE MANY THINGS. WE HAVE SEEN THE MASSIVELY TALENTED MUSICIAN, ADELE, COME OUT IN SUPPORT OF THE SUSSEXES, TWICE RECENTLY. SHE, AS I HAVE SAID PREVIOUSLY, POSTED A PHOTO OF HERSELF NEARLY UNRECOGNIZABLE. SHE HAS LOST SO MUCH WEIGHT AND HER FACE LOOKS SO DIFFERENT WITHOUT ANY EXPLANATION. SHE OWES NONE TO ANYONE, ITS HER PERSONAL JOURNEY. I TRULY DOUBT THOUGH THAT SHE IS PERSONAL FRIENDS WITH THE SUSSEXES OR WE WOULD HAVE HEARD FROM HER BEFORE, SO WHY NOW? SHARED PLASTIC SURGEONS PERHAPS?

the Dynamic Duo…………

THIS USED TO BE BATMAN AND ROBIN. THEN THERE WAS THE FAB FOUR WHICH ORIGINALLY WERE THE BEATLES, THEN TWO ROYAL COUPLES, ONE OF WHICH NEVER REALLY EXISTED. WE HAVE SEEN THE EMERGENCE IN THE LAST YEAR OF A VERY CONFIDENT ROYAL COUPLE AND FAMILY, THE CAMBRIDGES. THEY ARE MARVELLOUS. THEY ARE AND HAVE BEEN FOR YEARS AND CONTINUE TO DO MARVELLOUS WORK REGARDING THE AREA OF MENTAL HEALTH AND WERE BRILLIANT DURING NURSES WEEK.

FPhishing……

THIS IS SCAMMING ONLINE. MOST OF OUR ROYALS AND FORMER GIRLFRIENDS, HAVE BEEN HACKED BEFORE, NOW THEIR SECURITY IS HIGHEST LEVEL. SO WHO IS PHISHING OR BEING PFHISHED? MADAM PERHAPS? SHE HAS NO MI5 OR ROYAL SECURITY ON HER DEVICES THAT IS CERTAIN.

Nlcola Nike Snike …………

SNP MINISTER, MY THEY SEEM TO HAVE IT OUT FOR MS STURGEON. RUMOURS OR MISLABELS OF COVERUP OF COVID 19 AT A NIKE CONFERENCE IN EDINBURGH IN FEBRUARY. SNIKE MEANS S***.

Hydroxy- foxy(do not do this at home)…………………”

I JUST CANNOT BELIEVE ANY DOCTOR COULD PRESCRIBE THIS. THE U.S. PRESIDENT HAS STATED PUBLICLY HE HAS BEEN TAKING HYDROXYCHOLORQUINE FOR A WEEK AND A HALF BECAUSE HE BELIEVES IT PROTECTS HIM FROM CORONOAVIRUS STRAIN CIVID-19. THIS DRUG IS GIVEN FOR MALARIA AND A NUMBER IF OTHER THINGS BUT THE PRODUCT MONOGRAPH IN NO WAY SUGGESTS ANY INDICATIONS OF USE FOR THIS PURPOSE. ALL PRESCRIPTION DRUGS HAS MONOGRAPHS WHICH ARE EXTENSIVE, INDICATIONS FOR USE, CONTRAINDICATIONS, SIDE EFFECTS ETC. ITS A BIG BOOK VALLED THE CPS IN CANADA. NO RECOMMENDATIONS YET THAT THIS IS FOR TREATMENT OF COVID AND IN FACT IS QUITE DANGEROUS.

“a suitable case for ( shhhhh) treatment “

SILENT TREATMENT IS SHHHHH. SO WHAT HAS BEEN DEEMED SUITABLE TO STAY SILENT? ARCHIES REAL SEX, LOCALE, PARENTAGE? THERE ARE MANY FACTS THAT WE WILL NEVER BE PRIVY TOO. WHEN HARRY WILL BE BACK? DIVORCE SOON? IT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED HOPEFULLY ANNULMENT BUT I REPEAT MYSELF.

HER CASE, AS IN LEGAL CASE, AGAINST THE MOS, I BET SHE WISHES SHE HAD REMAINED SILENT. HOW AND WHERE IS SHE GOING TO FIND FIVE FRIENDS TO TESTIFY? YEP, IN THIS CASE, IT IS SUITABLE THEY REMAIN SILENT, FOR THEIR OWN FUTURE.

NO FORMAL ANNIVERSARY WISHES FROM THE CAMBRIDGES, HMTQ……..SEEMS TO ME ANNULMENT OR DIVORCE, KIDS YOU KNOW I ME, I AM IN THE ANNULMENT CATEGORY, HAPPENED THE DAY THEY VISITED CANADA HOUSE. SO THERE IS TO ANNIVERSARY TO CONGRATULATE THEM ON, SINCE THEY ARE NOT MARRIED😁😁😁😁

“ no comment “

NO COMMENT INDEED. THE BRF HAVE STATED THEY WILL MAKE NO FURTHER PUBLIC COMMENTS ON THE SUSSEXES MONTHS AGO. SO THIS PAYBACK OF FROGMORE RENOVATIONS IS BEING LEFT TO PR AND THE MEDIA AND IT IS LOOKING PATHETIC.

“ a game of cards old thing “…………… “patience Philip ……………” ………… ma’am , it’s Charlotte and George on tic-toc…………… “dance, gan, gan, you dance, … Sydney!!

BACK TO WINDSOR, HMTQ AND HIMSELF ARE PLAYING CARDS, GONE IS THE JIGSAW PUZZLE. HE IS IMPATIENT WANTING HER TO MAKE HER MOVE, SHE IMPLORES HIS PATIENCE. THEY ARE INTERRUPTED BY SYDNEY, THE CAMBRIDGE CHILDREN ARE ON TIK TOK…SOCIAL MEDIAS NEWEST SERVICE THAT ALL THE YOUND KIDS ARE USING NOW. SOUNDS THEY HAVE MUSIC GOING, ARE DANCING AND THEY WANT GAN GAN TO DANCE ALONG….HIMSELF HAS HAD ENOUGH OF THE NOISE CALLING FOR SYDNEY! I HOPE THEY HAVE RESTOCKED HIS BODDINGTONS. 🤣🤣😂😂.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank yoi😊❤️❤️. *Entertainment purposes

————-

21. May 19

MM ANON …… Ana-adversity …… the gathering marital storm…………” first family visit will be the United States when normalisation hits ma’am” …………”life will return ma’am”……… Who is that? …………… guesting the testing ……… “ they won’t return early ma’am”…………… “one speaks to Catherine,daily , and the little ones” ……… “it’s interminable Sydney,” …” a Little top-up sir”

Thank you😊❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

MAY 19/2020. RIDDLE #22

TWO YEARS TODAY THE GATHERING OF UNHAPPY PEOPLE🤬😡🙁😩🥺😫😖

Ana-adversity ……

THROUGHOUT THE COVID EMERGENCY WORLDWIDE THERE HAVE BEEN AND STILL ARE CRITICAL SHORTAGES OF PPE, SUPPLIES, TEST KITS, VARIETY OF, TESTING IS WOEFULLY LOW IN NUMBERS, VARIOUS REGIONS HAVE VARIOUS EXPLANATIONS. HEALTHCARE WORKERS AND OTHER ESSENTIAL WORKERS JAVE BEEN PLACED AT HIGH RISK OF ADVERSITY AND MANY HAVE DIED WORLDWIDE.

the gathering marital storm…………

WE ARE IN FOR NEWS VERY VERY SOON. I HOPE IT IS ANNULMENT BECAUSE THAT MEANS AUTOMATIC LOSS OF MADAM’S TITLE BUT DIVORCE IS GOOD TOO. THE GACT THAT THERE WERE NO ANNIVERSARY WISHES CRICKETS 🦗🦗 FROM ANY OFFICIAL ROYAL TWITTER, INSTAGRAM ETC THAT I AM AWARE OF. EVERY DAY THERE ARE ARTICLES BRINGING HARRY’S NAME BACK IN, TODAY REMINDING US HE WAS AN INTEGRAL PART OF THE TRIO THAT STARTED HEADS TOGETHER. KIDS ANY DAY A HEADLINE WILL HAPPEN AND 💜💜🐼💜💜 PAGE WILL GO GREEN. I CAN HARDLY WAIT!!

“first family visit will be the United States when normalisation hits ma’am” …………”life will return ma’am”………

I BELIEVE HMTQ TO BE SPEAKING WITH LG, HE IS REASSURING HER THAT LIFE WILL RETURN, RESUME THE WAYS OF LIFE. AS THE PROCESS OF UNLOCKDOWNING IS COMING, THINGS WILL BE CLOSELY MONITORED. SOUNDING LIKE ONCE ALL IS COPACETIC, THE CAMBRIDGES WILL BE OFF TO AMERICA FOR A VISIT. THAT PUTS A SPANNER IN THE MIX OF MY IDEA/DELUSION OF CATHERIN BEING PREGNANT. MM ANON, EVER SINCE YOU USED THE PHRASE, SPANNER IN THE MIX , WAY BACK LAST YEAR IN A RIDDLE. I USE IT ALL THE TIME!! I THOUGHT CANADA HAD BEEN ON THE DIARY BEFORE ALL OF THIS. EITHER WAY IT WILL BE HUGELY POPULAR.

Who is that? ……………

NOW THIS CLUE BEFUDDLES ME. WHO IS ASKING THE QUESTION? COUKD BE MANY THINGS. WE HAVE ASKED OURSELVES THAT IN MADAMS RECENT PHOTOS, THEY ARE SO BIZARRE, SHE LOOKS SO UNLIKE HERSELF. BUT BETTER, WHO IS FARRY? THAT WAS A GREAT POST OF THE PHOTO SHOWING THIS CHAPS COMPLETELY BALD HEAD FROM THE BACK. THIS IS SOME LOW PAID LIKELY OUT OF WORK ACTOR. IS HE COMPLICIT TO FRAUD.? IS IT ILLEGAL TO PRETEND TO BE A PRINCE? I DONT KNOW BUT I SURE KNOW HE IS NOT NOT NOT OUR HARRY.

guesting the testing ………

SO MUCH CONTROVERSY NOW ABOUT COVID TESTING. IN THE DM, I WAS READING THAT THERE ARE TRUTHS COMING OUT NOW ABOUT DECISIONS MADE AROUND ADEQUATE TESTS, ADEQUATE SUPPLIES OF TESTS AND ADEQUATE NUMBER OF TESTS HAVING BEEN DONE BETWEEN THEN AND NOW. WHO HAS THE BEST TEST? IT IS NASAL PHARYNGEAL WHICH TAJES DAYS AND MANY FALSE NEGATIVES OR FINGER PRICKS/SEROLOGY AND HAS ITS OWN ISSUES. TRACK AND TRACE WAS NOT DONE IN EARLY STAGE IN THE U.K.

“ they won’t return early ma’am”……

HMTQ IS SPEAKING WITH LG AGAIN, REASSURING HER THE CAMBRIDGE CHILDREN WILL NOT RETURN TO SCHOOL EARLY. SAFETY IS PRIORITY ESPECIALLY FOR THE CHILDREN DIRECTLY IN LINE OF SUCCESSION.

……… “one speaks to Catherine,daily , and the little ones” ……… “it’s interminable Sydney,” …” a Little top-up sir”

AS USUAL OUR DEAR MM ANON ENDS WITH A SCENE BETWEEN HMTQ AND HIMSELF. SHE IS SAYING SHE KEEPS DAILY CONTACT WITH CATHERINE AND THE EVER GROWING CAMBRIDGE CHILDREN. I WONDER IF PART OF THIS IS PER MY SPECULATION IN A PREVIOUS RIDDLE OF THE CLUE FOUR, MEANING CATHERINE IS EXPECTING. GENERALLY DURING HER FIRST TRIMESTER SHE HAS SUFFERED GREATLY. HIMSELF IS SAYING THIS PROTRACTED LOCKDOWN IS INTERMINABLE. EITHER THAT OR HIMSELF IS IRRITATED BY THE NOISE OF THE CHILDREN IS🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. SYDNEY KNOWS WHAT MEDICINE HE NEEDS AND OFFERS HIM A TOP UP ON HIS BODDINGTONS!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

gstqaobc GUYS IT JUST HIT MY THICK BRAIN, ANA ADVERSITY IS THE TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THE GATHERING OF UNHAPPY PEOPLE IS TODAY. WHAT A MESS THAT WAS AND THE BLUNDEROUS FALLOUT SINCE THAT TIME.💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜 GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you😊❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

—————

22. May 20

MM ANON ……… 5 years old ‘ COVID security ……… transmission admission??……… 1st. June. …………… A pollution solution ………… free at last……… kiss 💋 me 😱😱😱………… another Father???…………… Spanish,French and judo 😂😂😂…………… lies,damm lies, and MM……… an expensive squat………… A Greece-y gamble. ………… “ is one sitting comfortably’ good, Once apon a time “

*Entertainment purposes

MAY 21/2020. RIDDLE #23

5 years old ‘ COVID security ………

UK SCHOOLS SET TO RESUME JUNE 1ST. THERE WAS A RIDDLE CLUE THE OTHER DAY I INTERPRETED , IT SAID SOMETHING LIKE THEY WONT’T RETURN SOON. I TOOK THAT TO MEAN THE CHILDREN, ESPECIALLY AS BEING IN THE DIRECT LINE OF SUCCESSION WOULD NOT RETURN SOON. THERE IS A RISK WHEN THIS RESUMES. I THINK THE RIGHT DECISION WILL BE TAKEN. ACCORDING TO HELLO CANADA, CHARLOTTE WOULD BE THE FIRST TO LEAVE ISOLATION AS YEAR 1 AND YEAR 6 STUDENTS RETURN JUNE 1ST. I AM CERTAIN ALL SECURITY WILL HAVE BEEN AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE TESTED AND ISOLATED AS WELL. THERE IS A SERIOUS RISK HERE, AS WE ALL KNOW.

transmission admission??………

PRINCE CHARLES HAD COVID-19! PM BOJO HAD IT, NOW WE KNOW JACK’S FATHER WAS DEATHLY ILL WITH IT. THEY ALL ARE RECOVERING OR RECOVERED . I THINK PM BOJO NEEDS MORE TIME TO RECOVER, HE LOOKS SO PALE AND UNWELL IN THE PAPERS. AFTER HIS MORNING RUN. HAS THERE BEEN A BLIP IN SECURITY OR EXPOSURE HERETOFORE NOT TOLD? HAS THERE BEEN A LAPSE RESULTING IN THESE INFECTIONS OR THE GENERAL POPULATION. THERE IS GREAT TENSION FROM MAN Y TOWARDS CHINA, MANY PEOPLE BELIEVE THE TRUE NATURE AND SEVERITY OF THIS CORONAVIRUS WAS NOT SHARED TRUTHFULLY AND QUESTIONS ABOUT THE W.H.O. I WONDER, AS WITH MANY THINGS, WE WILL EVER BE GIVEN THE COMPLETE TRUTH. THERE HAS BEEN AN INCREASE IN ANTIASIAN INCIDENTS OF VERBAL AND PHYSICAL INCIDENTS IN 🇨🇦. PHARMACEUTICALS HAVE BILLIONS TO EARN FROM POTENTIAL TREATMENTS OR VACCINES.

1st. June. ……………

THIS IS OR HAS BEEN THE DATE SET FOR PRIMARY GRADE 1 AND 6 STUDENTS TO RETURN TO CLASSES. I WISH THEY WOULD JUST LET THE WEE ONES BE DONE. THE GRADUATING STUDENTS ARE THE ONES MY HEART HURTS FOR.

MIGHT THIS BE THE DAY HARRY OFFICIALLY RETURNS A WELL?🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

A pollution solution …………

WITH THE WORLD LOCKDOWN, MANY EMISSIONS THAT POLLUTE THE WORLD HAVE BEEN DRASTICALLY DIMINISHED. I REMEMBER A FEW WEEKS AGO ON THE BLOG, SOMEONE POSTED THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PHOTOS TAKEN OF THE HIMALAYAS. THE FOLKS IN THAT PART OF THE WORLD HAD NOT SEEN THEM VISIBLE FOR 30 YEARS OR SO. WHEN WE RESUME LIFE THERE IS NO GOING BACK. CREATIVITY IS ALREADY ABOUNDING IN ENDLESS WAYS. IT TRULY WILL BE A BRAVE NEW WORLD BUT IN A GOOD SENSE. MANY CAN WORK FROM HOME, LESS MASS TRANSPORTATION BUT THAT WILL DEFINITELY HAVE A TRICKLE DOWN ECONOMIC EFFECT FOR SURE. I HOPE THOSE BRILLIANT MINDS CAN USE THIS TO LESSEN POLLUTION PERMANENTLY AND DEAL WITH THE POLLUTION THAT IS DESTROYING OUR BEAUTIFUL PLANET GOD GAVE US TO STEWARD.

free at last………

THIS IS A LINE FROM DR KING, SPEAKING OF THE PLIGHT OF CIVIL RIGHTS AND REFERENCE TO SLAVERY IN AMERICA MANY YEARS AGO. HARRY HAS BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP/PR SLAVERY OF A SORT, I WONDER AND PRAY AND FEEL VERY STRONGLY WITH THE SECOND ANNIVERSARY NOT MENTIONED BY ANY OF THE BRF, ANNULMENT OR DIVORCE ANNOUNCEMENT IS IMMINENT. I KNOW I HAVE SAID THAT A ZILLION TIMES BUT IT SEEMS THERE ARE MORE INDICATING SIGNS THAN PREVIOUSLY.

kiss 💋 me 😱😱😱…………

REMINDS ME OF KISS ME KATE, THE MUSICAL, JUST THE FIRST WORDS. KISSES TODAY CAN BE FATAL. WHO WANTS A KISS AND WHO GIVES A HORRID KISS. I REMEMBER 18MONTHS AGO, AT THE POLO, MADAM AWARDED THE TROPHY AND KISSED HARRY. HE GRABBED THE CHAMPAGNE AND TOOK A BIG SIP, SWISHED HIS MOUTH AND SPAT IT OUT AS TO GST RID IF HER MOUTHS TASTE. GROSS WHERE THAT MOUTH HAS BEEN, I CANNOT BEAR TO THINK. IS MADAM GOING TO TRY AND GET HIM TO KISS HER SOMEHOW?? OR WORSE YET THREE KISSES? IS SHE GOING TO TRY AND GET OUR CAMBRIDGE KIDDIES TO KISS HER?

another Father???……………

OH THE PR, 🇨🇦DAVID FOSTER IS ON HIS 547TH YOUNG WIFE AND PR IS HE IS LIKE A NEW FATHER TO FARRY= FAKE HARRY. PR HURTS SO BADLY AND NADAM IS GETTING HER DIGS IN AT EVERYONE. SHE IS SO EVIL.

Spanish,French and judo 😂😂😂……………

I LAUGHED AT THE PHOTOSHOPPED PICS ON THE BLOG OF A VERY FIT WOMAN DOING MARTIAL ARTS WITH MADAMS FACE GLUED ONTO THE BODY. HARRY HAD A GO AT MADAM AT CANADA HOUSE ENCOURAGING HER TO SPEAK FRENCH🤣🤣😂😂. OF COURSE SHE COULD NOT, SHE HAS TOLD SO MANY LIES, THESE THREE ARE JUST THREE SMALL DROPS IN AN OCEAN.

lies,damm lies, and MM………

I HAVE TAKEN TO CHECKING THE URBAN DICTIONARY, NORMAL SPELLING IS DAMN FOR THE CURSE OR DAM FOR THE THING THAT HOLDS BACK WATER. ACCORDING TO URBAN AND THIS IS DISGUSTING DAMM IS DRUNKS AGAINST MADD MOTHERS, PLAY ON MADD…MOTHERS AGAINST DRUNK DRIVING. A DAMM IS ALSO A COIN IN OLD INDIA.

SO IS MADAM LYING ABOUT FOREIGN MONEY OR IS THERE A HISTORY OF IMPAIRED DRIVING. ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING, AS OUR SKIPPY SAYS, IS POSSIBLE. THE ONLY THING WE KNOW FOR SURE IS NOTHING IS AS OT SEEMS, TOLD US OR PURPORTS TO BE.

an expensive squat…………

SQUAT IS A TOUGH EXERCISE, VERY CORE STRENGTHENING FOR SURE. IT IS ALSO A POSITION MANY WOMEN USE DURING LABOUR AND CHILDBIRTH. IT ALSO MEANS TO APPROPRIATE SOMEONE PROPERTY. THERE ARE, IN SOME PLACES, LAWS THAT PROTECT SQUATTERS RIGHTS AND THE RIGHTFUL OWNER CAN HAVE A WHALE OF A TIME TRYING TO GET THE COURTS TO EVICT THEM. IS MADAM SQUATTING IN ANY WAY? THIS IS TYPICAL HER, USING AND ABUSING ANYONE AND ANYTHING. USING PHOTOSHOPS OF TP’S MANSION AND PR LIES THAT HER AND A BALD HEADED “H” ARE THERE. I THINK THIS COST MIGHT NOT JUST BE IN MONEY BUT IN FREEDOM. AS WELL ON E THINGS FINALLY CATCH UP WITH HER. SCALES ⚖️.

A Greece-y gamble. …………

WE KNOW MADAM HAS YACHTED ALL OVER THAT PART OF THE WORLD. IS SHE USING SOME INFORMATION GAINED DURING THAT TIME TO GET SOMETHING FROM A CLIENT THERE? I KNOW LINDSAY LOHAN IS DOING EXTREMELY WELL. FOR HERSELF THERE WITH HER RELATIONSHIP WITH AN OLDER MAN. LAST I HEARD SHE HAD TWO NIGHTCLUBS OR WAS IT THREE…

“ is one sitting comfortably’ good, Once apon a time “

MM ANON AGAIN CHOOSES TO END WITH MY FAVOURITE PART, HMTQ QUIET TIME, SHE HAS REGULAR FACETIME CONTACT WITH THE CAMBRIDGES AND WE HEARD TIK TOK TOO🤣🤣😂😂😂. SHE IS READING A STORY OR A BEDTIME STORY TO THE CAMBRIDGE CHILDREN. HOW SWEET. OH WILL BE GOOD WHEN SHE CAN HUG THEM AGAIN AND ALL OF US.

Thank you😊❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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23. May 22

MM ANON …… “what , seen at Lympstone “………… a Diplomatic retreat ……… A-Nul-ment………… NY bio-diver-city……… facegrime ………… Charles, a man for all see-sons……… thermal Heathrow ………… 1st Solo address ………… high-end-ing ………… “ clever children, such a lovely dance”……… “ no darlings gan-pops with Sydney “………… “ yes’ we’ll all bake a cake “………… “ pretty Jim-jams Charlotte “.

Thank you!😊❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

MAY 21/2020. RIDDLE#24

“what , seen at Lympstone “…………

THE ROYAL MARINES COMMANDO TRAINING CENTRE IS IN LYMPSTONE. IS THIS A SIGHTING OF OUR HARRY, THE REAL ONE. HAS HE BEEN BACK SERVING THERE?? IF TRUE, I THINK THIS WOULD BE FANTASTIC!

a Diplomatic retreat ………

AFTER FIRMLY STATING I BELIEVE IT WAS A £400 CHARGE FOR FOREIGN WORKERS TO ACCESS THE NHS THE OM HAS WALKED THAT BACK. THERE WAS A HUGE PUBLIC RESPONSE TO A SOCIAL MEDIA POST BY A BADTA AWARD WINNING FILMMAKER WHO NOW WORKS AS A HOSPITAL CLEANER SHARING HIS PLIGHT. SINCE THAT RESPONSE OM BJ HAS WALKED BACK THAT POLICY.

A-Nul-ment…………

THIS IS WHAT I KEEP HOPING FOR AS IT MEANS AUTOMATIC LOSS OF HER STATUS AND TITLE. SOUNDS LIKE, WITH THE WORD NUL,MEANING VOID, THE ACTUAL MARRIAGE IS VOIDED FOR A VARIETY OF ALLEGED REASONS. THIS IS FANTASTIC AND AS WE HAVE ALL DISCUSSED HERE.

NY bio-diver-city………

NYC HAS A HUGE HUGE PROBLEM WITH COVID. YET NEAR STATES HAVE MUCH LESS . NY STATE IS AS VARIED AS THEY COME. GET OUTSIDE THE COTY, RANCHES, GREENSPACE, HORSES, ITS BEAUTIFUL. WITHIN HUMANS WE EACH POSSESS UNIQUE DNA, BUT YET DIFFERENT RACES AND MUXED RACES CARRY DIFFERENT GENETIC RISKS OR SENSITIVITIES. I READ A VERY INTERESTING ARTICLE ON HOW THE RICHER BOROUGHS IF NYC HAVE FAR FEWER CASES OF COVID THAN THE POORER ONES. THERE ARE ISSUES WITH ACCESS TO CARE AND AFFORDABILITY OR SO THE MEDIA REPORTS. (NOT BEING POLITICAL JUST EXPRESSING MY OWN THOUGHTS)

facegrime …………

IMMEDIATELY I HAD A VISUAL OF PRINCE LOUIS MAKING CAKE POPS WITH HIS FACE FULL OF STICKY YUMMY CAKE BITS. THIS IS FACEGRIME….FACETIME IS APPLE.

THE WORD GRIME , MAKES ME THINK KF MADAMS GREASY FACE AND THICK LAYERS OF BRONZER, MAKEUP ETC HAS SHE BEEN USING OLD SCHOOL LIKE ME, FACETIME, TO PLEAD FOR MONEY? OR TRYING DESPERATELY TO REACH H? YOU THINK SHE WOULD HAVE GIVEN THAT UP BUT SHE WILL NEVER.

Charles, a man for all see-sons………

A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS IS FANTASTIC PLAY, THEN FILM ABOUT SIR THOMAS MORE, WHO REFUSED TO ANNUL HENRY VII MARRIAGE TO CATHERINE OF ARAGON. THIS ALL LED TO THE KING BEING NAMED THE SUPREME HEAD OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND,AND THANK GOODNESS SHE KEPT HER HEAD.

SO CHARLES IS VERY MUCH A MAN OF PRINCIPLES. I SHALL LEAVE IT TO YOU TO COMPARE HIM TO THOMAS MORE.

HAS HE BEEN SEEING HIS SONS VIA SKYPE, ZOOM, FACETIME? I FULLY BELIEVE SO. NOW MORE THAN EVER, WITH MADAME’S ESPECIALLY HURTFUL PR REGARDING DAVID FOSTER BEING LIKE A FATHER TO HARRY, DIRTY MEAN VICIOUS PR, THEY NEED SUPPORT FROM EACH OTHER.

thermal Heathrow …………

GONE ARE THE DAYS OF MERCURY THERMOMETERS, ORAL AXILLAE OR RECTAL TEMP CHECKS. IMAGINE THAT AT HEATHROW😮😮🤣🤣😂😂😂THERMAL TEMPERATURE SCREENINGS ARE BEING TRIALED AT HEATHROW. IT IS AMAZING, HOW MUCH OF OUR PRIVACY AND OUR DAY TO DAY GOING ABOUT WE HAVE JUST SIMPLY COMPLIED WITH. SOME SAY CONSPIRACY OTHERS SAY COOPERATION IS ESSENTIAL TO GETTING THROUGH THIS. WHAT DO YOU THINK/BELIEVE? I AM CURIOUS.

1st Solo address …………

IS HARRY GETTING READY TO ANNOUNCE THE ANNULMENT OR DIVORCE PUBLICLY IN PERSON. TILL NOW IT HAS ONLY BEEN VIDEOS AND FAKE HARRY PR. WOW THIS WOULD BE AMAZING AND HOW WOULD HE RELISH BEING THE ONE IN CONTROL OF PUBLICITY AFTER YEARS OF BEING CALLED EVERY INSULTING WORD IN THE BOOK.

high-end-ing …………

MADAM HAS A HISTORY OF MANY VARIOUS HOBBIES. CURRENTLY LIVING THE “HIGH” LIFE AT TP’S MANSION IN L. A…..RIGHT AND I CAN RUN A MILE!!! THE ENDING OR HER LAST DAYS AS A WIFE PUBLICLY, WE ALL KNOW IT WAS OVER AT CANADA HOUSE, SHE HAS MILKED THE LIES. WE KNOW SHE IS ON SOME COUCH SOMEWHERE IN THE U.K. SHE HAS LEGAL TROUBLE IN AMERICA, NO WAY SHE IS THERE. SHE CERTAINLY HAS MANY WILLING TO LIE FOR HER,BUT WHY? WHAT IS TO GAIN EXCEPT THEIR NAME IN THE MEDIA ASSOCIATED WITH MADAM. UNLESS THE BACKERS PAID OFF. EITHER WAY, NO MATTER, THE ENDING IS NEAR AND CHANCES ARE HOBBIES ARE USED TO COPE.

“ clever children, , such a lovely dance”……… “ no darlings gan-pops with Sydney “………… “ yes’ we’ll all bake a cake “………… “ pretty Jim-jams Charlotte “.

AS USUAL MY FAVOURITE MM ANON TIME. HMTQ IS COMMENTING ON SEEING THE CAMBRIDGE CHILDREN ON TIK TOK MOVING AND GROOVING AS WE USED TO SAY. HUGELY POPULAR CARE CAKE POPS ON A STICK, ITS BASICALLY AFTER YOU BAKE A CAKE , YOU SQUEEZE BITS OF IT INTO LITTLE BALLS OR POPS AND PUT ON A STICK. KIDS LIVE THE PARTICIPATING BECAUSE ITS MESSY AND TASTES YUMMY.

THE CHILDREN WANT GAN GAN TO HELP BUT CATHERINE SAYS NO, HMTQ DOES THIS WITH SYDNEY🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂. SO THE WHOLE GANG IS IN ON THE FUN, EVEN LITTLE LOUIS, PERFECT AGE. SOUNDS LIKE AFTER ICING OR FROSTING, THEY ARE DECORATING THEM. IN CANADA WE CALL THEM COLOURED SPRINKLES, IN PARTS OF AMERICA THEY ARE CALLED JIMMIES, IN THE U.K. JIM JAMS!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿. Thank you!😊💜💜💜💜

*Entertainment purposes

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24. May 22

MM ANON …… 88 two fat ladies ……… two blacked out Discovery’s in St Leonard’s ……… Priti Draconian …… pray,or else!! ………… gel my temperature ……… wash your hands then wrinkle cream ……… a memorial event ………… Hong-Gone…………” well, wake him up Sydney!!………… “bloody hell Sydney “ ………… “ sorry ma’am , Charlotte wants to play bingo”……… “ wonderful , clickerty duck”

Thank you 😊❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

MAY 22/2020. RIDDLE #25

88 two fat ladies ………

WILLIAM AND CATHERINE DID AN AWESOME JOB OF VIRTUAL BINGO WITH SENIORS. THEY MUST HAVE BEEN TUTORED BECAUSE THERE IS SUCH A THING AS, BINGO ETIQUETTE. YOU DON’T CALL NUMBERS TOO FAST, AND NUMBERS GET A FUNNY NAME. SO 88 BINGO BALL TWO FAT LADIES🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂I LOVE IT. TAKES ME RIGHT BACK TO CHILDHOOD GOING FROM LEGION TO LEGION WITH MY PARENTS AND PLAYING BINGO.

two blacked out Discovery’s in St Leonard’s

MADAM IS BEING TRANSPORTED. I AM TAKING IT THAT HER HOSPITALIZATION OR CONFINEMENT HAS CHANGED. WHOO HOO, THIS BRINGS ME AGAIN HOPE OF AN ANNULMENT ANNOUNCEMENT VERY SOON!! AGAIN I SAY, THE STAR CHAMBER CERTAINLY MUST HAVE BEEN EXTREMELY BUSY AND HAS THIS CASE EXACTLY SOLID NOW IN TERMS OF COERCION OF MARRIAGE, ALLEGEDLY, TREASON ETC ALL FICTIONAL AND FOR ENTERTAINMENT OF COURSE 😉.ACTUALLY THIS MIGHT BE THE FIRST TIME SHE HAS BEEN NEAR SUSSEX AT A TIME WHEN TITLE DUCHESS OF SUSSEX SHALL SOON NO LONGER EXIST. ALLEGEDLY OF COURSE. ALSO FITTING IT IS A SEASIDE TOWN, AS WE KNOW MADAM LOVES BOATS AND ALL THAT GOOD CLEAN FUN 😉.

……… Priti Draconian ……

AS I WROTE ELSEWHERE, PRITI PATEL STATED THE GUIDELINES, I WILL NOT REPEAT, SCROLL DOWN PLEASE. SOME PEOPLE FEEL SOME OF THE GOVERNMENTS MEASURES HAVE BEEN AND ARE ARE FAR TOO AUSTERE AND THERE MAY BE A LOCKDOWN BACKLASH. DRACONIAN IS A TERM FROM DRACOS CODE…STIFF SEVERE RULES OR LAWS, UNNECESSARILY SO RIGID, UNBENDING. STIFF RULES FOR LEAVING AND ENTERING THE U.K. WERE ANNOUNCED THIS EVENING, WITH SERIOUS FINES.

pray,or else!! …………

THIS IS MY LIFE MOTTO. PRAYER IS ESSENTIAL. THERE WAS AN ARTICLE IN THE DM TODAY ABOUT HMTQ FAITH AND HOW SHE MISSES THE FELLOWSHIP OF ATTENDING CHIRCH ON SUNDAY MORNINGS. IF YOU ARE INCLINED,I ENCOURAGE YOU TO READ IT. I KNOW WHERE HER STRENGTH AND FORTITUDE COMES FROM.🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

gel my temperature ………

OK, THE FIRST THING I THINK OF IS SOMEONE TRYING TO FOOL THE THERMAL BODY SCANNER OR FOREHEAD TEMPERATURE SCANNER BY USING COOLING GEL. IN 🇨🇦,IT IS CALLED ICY HOT, GREAT FOR JOINT PAIN OR MUSCLE ACHE. ITS LIKE RUBBING ALCOHOL BUT IN GEL FORM. AS US OLD NURSES KNOW, BACK IN THE DAY, WHEN A PATIENT HAD A HIGH FEVER WE WOULD WIPE THEM DOWN WITH RUBBING ALCOHOL. ARE SOME PEOPLE USING THIS METHOD TO TRY AND FOOL THE SCANNERS? DISGUSTING IF TRUE. ITS COLD AT ROOM TEMPERATURE BUT KEEP IN THE FRIDGE ITS EXTREMELY COLD.

wash your hands then wrinkle cream ………

MM ANON, EVERYTIME YOU WRITE ABOUT WRINKLE CREAM, I SELF PROJECT BECAUSE IT HAS BEEN A RUNNING THING HERE FOR SOOOOOO LONG, MY LOVE OF ALL CREAMS AND SERUMS..CURRENTLY USING PRAI AND KORRES COMBINATION. FABULOUS. AS RESTRICTIONS ARE BEING EASED, HANDWASHING IS A MUST. IT IS ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS YOU LEARN IN NURSING SCHOOL , THAT AND MAKING A PROPER BED. ALL NURSES KNOW WHAT A BIG DEAL THEY MAKE ABOUT THAT.🤣🤣😂😂😂😂. SO WITH EASING OF SOME RESTRICTIONS, HAND WASHING, MASKS HERE ANYWAYS. DO NOT TOUCH YOUR FACE WITH OR WITHOUT A MASK. SO WHAT, NOW ITS OK TO USE WRINKLE CREAM?? I HAVE BEEN USING IT ALL THROUGH THIS LOCKDOWN! SERIOUSLY IT IS JUST REMEMBER TO KEEP WASHING YOUR HANDS OFTEN, DO NOT TOUCH YOUR FACE, USE HAND SANITIZER AS RESTRICTIONS ARE EASED UP. BE SAFE EVERYONE 💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

a memorial event …………

THIS WEEKEND IN AMERICA IS MEMORIAL DAY, THEY ALSO HAVE VETERANS DAY. 🇺🇸 ARE VERY PROUD OF THEIR VETERANS AND THOSE WHO CONTINUE TO SERVE, AND MY HOW RIGHTLY SO. THEIR PRESIDENT SPEAKS SO OFTEN OF HOW HIGHLY HE VALUES THE MILITARY AND IT IS MY UNDERSTANDING THAT HE HAS BUDGETED AND BUILT IT STRONGER THAN EVER. IF INAM WRONG PLEASE CORRECT ME, B😊UT NICELY PLEASE? MY HOW I ADMIRE THEIR NATIONAL SPIRIT AND PRIDE. THIS MEANS IT IS A LONG WEEKEND. WITH SOME RESTRICTIONS BEING LIFTED IN MANY PLACES, MY PRAYER IS FOR HAPPY PEOPLE TIME, OUTDOORS, BBQ, ENJOYING THE FRESH AIR , ALL WHILST REMEMBERING ALL GAVE SOME…SOME GAVE ALL. 🇺🇸

Hong-Gone…………”

HONG KONG, CITY IN CHINA, HANDED OVER FROM THE BRITISH JULY 1/1997. WOW IT SEEMS LIKE ONLY YESTERDAY. PRITI PATEL WAS ADDRESSING THE NATION THIS EVENING, I WATCHED HER ON BBC WORLD. SOUNDING LIKE HOPES PEOPLE HAD FOR HOLIDAY MAY BE DASHED. FOREIGNERS OR THOSE RETURNING FROM SAID HOLIDAY WILL BE REQUIRED TO QUARANTINE FOR 14 DAYS. BEFORE BEING ALLOWED ENTRY, THEY HAVE TO PRODUCE A PLAN, ADDRESS AND PHONE NUMBER. THERE WILL BE STRICT FOLLOWING. THE FIRST OFFENCE OF NON-COMPLIANCE IS A FINE OF £1000. AFTER THAT FURTHER OFFENCES THE FINE WILL BE “UNLIMITED”.

“well, wake him up Sydney!!………… “bloody hell Sydney “ ………… “ sorry ma’am , Charlotte wants to play bingo”……… “ wonderful , clickerty duck”

YESTERDAY WILLIAM AND CATHERINE HAD A FABULOUS TIME PLAYING BINGO VIRTUALLY WITH SENIORS. AS ALL PROFESSIONAL BINGO PLAYERS KNOW, THERE ARE A

WAYS CUTE SAYINGS AFTER EACH NUMBER. I COMMENTED THIS YESTERDAY, AT LENGTH. MY PARENTS PLAYED EVERY NIGHT OF THE WEEK, I KID YOU NOT.

SO WE HAVE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE INSISTING SYDNEY DISRUPT HIMSELF’S NAP TO PLAY BINGO WITH HER VIRTUALLY. I TAKE IT HE IS NOT AMUSED🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂. POOR EVER PATIENT SYDNEY. APOLOGIES TO HMTQ FOR THE INTERRUPTION. CLICKETY DUCK WHAT BINGO NUMBER IS THAT? 75 TOP OF THE HOUSE , 1 BOTTOM OF THE HOUSE , HERE 66 IS CLICKETY. CLICK SO I AM GOING FOR 66!! I COULD GO ON AND ON ABOUT BINGO, TYPES OF GSNES ETC BUT I WILL STOP NOW!🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Thank you 😊❤️

*Entertainment purposes

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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25. May 23

MM ANON …… 44 million? ………… anons’ how much on clothes?………… “still looked trash”………… evidences of past yachting 😱😱😱😱😱………… LA EX?? ………… “ in Exeter”…………… “ Josh Stones!!“………… a second peak? ……………not in Spain 🥳🥳🥳………… meanwhile in WC. ……… “ gan gan I want a tiara “ ………… “ and one day you shall “ ……… “ is nanny back Catherine?”……… “where’s my bloody slippers “ ……” your wearing them sir”

Thank you😊❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

MAY 23/2020. RIDDLE #26

44 million? …………

THE HEADLINE WAS £44 000 000 WAS WHAT THE PEOPLES COST WAS FOR THE SUSSEX WEDDING. OUTRAGEOUS ESPECIALLY FOR THE SHABBY SHOW IT WAS. HOW MUCH PUBLIC MONEY WAS RIFLED AWAY IN AN OFFSHORE BANK ACCOUNT BY SOMEONE AND HER CRONIES. OH INQUIRY BECKONS.

anons’ how much on clothes?………… ““still looked trash”…………

THE UNBELIEVABLE OVERUSAGE OF GIVENCHY AND BAIT AND SWITCH BILLING TWICE SCAM GENERATES A LOT OF REVENUE. CRIMINAL REVENUE. AGAIN WE HAVE A WEBSITE WHO HAS BEEN FLOGGING EVERY SINGLE ITEM. ALOT OF MONEY. WHERE IS IT? INQUIRY BECKONS. ALTHOUGH FOR THIS AND PREVIOUS CLUE INQUIRY HAS LONG BEEN DONE AND KEPT TRACK OF, MANY ARE GOING TO FALL.

evidences of past yachting 😱😱😱😱😱

WILL WE FINALLY SEE THAT DOSSIER OR PARTS THAT THE DM HAS AND OTHER OUTLETS HAVE BEEN SITTING ON? OR HAVE EVEN MORE COME TO LIGHT? TO QUOTE GAME OF THRONES..”WHAT IS DEAD NEVER STAYS BURIED”. NO MATTER FILTH ALWAYS EVENTUALLY IS REVEALED AND CLEANED UP. MAYBE NOT IN A TIMELY MANNER BUT EVENTUALLY.

………… LA EX?? …………

LAX AS WE ALL KNOW IS THE AIRPORT IN L.A. CALIFORNIA. IS ONE OF MADAMS EXES COMING TO GIVE INFORMATION TO THE STAR CHAMBER OR THE SECURITY SERVICES? THEY HAVE BOTH SAT QUIETLY BY AT LEAST PUBLICLY ANYWAYS. INTERESTING IF THIS WERE TRUE.

OF COURSE MADAM IS NOT IN L.A. SHE HAS NEVER LEFT THE U.K. DESPITE HER BAD PR FLURRY TO THE CONTRARY. I DEFINITELY BELIEVE THEIR MARRIAGE ENDED, OOOOOH HUGE THUNDER HERE NOW😮😮😮😮, SORRY GOT A STARTLE BY THAT, AT CANADA HOUSE BY A OR D , I HAVE SAID IT SO OFTEN, I HOPE FOR A AS IN ANNULMENT.

“ in Exeter”……………

A NURSE I USED TO WORK WITH HER DAUGHTER MARRIED A CHAP FROM EXETER, SHE BROUGHT ME A LOVELY PAIR OF CELTIC CROSS EARRINGS FROM THERE. WHAT NOW WE HAVE A SIGHTING IN EXETER? THIS HAD TO BE MADAM, AFTER ALL THE BLACKENED OUT DISCOVERYS WERE YAKING HER FOR A DRIVE THE OTHER DAY. AREN’T RIDDLES FOR ENTERTAINMENT FUN 😉? WHAT IS NEAR THERE?

“ Josh Stones!!“…………

JOSS STONE, FABULOUS SINGER, HAS BEEN IN THE BOYS ORBIT FOR AGES. I BELIEVE SHE WAS AT EUGENIE’S WEDDING, I CANNOT RECALL IF SHE WAS AT WILLIAM OR HARRY’S, SUCH AS HIS WAS. HERE WE HAVE JOSH, MALE NAME OR JUST JOSHING HERE MEAN JUST KIDDING AROUND . STONES PLURAL. TWO EXCLAMATION MARKS. STONES IS ALSO A MEASUREMENT OF WEIGHT. WE KNOW ADELE HAS LOST MEGA WEIGHT BUT JOSS IS TINY. BUT JOSH HMMMMM NOT SURE KIDS.

a second peak? ……………

COVID-19 AGAIN, HERE WE HAVE BEEN TOLD THEY FEAR A SECOND WAVE OR PEAK IN THE AUTUMN WHEN FLU SEASON RAMPS UP. WE NEED TO SERIOUSLY KEEP HANDWASHING, PHYSICAL DISTANCING ETC. I FEAR THIS GREATLY. AS THINGS UNLOCKDOWN, WHICH IS BADLY NEEDED FOR MENTAL HEALTH AND THE ECONOMY, THINGS WILL BE CLOSELY MONITORED.

not in Spain 🥳🥳🥳…………

HERE WE HAVE SPAIN AND THREE CHEERS, I TAKE THIS AS AS NANNY BORROLLO HAS RETURNED, AND OUT OF QUARANTINE BEEN TESTED AND IS HEALTHY . THREE CHEERING CAMBRDIGE CHILDREN.

meanwhile in WC. ……… “ gan gan I want a tiara “ ………… “ and one day you shall “ ……… “ is nanny back Catherine?”……… “where’s my bloody slippers “ ……” your wearing them sir”

REMINDS ME OF THE SAYING, MEANWHILE BACK AT THE RANCH😂😂😂🤣. HERE WE HAVE WC WHICH IS OF COURSE WINDSOR CASTLE. MY FAVOURITE PART OF THE RIDDLE. HERE WE HAVE THE DAILY VIRTUAL VISITS BETWEEN HMTQ AND PP WITH THE CAMBRDIGES. CHARLOTTE IS JONESING FOR A TIARA, GAN GAN ASSURES HER SHE SHALL ONE DAY WEAR ONE. HOW SPLENDID WILL THAT DAY BE EH? YESTERDAY I READ THAT CHARLOTTE WILL BE THE NEXT PRINCESS ROYAL, ONCE THE TIME COMES. OF COURSE WE KNOW HRH PRINCESS ANNE IS CURRENTLY THE PRINCESS ROYAL TITLE HOLDER.

SOUNDS LIKE NANNY HAS BEEN AWAY, OR WHY WOULD SHE NOT BE THERE. HAVE THEY BEEN IN LOCKDOWN WITHOUT NANNY? WAS SHE VISITING HOME ON SPAIN AND QUARANTINED FOR 14 DAYS? NANNY IS MARIAM BORROLLO.

MY MY PP HIMSELF IS MUTTERING WONDERING WHERE IS SLIPPERS HAVE GONE TO AND EVER PATIENT SYNDEY TELLS HIM HE HAS THEM ON. I RECALL DRIVING WITH A FRIEND AND SHE WAS MADLY LOOKING FOR SOMETHING. I FINALLY SAID WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR, SHE SAID MY SUNGLASSES, I SAID YOU HAVE THEM ON YOUR HEAD😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣. SHE HAD MOVED THEM UP TO LOOK FOR GUM OR SOMETHING GOT DISTRACTED AND WELL….THE REST IS HISTORY.😊😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

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missing-my-griffin · 5 years ago

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My useless & ranty thoughts on 607

This episode might be... my actual favorite episode ever???? Jesus I cried my eyes out for half of it. I just wanted to hug Clarke. She’s the most wonderful and selfless person ever, and guess what SEASON 1 CLARKE IS BACK. Imma write out my thoughts, just bc I feel like I can’t help it.

1) Clarke’s fight - The golden princess is finally back, and I am alive. it was all so genius?? She gave up, just like I thought she would. But it was the middle of the episode, and with everything that was teased, I didn’t think we were gonna leave J!Clarke’s minds the entire episode. So I was like.. huh?? How the fuck are we gonna save her? Her people won’t. For a fraction of a second I thought she’d think of Madi and Bellamy and change her mind and simply decide that she wants to live, but that would be selfish and very unlike Clarke. And then Monty strodes in, the light of my life, and they’re friends and they’re adorable and so smart, omg. And Clarke fucking realizes doing the right thing matters, and she wants to prioritize it over dying for her people?? Who might just be trapped within another tyranny anyways. Fucking.... amen. God. What the hell. Actual, literal S1 Clarke being back. The one who always goes above and beyond, who sacrifices the greater good for the individual if it’s the right thing to do. Who fought teeth and bone to save Jasper, a lost cause. Josephine calling her out on being a scared kid hiding behind the smokescreen image of a badass??? Clarke finding herself again with Monty and actually becoming said badass?? I am - ugh. god.

2) Monty and Clarke. They were absolutely my favorite thing this episode. Monty’s a ray of sunshine and embodies everything Clarke believes in; he was there in MW and backed her, he was there S5 and believed in her. He never ever blamed her for making the tough choice, he only ever blamed her for making the wrong one. Example the list. The list was wrong. Free will, sacrifice or chance, would have been right. A ranking of genes.. that’s wrong. And why did he rip into her for that? Bc he knew she should know better. Bc he believed in her. bc she messed up and used “my people” as an excuse. And then he was back this ep and he didn’t judge her, he helped her find her way and herself and just... name a more iconic duo. Ill wait. Okay, of course, Bellarke. But like... Clonty?? Close second this ep. I wish hed survived. They’d be the cutest bffs.

3) Octavia and Clarke - fitting to have Octavia confront Clarke with her S5 actions. She was compared to O by Raven, called “worse”. Clarke believes it I think. But still, Octavia wasn’t malicious in her confrontation? A dry sarcastic lil bitch and Im loving her. Im in awe of their dynamic anyways and I wish they’d interact again irl. She also has no beef with S5 Octavia because she admired S4 Octavia, I think. The conclave and Octavia’s choice were heroic. Octavia was right, Clarke was wrong. Clarke knew what she did with the bunker was wrong. In hindsight, Clarke thinks she made those choices because she’s a bad person but she made them out of weakness, hopelessness and depression. Clarke ultimately feared Octavia’s choice would be her downfall bc there was a big chance theyd just all kill each other. It’s what happened sort of, it killed Octavia, so Clarke doesn’t judge her. But also, it was the right thing to do anyways: trying. This has been a long time coming. it was eating me up that they didnt face those things Clarke did, narratively. For humanity, that was her justification. That’s wrong. For her people. that’s also wrong. For your people. For people. That’s right. And you’ll catch me crying about this for years.

Octavia being a link between Clarke and bellamy, like always, also made me an emotional mess. Octavia calling her out on leaving Bellamy, even though she fucking threw him in the pit?? omg, hilarious. Clarke doesn’t blame Octavia. She blames herself. Can you believe?? Clarke arguing that Bellamy forgave her. Bellamy not being there bc she doesnt actually believe he did. Also, Clarke thinking Bellamy deep down thinks the worst things about her that she thinks about herself?? Im... not ok. We’ve been knew shes a walking self conscious mess with her heart ripped to pieces bc of bellamy. But confirmation is glorious. the poor girl. AND HE LOVES YOU YOU IDIOT. Which brings me to Pt:

4) Bellarke -- ahhhhh omg. The angst. The depth. What the hell. She couldn’t ‘face’ Bellamy. His voice was everywhere, all the time, it was so eerie, but we didnt see him once? Kill me. Would he have helped her if he was there? hated her? tried to kill her? Walked away? Given her a friendshippy hug and been totally un-in-love contrasting irl Bellamy?? Clarke didnt want to know, so we don’t know. and also, projection bellamy alone could have filled the entire ep in her mind. it would have introduced too many themes into one episode, so Im completely ok with not seeing him. if they’d done anything more than slightly mention Bellamy, they would have opened Pandora’s box. This is so good.

5) Bellamy murder face Blake is back again and he WILL save his wife.

6) lastly: “be the good guys.” Felt so hollow all season. They were preaching it over and over, do better, be better, but like... there was no heart. They were all ‘we shan’t break into this building! That’s not being the good guys!” Did they even understand what Monty meant by that? Turns out they didn’t. Now they do though!! Or; Clarke does. What an episode. I absolutely cannot fucking wait for next week.

#the 100 #thoughts #omg #so good #bellarke #clarke griffin #monty green #rant

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kymkdd · 4 years ago

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a few mangas i think you should read (pls)

originally i wanted to write a review about fukakai na boku no subete wo

anyways enough introductions here is the list :

fukakai na boku no subete wo

a really sweet story about a nonbinary amab protagonist getting introduced to an “otokonoko cafe” where they meet 3 other amabs that all work at the cafe for different reasons

it is obviously lgbt oriented but it has some really nice humour and doesnt shy too much from facing its characters with familial issues which i often see overlooked in the genre where most conflicts are more internal

to top it all it has some extremely sweet m/m and nb/m romance as well as a pretty conflicted lesbian character only 21 chapters so far so it is a pretty quick read but it is really worth it in my opinion

shimeji simulation

a really funny and strange 4 koma by tsukumizu

as with his previous work on shoujo shuumatsu ryokou this manga can get pretty existential at times altho so far theres only 16 chapters but the dynamic between the two main protagonists is amazing imo

so far it seems like it is headed to get even better than SSR was and i hope it will

nora to zassou (r-18)

a hard hitting manga about a girl who looks a lot like the deceased daughter of the other main protagonist, a jaded assistant inspector devastated by the loss of said daughter

the plot deals with very serious themes such as child trafficking and prositution as well as domestic abuse however it never uses those themes for shock factor they are integral part of the plot and are key to understanding the psyche of the duo and how it affects them both deeply on a physical and emotional plane

this manga is probably the one i recommend the most out of those 3 but the r-18 isnt for show imo

dead dead demon’s dededededestruction

a really good slice of life/seinen from asano inio (oyasumi punpun, solanin) that talks about the daily life of high school girls living in the middle of tokyo while theres an alien invasion going on (lol) however it isnt all cutesy as one would expect from the cover or the quirky name and you will soon remember that youre actually reading a seinen (if it wasnt obvious because of who the author is) because the story can and will get dark in unexpected ways a few chapters in

probably my favourite on this list and my favourite out of asanos catalogue but i could definitely see why someone would think it isnt as good as stuff like punpun but to me the interactions between the characters, their personalities, their opinions on things are all really amazing to me and the main cast is lovable af so ill still recommend this well over something like punpun, if you want something in the same “genre” (sol+aliens) you should check out dainana joshikai houkou even tho i personally havent read all of it yet it seems to be pretty similar but more slice of lifey and way less seinen

aaaaaand thats a wrap currently im working towards finishing hibike! euphonium and plan to write a review for it so please look forward to that additionally i still have to finish watching tonari no kyuuketsuki-san and eizouken ni wa te wo dasu na! and might write reviews for those two as well finally theres a bajillion mangas i plan to read in the upcoming days/weeks, im still waiting for the last chapter of ao no flag to release in english so that i can review it even if i already read it because i might need to make a spoil section for that review to explain more in depth etc.

all and all thank you very much if you took the time to read all the way down there

heres a nice screenshot for you as a gift

(intense lesbian stare)

#recommendations #fukakai na boku no subete wo #shimeji simulation #nora to zassou #dead dead demon's dededededestruction

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6ftgirlfriend · 5 years ago

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Falling For Stars

Collaborators: @sweetdreamsjetaime 💝/ edited by @lovebird1517 💖

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Lucas Lallemant/Eliott Demaury

Summary: Rising star, Lucas Lallemant, has no clue what’s going on. For all he knows, his costar, Eliott Demaury, doesn’t give a fuck about him. He had made that pretty clear when he got all cozy with his girlfriend, Lucille, right in front of him. So can someone explain to him why the hell everyone thinks they’re dating? or Co-Stars to lovers!AU with all the angst/fluff and French shenanigans to keep me up at night!

Episode 1 - Regret.

AO3 Link

He was falling into oblivion, willingly with no sense of control

Falling from the heavens, they would shine so bright

Falling into the ocean of his eyes,

they would pierce through the soul

Falling into the storms of his embrace, they would unravel the heart

The collision was inevitable, the comet’s end

No shooting star should feel this, to be a burning and dying wish

It was endlessly cold, infinitely dark amongst the others

He was the fallen star, forever trying to stay ablaze…

—The Little Lone Star

SAMEDI 9:12

Lucas jolts awake by a sudden noise. He’s brought back to reality when he hears the roaring echoes of the shower being turned on.

He squints up at a pale ceiling that was not his own. His was made out of glass that allowed him to gaze up at the stars whenever life got too rough. He’s always found comfort in them, but they are not here right now to calm his beating heart. Where the hell is he? The bed sheets curled around his torso are definitely not his. They are soft and comforting yet suffocating at the same time. The tidiness and luxury of the bed are a sharp contrast to how messy and average he remembers his to be. He feels out of place. Seriously? What the hell is happening? The grey curtains hanging loosely against the glass frames barely prevent any sunlight from seeping through. Lucas almost goes blind while trying to blink his heavy eyes open. He feels dizzy, disoriented and worst of all; like total absolute shit. Fuck! How much did he drink last night?

The hangover reduces Lucas to nothing but a living corpse. He tries his hardest to sober up, but every single one of his brain cells is screaming at him to stop overworking them. Not only is the sun trying to blind him, but the birds outside are chirping loudly to God knows what tune. The sounds of bustling cars and productivity outside rang through his ears and intensifies his headache. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs at the absolute mess it is. Suddenly, a cool breeze grazes his exposed skin sending a shiver through his whole body and leaving goosebumps in its wake. He curls up in the bedding once more but sits up in surprise when he notices that he was completely naked and space next to him is empty. He truly loathed his existence at the moment.

Lucas looks around the room with a big frown. The scattered clothes on the floor and the lone ripped condom packet by the trashcan don’t leave much to the imagination. Fuck, he had sex with someone yesterday in his drunken daze, didn’t he?

Lucas groans from the realization. He reaches for his clothes by the bed and tries to get dressed quickly. The sooner he gets the hell out of where ever the fuck he is, the quicker he would feel sane again.

He stops halfway through putting his shirt on when he hears the shower turn off. He turns to see an unfamiliar figure step out of the bathroom. Lucas chokes on air. The guy in front of him is half-naked, and Lucas’s brain short circuits. Droplets of water slowly drip down the man’s body, and Lucas uses his remaining self-control not to combust on the spot.

The nameless man seems unfazed by Lucas’s presence and proceeds to shake his damp chocolate curls into a small towel; his arm muscles flex with every movement. He looks unreal with a lean body that’s as tall as the door frame and broad, muscular shoulders. His skin is pale, and the yellow tint of sunlight makes him look as if he’s glowing.

Lucas snaps out of his daze and mentally scolds himself for thirsting over a stranger. The shame he was feeling a few moments ago comes back to hit him once again at full force.

Lucas doesn’t properly look at the guy’s face, but he knows.

It’s not him.

This man, as hot as he is, is not the one he wishes him to be. The one he dreams he could wake up to every morning. The one he wants is not his to take and keep. Lucas can’t even fantasize about what it would feel like to be with him. Yet, there’s an invisible pull that always leads straight to him.

Him, who, ever since the beginning, would send his heart running for the hills whenever he made eye contact with those steel blue eyes. God those eyes.

Lucas is too hungover to handle all this shit this early in the morning. He feels like an avalanche is submerging him. His whole body is frozen, and his heart is heavy. He fucked up. He really fucked up this time.

It hits him out of nowhere as the events of last night clear up in his head.

Regret.

***

YESTERDAY NIGHT, VENDREDI 21:41

The camera lights are flashing and lighting up the night. Lucas scoffs at all the people dressed in big fancy gowns and expensive suits. He wants to tell them that this is The César Awards and not a fashion show. Lucas lets it go because he won’t allow any negativity tonight.

He’s rejoicing because Je T’aime won Best Film. It’s the first movie Lucas played in that gained so much success. He even got nominated for the award of Best Actor because of it, but sadly he lost it to his costar, Eliott Demaury.

Lucas’s not even mad about it because anyone that has ever worked with Eliott knows that the man has a natural talent in acting.

Lucas remembers how shocked he was when he received the news that he would be staring along Eliott. Around that time, Lucas’s career in acting was starting to pick up after the public loved his performance in La Honte. His portrayal of a struggling teen with Tourette’s syndrome blew the masses away because it was the first time they saw mental illness depicted in a positive light. Two days after the news, he got to read over the script and instantly fell in love.

The film was based off a best-selling novel; about a Canadian teen, Hugo Babineaux, sent to study abroad in Paris, France. While there, he falls for his host family’s eldest son, Julien Favre. Julien is a devout Catholic, but couldn’t resist falling in love with the Hugo. Their forbidden love is passionate and bittersweet, as the film touches on the issues of homophobia and religion—the journey of coming to accept one’s sexuality and owning up to who you want to be.

Lucas practiced day and night to make sure he matched Eliott’s talent and did the role of Hugo justice.

But no amount of practice could have prepared him for the first time he met Eliott. Because fucking hell, the guy was beyond gorgeous in person.

Eliott’s icy gaze left Lucas breathless.

And I’m falling so hard for you.

He almost broke his neck from having to gaze up at him.

Would you be there to catch me, too?

He couldn’t be real. Those luminous caramel locks had to be made from strands of silk, entwisted, like a storm. He looked like an angel among men.

Maybe I should keep this to myself.

It was honestly intimidating to be working first time with such a renowned actor.

Waiting ‘til I know you better.

Lucas could only hope his weak, stupid heart could take it.

I don’t wanna be something you can throw away.

The film was a massive hit; the fans went crazy for the chemistry that Lucas and Eliott shared. They were the perfect duo. Lucas had come to understand everyone’s fondness towards Eliott, especially when he smiled so big that it reached his eyes. Or how his kind and bright demeanor would light up the room. But those little things shouldn’t matter. Why should he care that Eliott made his heart flip every time he enters a room?

It’s nothing but stage fright jitters. Lucas would reassure himself.

Eliott is an enigma. His happy-go-lucky attitude is a starch contrast to the vivid and dynamic characters he plays. His first role was that of a blind prodigal genius painter who had to adapt to life after a tragic accident flipped his whole world upside down. His performance in the movie landed him many awards, and he became one of the youngest actors to win the prestigious award in France.

Despite the unworldly harmony between Lucas and Eliott on the big screen and during interviews, it’s an entirely different story behind the scenes.

Anyone who knew these two could see the tension between them. Eliott loves to tease, calling him a hedgehog because of his wild spiky hair, and Lucas tries very hard not to blush every time he touched it. He also tends to sneak up on him and whisper random things in his ears, and that makes Lucas lose his mind. And Eliott’s answer to his flustered face is to outright laugh at him. Why did he let this guy get to him so much? Every time they would touch even by accident, Lucas would feel breathless.

Eliott must be doing it on purpose; he must enjoy seeing Lucas reduced to a complete mess.

But Lucas is done with these little games.

He plans to confront Eliott tonight and ask him exactly what the hell they are.

Lucas tried his best to avoid doing relationships, only settling for one night stands. He’s too scared of the paparazzi invading his privacy. Besides, Lucas isn’t out to the public yet. But he feels something for Eliott and is willing to risk it all for the chance of being in a relationship with him.

Lucas makes his way backstage to Eliott’s dressing room where the talk will take place. If everything goes well, they would be boyfriends by the end of the night. He abruptly stops when he sees Eliott in front of the room arms hooked around the small waist of a brunette. Lucas has seen her before. Her name’s Lucille Dubois; a supermodel, singer, and songwriter. She’s famous and loved by everyone. Lucas swallows the lump in his throat. They look good together. Perfect.

Of course, they would be dating. Lucas turns away, and his heart clenches at the reality that nothing could ever happen between Eliott and him. All the sneaky touches and stolen looks were for nothing. He can’t believe he let himself think that there was a chance Eliott would like him back.

He needs a drink. Now.

He heads straight out for the bar.

***

After only a few shots, the world around Lucas starts to spin, and he feels the adrenaline pumping through his whole body.

That’s when he sees it: a pair of long legs striding towards him in determination. Muscular and veiny hands pull him wrap around his waist and pull him in a tight hug. There’s barely any space between them, and Lucas shivers when a deep voice whispers in his eyes.

Lucas wishes the nameless hands buried in his hair belong to Eliott. But the reality hits when the man says in a low and raspy voice.

“I’m Étienne.”

Lucas looks away from his lips to his darkening eyes. Lucas is sure he won’t remember the name for very long, but he nods and presses his lips against his in a heated kiss.

He doesn’t know how they got to the apartment. Which wall he’s currently pressed against, but Lucas doesn’t complain. Their clothes are gone the moment they get to the bedroom.

Behind his closed lids, Lucas sees red flashes of visions. Is it another daydream? A memory? All he sees are familiar dark eyes piercing through him. Not now, please. Lucas runs his hand through Étienne’s hair in hopes of distracting himself from thinking of Eliott.

Why is he in my mind right now?

Étienne’s warm lips trace Lucas’s collarbone, and Lucas wonders what Eliott’s lips will feel like on his skin. He hates the fact that he’s so jealous of Lucille. All Lucas wanted to do when he saw Lucille wrapped in Eliott’s arms was to replace her. He wants to be the one that gets to kiss Eliott every time he wants and feel his beautiful hands on his body.

But that would never happen because Eliott doesn’t love me.

PRESENT, SAMEDI 9:31

A voice fades in,“…—cas, Lucas? Hello? Still with me?”

Lucas blinks at the waving hand in from his face. He cranes his neck up to look into a pair of concerned onyx eyes.

“Great, you’re back. You scared me.” Ethan? Elias? Says with a sigh.

His face immediately lights up when he locks eyes with Lucas.

“How was the view from up there? Did you catch any stars?”

His deep voice brings Lucas back to reality. Lucas must have been mentally gone for a long time because the man was now dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie. He was also holding a coffee cup in each hand. The aroma of the drinks makes him crave the caffeine he needed to wake up.

Lucas quirks his lips because he’s suddenly feeling shy. He’s still half-naked and is in desperate need of a shower. He stares at the wall behind the boy trying to find his way out of this shitty situation.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s been fun.’ No, too passive. ‘Look, this can’t happen again.’ Too insensitive. ‘It’s not you; it’s me?’ What a fucking cliche.

“Uh, ahem—No stars, just really tired.” He settles avoiding eye contact at all cost.

“Yeah, I get that.” The pretty stranger chuckles softly with a coy smirk.

“I mean we didn’t get much sleep last night. Are you sure you are okay?”

Lucas nods shyly, cheeks heating up.

“Good. How about some coffee? Croissants?” The guy smiles brightly and gosh, why does he have to be so lovely? It only makes him feel ten times worst for what he’s about to do.

“Coffee should do, thank you…?” Lucas dragged it out, waiting for a name as he takes the cup of coffee. The handsome stranger seems to get the memo and answers quickly. “It’s Étienne, Étienne Calvet.” Étienne’s smile grows wider when Lucas almost spills coffee on himself.

Étienne Calvet. The name rings a bell; he’s a famous model in Paris. He has soulful eyes and perfect features that are often present on brand names such as Givenchy, Lanvin, Prada, and YSL. Lucas heard a lot about him because Étienne is also a writer and openly bisexual. Lucas mentally scolds himself for not realizing who he is sooner.

“No need to thank me. Listen, last night, we didn’t have time to introduce ourselves, but I know you. Lucas Lallemant, right?”

Lucas could only nod, still in shock. Étienne squeals.

“Wow! I can’t believe it. You almost won the César Awards. Congratulations on the nomination! The movie was beautiful. That scene where he dives into the ocean when he found out—” Étienne goes onto praising Je T'aime in great detail.

Lucas wants to dig a grave and bury himself in it. Étienne sounds genuinely interested and excited like a fanboy meeting their favorite celebrity for the first time. Lucas is not sure if he should be flattered or creeped out.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it. He needs to come clean to this guy. He swallows his guilt down and proceeds to grab the sheets around his waist, giving Étienne a stern look as he gets up from the bed.

“Look, thank you, Étienne.” Étienne’s smile only gets brighter.

“For everything but I’m sorry this…” Lucas gestures between them. “It can’t happen again…” Lucas feels like vanishing into thin air when he sees Étienne’s eyes dime slightly. He gazes downward for a few seconds before bringing his face back up with his signature smile.

“As I said before, no need to thank me. But could we at least be friends?” Étienne is now looking down at the ground again, resembling a kicked puppy. He has a way of making Lucas feel like a total dick.

Lucas knows it’s not a good idea. He should decline and spare Étienne the heartbreak, but he’s not thinking clearly right now. So he holds out his hand with a small smile.

“Okay. Just friends.”

***

SAMEDI 10:19

After almost an hour or so, Lucas finally steps out into the streets of Paris. After running through the shower and exchanging numbers with Étienne, they said their goodbyes. Étienne’s hopeful expression is going to haunt Lucas forever. But for now, Lucas pushes all that away and focuses on getting home.

Lucas has always loved mornings the most out of all the times of the day. Fresh air, dew on the pavement and the calming ambiance are precisely what he needs at the moment to relax.

Which is why he decides to take a short walk around the city. He still can’t believe he slept with a complete stranger. A part of him gets it; he was heartbroken and miserable. For fuck sakes, the guy he loves is dating another person. He had every right to act on his emotions. He fell for Eliott like those shooting stars he sees every night before falling asleep. Ugh.

He shakes his head to snap out of his negative thoughts. This needs to stop. Seriously. He needs to focus.

Lost in thought, Lucas doesn’t notice a group of suspicious men following him. The men were discreetly taking pictures of Lucas, trying to figure out where he was last night. According to the rumors, Lucas left with a special someone. They were vultures preying on the carcass of any previous night’s drama.

They wanted to be the first one to get the scoop, and so they hurriedly make their way to an unsuspecting Lucas.

“Lucas Lallemant! Monsieur Lallemant! Can we ask what your whereabouts were last night!?”

Fuck. My. Life.

Lucas mentally curses his luck. He knew this was going to happen eventually, but why now? Lucas knows he looks like complete crap right now, and that’s not an appropriate look for the cameras. Great fucking timing. The universe must be laughing at him.

“Monsieur Lallemant, are you aware of the rife speculations that you might be seeing someone? Can you tell us who!” One of them urges boldly. What kind of sick question is that? Lucas is shaking; not only from anger but also from fear.

His fears of being outed. He’s afraid the world would criticize him, and people would label him as just another “gay icon.” He didn’t want to be a label. He’s just a man named Lucas that happens to like other men. That should not be a reason for people to criticize him.

Did they see us? Who else saw him leave the party?

Lucas is usually really good at dealing with the mobs of paparazzi, but today, he is beyond exhausted. Not wanting to start a scene, he quickly covers his face and flees from the scene. He vaguely hears them say something about a hickey at the back of his neck followed with the sounds of cameras flashing.

His eyes widen in panic.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Lucas can’t breathe because his lungs are now filled with dread. His heart is drumming quickly in his chest.

Flashes of this father’s disappointed scowl washed over him. He feels sick to his stomach. His dad hated his existence already, so what would he think when he founds out Lucas is gay?

He would probably say with a disgusted face that he was disappointed in Lucas.

No!

Why should he even bother if he’s going to be a disappointment anyway?

Shut up!

Why can’t he be like the others? He just had to end up being the unwanted gay son, didn’t he?

Stop it!

Lucas starts running; becoming one with the wind. He is running away from not only the paparazzi but also all his problems. His heels are clicking on the stone pavement as he zooms past pedestrians and street performers.

Could this day get any worse?

And the universe gladly accepts the challenge. Within the next moment, his phone starts vibrating from a message. Lucas abruptly slows down and hesitantly pulls the device from his pocket, unlocking the screen.

It’s from him.

Eliott.

Eliott: “Mind telling me why people are saying we started dating?”

Eliott: “You could’ve asked me first, Lulu. ♥️”

The next text sent makes his heart drop. It’s a slightly blurry picture of himself leaving the bar. He looks extremely drunk and is holding hands with someone. Lucas is a hundred percent sure it’s Étienne dragging Lucas to his apartment. Thank fuck, the picture is so blurry no one could see anything but Lucas. However, the headline reads, “WHO WAS THIS MYSTERIOUS NEW FLAME?” And the article goes into details of webbing lies out of the photo.

It’s like time had stopped and the world froze. Lucas’ head is pounding from everything that’s happening at once.

This was it — the biggest mistake of his life.

He wishes for a falling star to crash upon him. He just wants it to end it all.

TO BE CONTINUED…

(A/N: Oh.My.God. This is my first time writing fanfiction, guys! I hope you guys enjoyed it!! Special thanks to @sweetdreamsjetaime and @lovebird1517 for helping me!

Additional info: I’m thinking of making this into a tv show format about these two soulmates having to work for their love (the angst, the drama!) but it’ll be worth it by the end. There’s going to be behind the scenes content too (meaning; covers, magazines, and social media content?), so watch out for those (SKAM style👀). I would also love to read your feedback and any thoughts you have on the story! ☺️ Thank you so much for reading! Best wishes!🌠)

#skam france #skamfr #elu fanfic #elu fic #myedits #elu aesthetics #ffs fic #falling for stars fic #i can't believe i did this #this was so fun!#I hope you enjoyed this #lucas x eliott #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu au #elu au fic #skam elu #elu

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rosepetalmark · 6 years ago

Text

Not in the Stars

2.5k words

Renjun x Reader

warnings: alcohol mention

in which you plan to confess your love for your best friend to him at a party, but the universe has other plans in store for the both of you.

You like Renjun. A lot.

That was one sentence in your five years of friendship with Huang Renjun that you never thought you’d say to yourself, let alone admit to.

You don’t know where these feelings came from, but all you know is that they’re strong and on your mind twenty four seven. Everything he says and does captivates your mind, causing your feelings for him to grow even stronger.

It’s as if these feelings for him suddenly hit you like a brick one day. You were strictly best friends last week, and now you have these unexplainable deep feelings for him, eating you alive and begging for you to confess to him.

It’s not that you’re opposed to dating Renjun, it’s just that he’s been your best friend for several years and he means so incredibly much to you. You just don’t want to risk losing him or making things between you two weird if he doesn’t feel the same.

So you suppress your feelings. As long as you have Renjun as your best friend, that’s all that matters, right?

Jaemin always makes you second guess yourself, explaining that the dynamic duo that you and Renjun are would be ten times more incredible if you were dating. Since you’re already best friends and know everything about each other, why not date? Only bigger and better things can come from it he always says.

Although Jaemin makes strong points, you’re still scared Renjun will turn you away, mainly because you’re ninety nine percent certain that he only views you as a friend, nothing more and nothing less.

Yeah you have sleepovers and spend hours late at night talking on the phone with one another, but that’s what best friends do. If Huang Renjun has any feelings for you, you’re sure someone would have said something by now.

You get the typical stares from old people when you make your daily trek to school in the morning, him waiting outside your house for you at exactly seven forty two, smiling so bright the second you walk out your front door.

You constantly get mistaken as his girlfriend whenever you go out together on the weekend, which always causes a deep pink blush to appear on Renjun’s cheeks. He’s always quick to brush it off though, making it clear to everyone around you that you’re strictly best friends, and that neither of you view each other in that way.

Boy is he wrong.

Everything about Renjun makes your heart flutter, and that’s something that scares you.

For starters, he excels so well in school. For someone who spends eighty percent of his time doodling instead of taking notes, he aces every test and can recite every piece of information that’s been discussed in class with no problem.

He’s caring and funny, and so unapologetically himself. He takes you to art museums on your spare time, talks about the latest conspiracy that’s on his mind, and always insists you go for milkshakes every Sunday night.

And boy was he cute. The way he tilts his head all the way back and crinkles his eyes when he laughs makes your heart absolutely melt.

Huang Renjun makes you happy and positive and there’s nothing more in this world that you want than to hold his hand and kiss him in public, as well as call him your boyfriend so bad.

It wasn’t until you were out late with him, hanging out on the roof at Jeno’s house, trying to escape the loudness that was coming from inside. Jeno was throwing a kickback to celebrate the beginning of summer, something he does ever year, in which there’s always too many people inside, and you and Renjun find yourself on the roof trying to seek solace in the stars.

Renjun looked so ethereal in the moonlight. There was nothing more that you wanted to do than press your lips ever so gently against his, and hold his hand while staring up at the stars displayed so brightly above you both in the dark sky.

“What are you thinking about bubs?” Renjun asked, referring to the nickname he gave you when he found out that’s the name you gave your favourite stuffed rabbit when you were a child.

God the way his voice sounded in this moment made you weak. The tipsiness you both experienced earlier was wearing off, causing your lack of hydration to become present through your raspy voices.

But you don’t care. You’re with Renjun, and you are warm and comfortable and in love.

In love.

You’re in love with Huang Renjun and you can’t keep it in any longer.

Maybe this would be the best time to tell him. Every time you’re completely sober, you push the idea to the side, trying your best to forget your feelings for him even exist. What if Jun doesn’t feel the same? What if he does but months down the line you figure out you’re better off as friends, and then when you try to get back into your non-romantic routine, everything feels off? You always worry that things will go wrong and Renjun will eventually stop being your friend.

Not tonight though. Renjun looks gorgeous in the moonlight and the little bit of alcohol that remains in your system is acting as your source of encouragement, convincing you to confess to him right now and hope for the best outcome possible.

“Love,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Love?” he questions, staring back to you, seemingly surprised with your response.

“Yeah. Just wondering what the universe has in store for me, you know?” you ask, turning your body to face his direction, criss crossing your legs over one another. “The idea of love both intrigues me and freaks me out. It’s exciting anticipating what will come from it, but the fear of something going wrong down the line makes me not want to pursue it, you know?” you say, staring innocently into his eyes.

He cocks his head, an intrigued look falling on his face. He purses his lips, looking as if he’s going to say something, but remains silent.

You both remain in silence for the next several minutes, which causes your thoughts to wander. What if Renjun has caught on? Maybe he’s thinking of ways to turn you down gently. Or he’s trying to express that he somehow knows you’re talking about him, and he’s trying to do so in a similar manner.

But the silence is killing you, and you want nothing more than for Renjun to say something. Anything to get your thoughts to shut up, and your heart race to stop rapidly beating.

“I think you shouldn’t be scared of love,” he finally says.

Taking a deep breath, he looks off into the sky, admiring the many stars laying millions of miles away from you both. “I get that you never know what may come out of it, but I think it’s worth a shot to know you tried, and to experience something you’re not fully sure is going to work,” he speaks softly.

“Take a look at the universe for example. It’s so big and undiscovered, yet millions of people are fascinated by it. We’re obsessed with the stars and galaxies and the possibility of aliens- which I know for a fact exist by the way, yet we’re not afraid to spend our time discovering them and giving them our attention. I think of love in a similar manner. Yeah the thought seems so broad and scary, as there’s so many things to experience and discover, but I think it’s worth it. You’re only going to learn new things about yourself and life, so why not give it a shot?”

He clears his throat, and pays his attention back to you. He has a look of determination in his eyes, and that only makes you grow even more anxious.

“Aren’t you a wise expert on love, Mr. Huang,” you chuckle.

“Well what can I say? I do a lot of thinking on my spare time when I’m not bickering with you,” he laughs, positioning himself on his arms so he can get a better view of the night sky.

“Hey!” you shout, pushing onto his arm, causing him to lose his newly comfortable position and to fall on his back. “What are you thinking about Ren? You have this sour look on your face.”

“Well your idea of love got me thinking,” he says softly, staring into your eyes.

Nervousness takes over your body. You have no idea what he’s going to say, and every second of silence is eating you up.

“And?” you say abruptly, eager to know what he’s about to say.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I don’t know, I never thought much of it because I’m a wimp, but I think I’m going to ask Yeri out” he confesses, a small smile forming on his face.

The mention of Yeri makes your heart sink. Yeri. He wants to ask out Yeri. Not you.

Of course he likes Yeri. What isn’t there to like about her? She’s really pretty and polite, and they’re both the editors of the school newspaper, so they spend a great amount of time with each other.

God this hurt.

“Oh really,” you respond, with a less enthusiastic tone replacing your prior happy one.

“Yeah. We’ve been getting to know each other a lot more ever since we got asked to do this editorial on the basketball team, and I think I may have feelings for her”

“Well, um I think you should go for it Renjun, “ you reply, looking off into the stars to help keep what’s happening off your mind. If you look into his eyes, you’re certain you’ll start crying.

If it’s not you, you’re glad he has an interest in a girl with a golden heart and personality.

“You think? What if she doesn’t like me?” he asks nervously, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“Like you said Ren, you never know what will come from love. Why not give it a shot if it’ll lead to potentially greater things not only within yourselves, but life in general? And if she ends up only seeing you as a friend, it’s okay. You’ll find someone one day who loves every part of you.”

And you can’t help but know deep down that that person is you. If Yeri rejects him, you’ll be right here to help him pick up the pieces, if not, you’ll still be here. As his best friend. Renjun deserves all the love and happiness the universe has to offer him, and despite being sad he shows no romantic interest in you, you’re glad he finds it in an amazing girl.

“Alright cool, I guess I’ll ask her out on Monday when we meet up to discuss the paper then.” he says, smiling to himself.

He looks so happy. Ecstatic even. You haven’t seen him smile this big since he won first place in your school’s art show.

“She’s here you know, at the party,” you say to him. “You should do it now.”

“You think?” he asks, eyes wide.

Renjun was never one to act on impulse. He’s a man with a plan, and always has to do things by the book or else he’ll lose his hair. He likes structure and time, a complete flip from your bold and impulsive self.

“Yeah, why not? You’re both here, you look really cute right now, and the stars are out in your favour, shining bright to provide you with the courage to do so.”

This makes Renjun smile. You’ve always been a help in boosting his confidence, and you’re glad to be of assistance in such a nerve-wracking yet exciting period in his life.

Standing up, he dusts the possible dirt off his legs. He crouches over, looking into your eyes and grabs your hand. “You’re the best y/n. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“As I with you,” you reply, a soft grin forming from your lips. “Now go downstairs and ask her out before she leaves.”

Standing back up, he begins walking to the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!” he half shouts, pressing his hand to the door handle, and making his way back into the house.

You’re now left alone, on the rooftop, with just the stars and your thoughts.

Why didn’t you bring up your feelings to him sooner, you thought. Now you’re only left sad and alone, because you were too scared to tell your best friend you’re in love with him. Confessing to him seemed so perfect in your mind a couple minutes ago, but sadly the universe has other plans in store for you.

You decide to get comfortable and lie down, and begin to look at the constellations that are possibly present within the night sky. You can still hear the loud, most likely drunk people just a floor below you, and the vibration of the music hitting your body despite being away from the noise. But you don’t care. It’s just you and the sky, and you’re doing everything in your power to forget about the party below you, and to focus on the stars.

As you point out the orion in the sky, you feel a buzz in your back pocket, indicating that you’ve got a text. Reaching for it, you unlock your phone, and see a notification stating that Renjun messaged you. Pressing on the messages app, you click on his name and read the following:

jun bug: she said yes!! we’re going out on tueday after we’re done editing :) (2:17 AM)

“Yes.” Yeri said yes.

You’re happy for your best friend, but for yourself, you’re heartbroken. The possibility of dating him is now slim to none, especially since a potential girlfriend is in the mix, only making you more sad for yourself.

You make sure to reply quick, and in a way that’ll make him happy, and hopefully provide you with the positivity that everything will be okay.

y/n: i’m so happy for you ren <3 (2:18 AM)

As you press send, you feel the tears start to slide down your cheeks. You’re happy for him, you really are, but you can’t help but wish that things went differently, and that you were in Yeri’s position.

But as Renjun said before, love can be scary. It’s a learning experience, and if it doesn’t work out, you just need to take what you can from it, and hope for the best in the future.

So you’ll take his words, and you’ll try your best to move on.

It’ll be tough, but you hope to god that one day he’ll just be your best friend, and that this heartbreak won’t last with you forever.

#i wrote the majority of this in one shot and i'm pretty proud #this piece is one of my favs b/c it's really relatable and I just love how i depicted Renjun in this #hope you all enjoy #huang renjun #renjun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct dream scenario #nct angst #huang renjun scenario #nct fluff

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diveronarpg · 6 years ago

Photo

Congratulations, JENN! You’ve been accepted for the role of CRESSIDA Admin Rosey: I had never expected Cressida to give me a reckoning. I expected her to be soft, malleable, somewhat broken by what her father has done to her. But you have given me all of that, Jenn, but ten thousand times more. You’ve given me her brokenness and made it iron, her kindness and made it gold. This was not at all what I was expecting when I thought of Cressida, but it’s much, much better than that. I am on the edge of my seat when it comes to the wild card that is this Madam Duval. I know I won’t be disappointed. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Jenn Age | 21+ Preferred Pronouns | She/her Activity Level | With work, I’ll probably get around to writing a couple replies at lunch and in the evenings when I’m home. So, that’s a few hours each day which is like a solid 6/10 for me :) Timezone | GMT+8 Current/Past RP Accounts | Both are inactive @lcarian & @littleflvme

In Character

Character | Cressida // Celeste Duval

You look in the mirror. Your bloodied mouth twists into a frown, and your eyes shine with disdain. What a damn waste of space. Yet again, you disappoint. “What wrong have I done? How much better would I be if I had been born a son?” It is unjust, unwarranted that your sex is deemed inferior all because you can make babies and not be the one who held a cock. “They are fucking wrong.”

You seethe at the sight of your name written in tasteless, serif font on the header of your journal. You strike it out, wanting to be rid of your family’s dictation and those dull letters, C. DUVAL. Instead, in the center of the page you put down these words in pink marker—permanence above all else. Your script is bold—vertical strokes, both straight and rounded, penned thickly in the cursive hand of not a child but a budding woman who, underneath it all, radiates conviction.

I AM CELESTE DUVAL AND I WILL RULE THE DAMN WORLD.

What drew you to this character? | We’d love to hear what about this character’s bio caught your attention! Make this as long or as short as you desire!

Celeste is a law unto herself. What she is made out of is nothing short of sheer will power—a storm with skin, a sun capable of razing whole kingdoms. She breathes the lethal combination of initiative and annihilation and perhaps that’s what her parents were too stupid to realise before branding her useless. She is, in fact, malleable and they lacked the faculty and interest in moulding her due to superficial beliefs. But blessed by the Fates, she had the propensity to be great and she knew that. She knew it in her very bones. I can’t help but find that she is an independent character with a complex engineering capable of masochistic deeds which she alone has accomplished. Because like Cressida, Celeste is painfully aware that in this very masculine world her sexuality is her advantage and power and acts on the fact.

But for all her cunning and edge, her fetters come in the form of family and a nauseating amount of obligation. In that sense, I feel that she’s very relatable—that gnawing feeling that compels you to make your parents proud. She doesn’t care for anyone’s feelings or reputation but her family’s, and even then it’s not out of love but necessity despite how contradicting it might come across. Take into account that she’s been born and bred in an environment that constantly exhorts her to seek the validation of her parents. Celeste is a commodity, a subject of the machinations of her father and she knows it well but she’ll be damned before she repeats the tragedies of Cressida (or her own father, for the matter). She won’t be dragged into the gutter the same way.

In short, I choose Celeste because she is a growing mastermind. I choose her because she is a woman capable of pushing past her boundaries, her liabilities—of brandishing her arsenal of wiles and manipulation at the most opportune moments,—of brilliant intellect and drive. I choose her because her family underestimates her, that she’s merely a chess piece to be moved then tossed aside, yet she protects them and I find that very admirable. I choose Celeste Duval because she bore the bitter cost of being sold into a loveless bargain—because she has long lost her rose-coloured glasses and has in its place adopted a more cynical view of the world, a world in which she is determined to be a wolf among dogs.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | Where do you see this character developing, and what kind of actions would you have them take to get there? 3 future plot ideas would be preferable.

FAREWELL, BASTARD // The biggest thorn in her side now is a slippery one. Easton. Craven. Deplorable Capulet scum. It’s a dynamic I am much too excited to explore. The angst will be one to speak of for centuries. Celeste wants to make him eat his words. He never much concerned her before but he made things personal, so she’s out for blood. A Duval isn’t offended without meeting out consequences. While I am pretty much open to anything regarding this unfortunate duo, I would love to write about the challenges Celeste will face in overcoming this villian in her story. Whether she fails or succeeds…I imagine it’s just a matter of moving the right pieces at the right time. “My turn.”

FOR TO BE WISE AND LOVE EXCEEDS MAN’S MIGHT // “Do you take Tomas Sabello to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The gods must have spared Celeste no mercy shackling her to Tomas. She is nothing if not fiery but with Tomas she feels…well, that’s the problem. She doesn’t feel anything for him that she wouldn’t feel for a mosquito. “I do.” At this point, she isn’t sure if he’s in love with her (perhaps, more the idea of her) or in love with love itself. If Tomas is smart, he’ll figure out that Celeste won’t be falling for him anytime soon. But when life gives you lemons…you make the best out of Tomas Sabello. To me, this connection is rather intriguing because I can see Celeste exploiting Tomas the way she has been exploited, to steer him to gain whatever it is she wants given his connections to the mob and his industry. But I can also see him threatening her happiness more than he already does. He unknowingly wields a double-edged sword—destroy her happiness and save her reputation, or destroy her name and let her grapple at whatever contentment she can seize. Cressida’s only odds stacked in her favour is that Troilus is ill informed on the subtleties of war.

THOU LAY'ST EVERY GASH THAT LOVE HATH GIVEN ME // And take those gashes she will, willingly. I want to say their love is the type that moves mountains, that swallows whole oceans, that transcends all time and space. “Alas, I cannot. Not yet, mia bella.” Isabella Gagliano—she’s smart, she’s beautiful, resourceful and most importantly, she’s honest. She brings out the best in Celeste (when they’re alone). Being together in Verona is a challenge Celeste did not see coming. On one side, a Capulet maw is waiting to devour her. On the other, Cupid’s bow struck true. And around her, the world watches. To be in love with Isabella is to be caught between a rock and a hard place. It’s only a matter of time before Isabella becomes tired of hiding. The truth will out and when the time comes, then there lies their final test—will love triumph over all? Or will power and respectability?

DO TO THIS BODY WHAT EXTREMITY YOU CAN // Wolves are known to trick guard dogs by sending out a female wolf. In the same manner, Celeste’s sexuality can be put to good use when brokering deals or negotiating an accord. I can see this being more than the stereotypical plot where a woman uses her allure to get what she wants. This touches on sexual extortion/exploitation in a very real way. There is so much space for flexibility with this plot and subplots where I can see her forging alliances, making enemies, making more promises she doesn’t intend to keep, etc. But overall, I see this as a very developmental plot for her character in that she will have no choice but to finally see herself for who she is and decide if she likes what she sees.

ONE TOUCH OF NATURE MAKES THE WHOLE WORLD KIN // I’m pretty sure she isn’t the only one in the mob to have been coerced (or “gently pushed”) into the position she’s in right now. This plot is not just about making friends—it’s about making friends in the right places be it Montague or Capulet. Celeste is ironically very much like her father. She’s ambitious. “And ambition can take you to very dangerous places. Better you cease your nonsense than fail.” Thanks, dad. But obviously, it takes more than words to deter her. Celeste is set on climbing out of her father’s shadow and making a name for herself but she can’t do it alone. I’m talking bribes, underhand dealings, secret arrangements It’ll be a nice bonus if they take out a few people on their hit list on their way up. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?

MEN PRIZE THE THING UNGAINED MORE THAN IT IS // Is the grass greener on the other side? Cressida’s whole story revolves around her being traded to the enemy. If shit does go down, this will be an extremely, 100% intense story driven plot device that can be used to spin a new tale for Celeste where she, like Cressida, is forced to or willingly betrays the Montagues to save herself. However, like all the plots I’ve listed so far, I’d love for this to be an organic progression for Celeste’s character especially in the choice she makes if she chooses to stay loyal to or double-cross the Montagues. Her sense of loyalty and obligation is an integral part of her identity and while I can see her evolving as a person, I wouldn’t want to force or distort it.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I am, yes! Though Celeste promises she won’t go down alone, if at all.

In Depth

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

(tw: death mention)

There are two ways to end this interview—one where she spares a man, and another where she damns him. Won’t you stay to find out which you want more?

***

What is your favorite place in Verona?

Anywhere but home, if that’s what you can even call it, Celeste wants to say. The words were already poised on the tip of her tongue but the hearsay that will plague her hence promises too much displeasure especially if word were to come back of her less than picture perfect life. Nevertheless, she lets her lips part as if secrets were to be spilled that instance but the words were different from her thoughts.

“Oh, you know what? I’m thrilled that you asked,” she says, an answer already taking form, waiting to be divulged. “My bath,” the tilting of her lips and closing of eyes as she inhales paint a picture of scented candles and a soaked body. “It’s very relaxing in the water. We’ve just had our house renovated. Tomas has such an excellent eye for design, you know. It’s never looked better.” The lies drip like sugar—sticky like a spider’s web and she at the center of it, a black widow waiting to strike. “You should come have a look one day.”

What does your typical day look like?

Now that was a question worthy of the likes of Lawrence Vernon—borderline prying, equal parts intrusive and dubious. But the limelight demands blood and that was the only currency that really matters. So, she bares her teeth with a grin, sweet as the devil and even slicker still. She, a darling of Verona, has more to say with a smile than with talking when she employs her perfect blend of truth and deception.

“Well, as you know I’m rarely on vacation here. Work takes up most of my time. Actually, we just did the photo shoot in the heart of the city—it’s for my next fall collection. So, it’s mostly just replying emails and finalizing edits with the photographer before the big showcase. A business cannot run itself, no?” she laughs, pausing to ascertain his satisfaction with her answer. He laughs with her. “But I find that taking a walk around the city after lunch helps with inspiration.” And allows time for a detour certainly. Emissary work always came first even in the middle of a work day. “We’re planning on launching in August. I can’t tell you much more than that I’m afraid. Or else my publicist will have my head!”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Allowing mediocrity to run through my veins. The fear of failing is so ingrained in her that it only takes two seconds before she registers her heart beating harder ever so slightly. It was a disgusting flaw, one she finds nearly impossible from which to separate. But she does. She stops, her mouth pouts in ponderance as if she isn’t waiting to end the interview already. “I love my fashion line. I love it, I do. My only regret is that I hadn’t started it sooner.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Her whole life has been a task but one that takes the cake has to be pretending she wasn’t in love with Isabella, especially now when she was so close. The woman is life itself and without her, Celeste finds it hard to breathe. No, impossible. But pretences must be upheld lest the Fates be too tempted to lay waste to her even further. “Two things. One, building this business from scratch. Two, outgrowing my father’s shadow,” she laughs again though this time it doesn’t reach her eyes. As intended, the man fails to notice having been distracted by the way she folds her bare legs one over the other, the slit of her skirt riding up a small degree. “You know how it is. A woman with her own business is rather a challenge in itself, isn’t it? Thankfully, I’ve got all the support I need.”

The night went on as most interviews would go—a meeting at a nice restaurant, dinner, a drink, maybe two and that was it. But when they were the last two to leave, Celeste couldn’t help but feel something amiss. “What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?” she asks the man instead. Sharp eyes turned up at the question—a final question. It was what she had been waiting for. The perfect opportunity. “Ah,” she finally realises what was wrong, “We’ve run out of wine.”

She reaches up for the bottle and begins to pour. “Are we friends, Signor Henri? You know friends don’t lie. Let’s pretend we are. So, I’ll be honest for the first time tonight.” The glass is almost full by then and the bottle all but vertical like the hand of a clock at midnight—his time was nearly up. She answers her for him. “The Capulets are the dirt beneath the gold, a most unwelcome stain on this city. And you, dear friend, have been propagating their agenda despite our…propositions that you don’t.” The war will forever be a pissing contest, she cannot deny, but what does it matter if she plays for the winning side? “You should have done your work better. Damiano isn’t happy with what you’ve been publishing about us.” She says the words with pride. Us. The Montagues.

The glass brims with wine—scarlet overflows, crimson spreads and stains the white cloth beneath. His time was up and black clad men entered the room, the harbingers of his end drew near. All she had to do now is tell them whether to spare him or doom him. Celeste holds the bottle in her hand like the life she now holds between her fingers, tenderly, eagerly. Was this not what she wanted? Power. She sets the bottle down, signalling the men.

“Lucky for you, you won’t need to do any more damage control. We’ll say your last piece for you.”

The devil take thee, indeed.

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

PLAYLIST // a measure of ascendance

MOCKBLOG // ttitaness

#accepted: cressida #accepted

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pineapple-qween · 7 years ago

Text

Silence (part 4)

Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here

Relationship: Batfam x Reader

Summary: The Batfam has taken care of you as you recovered from trauma, now you wanted to repay them.

Key: Y/N= your name, S/H/N= your superhero name, Y/W= your weapon of choice

Dick taught you well. Better than he could’ve imagined at the beginning. That, plus your own improvement, is why you trusted him to put together a vigilante suit for you, one you would begin going out. It took a few weeks before Dick had gotten back to with what he had forged for your suit.

“Okay babybird, I hope this will do.” Dick handed you the clothes and sent you to try them on. He waited excitedly, he was so proud of you. You and Dick had trained together and he was overwhelmed at how quick you were on your feet. If he didn’t think of you as his cute little sister, you would be a terrifying opponent.

“Awe, look at you! S/H/N, yeah that sounds perfect. You like it?” You nodded vigorously, a smile spread across your face. “Awesome. Well S/H/N, tonight me, Tim, and the dynamic duo are on patrol, are you going to come out?” You shrugged unsure. “You gotta start sometime, and I’ll be able to help you if you’re out with us. I can keep an eye on you.”

You mulled it over. “Oh-oh-ok-ay,” you agreed. Dick let out an excited yelp and you returned the excitement, but a lingering feeling was hidden in the back of your mind.

You guessed it was nervousness. You didn’t want to let them down.

You knew you would have to give Alfred the slip that night. When patrol happened, Alfred kept an almost magical watch on you. He would keep you in the cave with him and have you “run tactical analysis” of the mission, or just relay how well the mission was going (usually poor).

This time you were going to need a good excuse to bail. One that Alfred couldn’t debate or really question. That’s when it struck you. You knew the perfect excuse.

That night, you stuck out your stomach and slowed your walk to a shuffle. You let your head droop as you approach the butler behind the computer. You tapped his shoulder lightly, as not to startle him. “Ah-el, c-c-can I s-st-st-st-ay in b-bed?” You then rubbed your stomach to signal illness.

“Y/N? Is it a cold, flu, or woman problem,” Alfred watched as you put up the ASL for three. Alfred grew slightly paler, but nodded. “Please go rest up. I’ll check on you when patrol has ended.”

You shuffled back to the stairs and slowly walk back up to the manor. Once you know Alfred couldn’t hear you, you made a break for your bedroom. You slid on your knees to your closet, dug through the pile of clothes you stacked over the metal box, and then you pulled the box into your lap. You began to pull out all the pieces of the uniform, the separate com for Dick, and Y/W, the weapon you trained with. You put everything on and looked at the finished product in your mirror. Nodding, you said to yourself, “T-th-this i-i-is it.”

And with that, you escaped through the window and began your first patrol.

Dick tried his best to be as normal as possible, but he was nervous/excited. He was nervous that his training would not pan out and you might get hurt. He was excited because you had put your mind to something and it seemed as though you had improved in many ways because of it.

“Nightwing, are you listening?” Bruce’s voice pierced through his thoughts.

“Yeah, Bat, whatcha need?” Dick spoke as casual as possible, knowing Bruce would be able to catch him if he sounded a pitch out of the ordinary. Dick listened as Bruce told him his last stop of the night. As Dick made his way to the final location, he got worried wondering where in Gotham you might be. He began to think, and hope, you had changed your mind.

He decided to switch coms as briefly as possible to see if you were on. “S/H/N, S/H/N, you read?” He listen to white static for a minute or two before something crackled back to him.

“Y-y-yea. I-I-I g-got e-ey-ey-eyes on y-y-yo-you,” Dick listened to you stutter, proud you’ve gotten so far with your words even though they weren’t perfect and you still signed sometimes. Dick took a look around, spotting you hidden behind the ledge of a roof top two buildings down. He gave a quick wave to you and watched as you nodded back.

“I’m switching channels, keep an eye out, stay safe.” Dick saw you nod again and switched back to the BatCom. “Yo Bats, there doesn’t seem to be anything going on here. You want me to run back?”

“No, Dick, we’re on our way to you! Stay put, criminals on the move to your location. Be aware: armed and dangerous.” Dick could hear the revving of the BatMobile as Bruce shouted into the com.

Dick could feel the color drain from his face. He secretly had hoped Bruce would’ve said no, and you would’ve had the most uneventful first patrol, but that’s just not how the universe works.

You peaked over the building’s ledge again, checking on Dick. This time his body was ridged and he looked on edge. You knew that meant “Something Wicked this way Comes” (one of the many books Jason read to you) and you were going to have to be prepared.

A crackle sounded in your ear and Dick’s voice came through, tense, “Y/N, listen carefully. Bruce said some pretty nasty people are on their way and I need you to stay away,” you began to protest, “Don’t question it. If you can, get out of here as soon as possible. I mean it, this is no joke. Tell me you understand!” You know Dick, and you know when he could be joking, and Dick was definitely not joking.

At the same time, you knew this was the perfect time to try to help and show how thankful you are. “Uh-uh-un-und-under-st-stan-stand,” you assured Dick. You didn’t want to lie, but you had to, this was your time.

“Thank god,” he mumbled, “I’m switching back to BatComs, stay safe, and get out of here.” You nodded, not knowing if he’d see. This wasn’t the end of the night for S/H/N, it was only a very exciting beginning.

Tag List: @iamthenightiambatman @sapphichorror

#bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #dick grayson imagine #jason todd imagine #tim drake imagine #damian wayne imagine #batman #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #batfam imagine #batfam #richard grayson

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dazzledbybooks · 6 years ago

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As a young ballerina in Paris, young adult novelist A. K. Small studied at the famous Académie Chaptal and later danced with companies across the US. Inspired by the dancers from her childhood, Small weaves a vivid story of a fiercely competitive female friendship in her dazzling debut, Bright Burning Stars (Publication Date: May 21, 2019; $17.95). Following two teens fighting for center stage and a spot in the Opera’s prestigious corps de ballet, this page-turning novel explores the lengths it takes to turn talent into a career. A gifted new writer, Small brings the reader into the passionate world of ballet all while telling an engrossing story of female friendship. Kate and Marine have trained since childhood at the Paris Opera Ballet School where they formed an intense bond after respective family tragedies. Their friendship seems unshakeable until their final year when only one girl can be selected for a place in the Opera’s company. The physically demanding competition takes an emotional toll, and their support for each other starts to crumble. Marine’s eating disorder begins to control her life as she consumes less and dances more, and Kate discovers the depths of depression and the highs of first love as she falls for the school heartthrob—who also happens to be Marine’s dance partner. As rankings tighten and each day is one step closer to the final selection, neither girl is sure just how far she’ll go to win. With nuance and empathy, the intense emotions of teenage years are amplified in Small’s debut as the girls struggle with grief, mental health issues, and relationships, all set against the glamorous backdrop of Paris. With the incredible success of the film Black Swan and dance reality TV shows today, dance seems to be more popular than ever. Kirkus Reviews praises the debut as “addictive, angst-y, and heartfelt” while Entertainment Weekly.com calls out that Bright Burning Stars is “notable for the way it tackles sensitive topics such as mental illness and eating disorders”. In Bright Burning Stars, debut author A. K. Small pens a stunning, propulsive story about girls at their physical and emotional extremes, the gutting power of first love, and what it means to fight for your dreams. Praise: “Bright Burning Stars is the compulsively readable story. I was breathless and battling tears up until the very last stunning turns onstage and beyond. A dazzling, heart-wrenching debut.” — Nova Ren Suma, #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Room Away from the Wolves “The fascinating, competitive ballet world may get the YA novel it deserves with Bright Burning Stars...Pitched as an immersive, propulsive story into the world of ballet, Bright Burning Stars is also notable for the way it tackles sensitive topics such as mental illness and eating disorders.” —EntertainmentWeekly.com Review: Normally I don't put a warning on books but I felt like this one needed it. This book has a lot of dark themes. They aren't all handled well. Proceed with caution. Bright Burning Stars by A.K. Small is told in a dual POV. Kate and Marine are best friends. They became instant friends their first year of training together. Due to the ruthless and cutthroat nature of the ballet school, these two deal with a lot of insecurities and disorders. Then of course you have to have a male student that they both crush on. There are a lot of difficulties to this friendship. I felt like the plot was a little all over the place. I felt that thee was a lot of story arcs that weren't wrapped up so cleanly. I felt like the characters were extremely shallow. Here are my thoughts. It is great that A.K. Small wanted to tack all of these dark subjects but it would have been nice if we only have a couple vs the sixteen different dark themes. I also thought that the dark themes could have been handled better. Things magically being fixed and going away isn't practical so it would have been nicer to have a more realistic process for the issues. A.K. Small definitely brought issues to the for front of readers minds. I just don't feel like she did anything but glorify the issues. The book itself is a pretty fast read and the characters are easy to get to know as they are pretty shallow. I do like dark themes being address just wish there was more substance and resolutions for them. Excerpt: 1. Marine We stood outside the circular studio in the apex of the dance annex. Some of us obsessively rose up and down in first position to break the soles of our shoes, while others, like the boys, tucked their t-shirts into their tights and cracked their necks for luck. I didn’t do anything but clutch Kate’s hand. Kate and I always held hands before the weekly générales. But before I could ask her what she thought the new ratings would be, who would outshine whom on The Boards after only a week and four days of ballet classes and rehearsals in our final year at Nanterre, my name was called first. A bad omen: in six years of dancing here, the faculty had never switched us out of alphabetical order before. Isabelle The Brooder always started. I danced third. “Break a leg,” Kate said in English before I stepped into the studio, which made me smile because saying things in her mother tongue was Kate’s way of showing love. Inside the vast round room, three judges—judging deities really—sat erect behind a long folding table. Valentine Louvet, the director, was on the left, her dark hair twisted into a loose knot and rings adorning her fingers. She would sometimes look up at the giant skylight and I would swear that her lips moved, that she discussed students with Nijinsky’s ghost through the thick glass. Francis Chevalier, the ballet master, an older man with sweat stains radiating from under his arms, was on the right. While you danced, he rhythmically jabbed the tip of his cane into the floor. In the middle sat The Witch, aka Madame Brunelle, in glasses and a tight bun. When she disliked a student’s movement, which was almost always, we all whispered that worm-like silver smoke seeped from her nostrils and her ears. I didn’t look them in the eyes for fear of turning to salt. Instead, I hurried to the yellow X that demarked center, taking note of all the mirrors that wrapped around me like gauze. I tried not to criticize my reflection, how I was one kilogram fatter than when I’d last performed in May. I’d found out earlier this morning, courtesy of Mademoiselle Fabienne, the school nutritionist. Weigh-ins here were like random drug tests. You were called and asked to step onto the beastly scale whenever faculty felt like it. Now, all I could do was suck my stomach in and pray it didn’t affect my score. I placed my right foot on the tape, my left in tendu behind, then waited for the pianist’s introduction. As I offered the judges my most heartfelt port de bras, I concentrated on the ivory of my leotard, an atrocious color on me, yet a coveted symbol of my new elite rank. Seven other sixteen year-old rat-girls and I had risen to First Division. The variation we were to perform today was obscure, from The Three Musketeers, but I didn’t mind. Actually, I preferred low profile dances. The pressure somehow felt less. I also liked the three-count waltz, the way the notes filled up inside me, the rush of the C major melody, all making me zigzag across the studio. Music was why I kept going, my ticking heart. As the piano filled the air, my arms felt fluid, my balances sharp, and my leaps explosive. Even my hunger diminished. I steered myself from left to right then from front to back. My spirits lifted and my nerves calmed. Vas-y. I can do this, I thought. And then I remembered to give the judges my stage smile. Maybe I’ll rise from Number 3 to Number 2. During a slow triple pirouette, I held my foot above my knee, balanced, and stuck my landing in perfect fourth position, the number 2 floating like an angel’s halo above my head. But then I forgot to anticipate the piano’s shift in keys, the sudden acceleration. Realizing I was an eighth of a note off, I skipped a glissade to catch up to my saut de chat. Ne t’en fais pas, I told myself. Adjust. Yet, at once, The Witch stood up and snapped her fingers, silencing the music. “I thought you were here because of your auditory gift, Duval,” Madame Brunelle said. “Don’t students call you The Pulse?” I looked down at my feet. I hadn’t gone through three fourths of the variation. “They must be wrong. Would you like to have someone else come in and demonstrate? Teach you whole notes from half notes?” “No,” I whispered. “Miss Sanders,” Madame Brunelle yelled. Kate poked her head inside the studio. A joke, I thought. Kate was a dynamic ballet dancer but well known for her lack of rhythm. “Mademoiselle Duval needs help with her waltz tempo. Would you run the variation through for her?” What? Kate nodded. She tiptoed into the studio, setting herself on the X the way I had done earlier. “Shadow her, Duval,” Madame Brunelle ordered. She snapped her fingers and the pianist began again. I danced behind Kate. We moved in unison, gliding into long pas de basques, arms extended. Kate seemed weightless, her heels barely touching the ground. A genuine smile fluttered on her lips. Her ivory leotard fitted her long narrow frame like skin. Blue crystal teardrops dangled from her ears as she spun. They glittered like fireflies. All of Kate glittered. The afternoon sun poured in from the skylight, lighting her up like a flame. The variation lasted a million years. At every step, my face grew hotter. The studio door had been left wide open, so I saw in the mirror’s reflection that other First Division dancers were peering inside and watching our odd duo. A wave of humiliation nearly toppled me. Madame Brunelle did not stop the music this time. She waited for Kate and me to finish with our révérence, then she dismissed us with a flick of the finger. I ducked out of the studio into the stairwell and didn’t wait for Kate. I could have sought refuge in the First Division dressing rooms but that was too obvious a hiding place so I rushed down three flights of stairs and into the courtyard. A mild September breeze blew. I fought back tears. It would have been easier, I thought, if The Witch had picked someone else. Anyone else. But Kate? Pitting me against my best friend? I wished I could keep walking past the trees, alongside the fence, out of the gates, down L’Allée de La Danse, to the metro, all the way home to the center of Paris and my mother’s boulangerie. There, inside with the warmth and the sugary smells, I would find a tight hug, an, “It’s okay, Chérie. You don’t have to do this unless you want to.” But I knew I wouldn’t. I’d have to go back to the dorms to change into street clothes or at least take off my pointe shoes and then I’d see Oli’s battered demi pointes on my bed. Plus, I’d come this far. Hadn’t I? Only 274 days until the final Grand Défilé. Judgment Day: when everyone, except for two strikingly gifted students—one female, one male—got fired in the top division. I plopped down into the middle of the courtyard and found the sky. How could I have messed up on tempo? I closed my eyes and inhaled. “Hey!” Kate yelled a minute later. I started. She stood at the entrance of the courtyard, breathing hard. “Do you think you could have gone a little faster?” she said, crossing her arms. She was still in her leotard, tights, and pointe shoes. Her neck flushed bright red from running. Wisps of blond hair framed her face. “You hurtled down the stairs like a bat out of hell, M. I thought you were going to tumble and fall.” Bat out of hell? I nearly corrected her and said that here we used comme un bolide—like a rocket—but instead I replied, voice sharp, “Too bad I didn’t.” “You don’t mean it,” she said. “Mistakes happen. You’re only human.” Kate sat down beside me. She smelled woodsy, even after she danced. We watched as pigeons flittered around the bright white buildings. On our left were the dorms with their common rooms at the bottom. In front, the dance annex loomed. It was known for its grand staircase, bay windows, cafeteria, and Board Room where all big decisions were made. On the right was the academic wing with classrooms and faculty offices. Little pathways led from one building to the others with awnings in case of rain. If I turned around, I could peek at the high concrete wall hidden between oak trees. Sometimes I wondered if the barrier was there to keep rats from fleeing or strangers from trespassing. Kate squeezed my ankle then flashed me her best smile. “The Witch is an asshole. Seriously. Don’t sweat it.” At her touch, my eyes filled. The tempo mix up hadn’t been Kate’s fault. Only mine. I quickly wiped the tears with the back of my hand. “Have I told you that I dig wearing ivory?” Kate said. “Last night, I called my dad and tried to explain it to him. How good it felt to parade around in this sublime color. I said it was like receiving the freaking Medal of Honor but he didn’t get it.” “Of course not.” I shook my head. And just like that, the weird moment between us, the resentment I’d felt at having to dance behind her, passed. I was about to tell her that after what had happened in the circular studio I would probably never wear ivory again, when younger rats came out into the courtyard, disturbing our privacy. Everyone always whispered about everyone else while waiting for ratings. Within the hour, the Board Room would open. Rankings would be posted on the wall. Rats who were rated below fifth place might be sent home. Now and again, I’d see a parent waiting by the school entrance and the wretched sight would make me flinch. But Kate, who was always at my side, would loop an arm around me and say, “Face it, M. Not everyone is cut out for this.” Her thick skin soothed me today. “God, I can’t stand the sitting around,” Kate said. “Let’s play Would You.” “I thought you and I banned that game,” I replied. Kate laughed. “Things don’t go away just because you want them to, Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Or because the stupid rules say so.” I slapped her shoulder. “Ouch. Loosen up. I go first,” she said. “Would you die for The Prize?” The Prize. What every rat girl and boy was after: the large envelope with a red wax stamp on the back, a single invitation to become part of the Paris Opera’s corps de ballet. The thought of seeing that envelope made me dizzy with possibility. I almost said yes but she cut me off. “If I close my eyes,” Kate said. “I feel the envelope’s weight in my hands, the warm wax beneath my thumbs. It’s damn near euphoric.” I looked away. Kate’s hunger for success, for being the Chosen One was sometimes so acute that it frightened me. “Are you asking because of Yaëlle?” The Number 3 rat from last year, a sweet girl from Brittany, once our roommate, had been found in her tiny single, lying atop her twin bed, in her ballet clothes, bones protruding at strange angles, eyes sunk deep in their sockets, dead a few days before Le Grand Défilé last May. She’d starved herself in the name of The Prize. Ever since, we’d all been on edge. Summer hadn’t changed the mood. If anything, getting back together after a few months away had heightened the sense of dread. “You’re not answering my question.” “No,” I decided. “I wouldn’t die for The Prize. Would you?” “Yes,” Kate said. “Absolutely.” There was no hesitation in her voice. “I’ve got another,” she said. “Would you hurt The Ruler for The Prize?” Gia Delmar, the Ruler. Always Number 1 on the boards, she was our biggest rival but this wasn’t the time to think about her. Not before rankings. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” I said, then I added, “Would you rehearse night and day?” “Yes. But would you do drugs?” “Would you?” “Rehearse night and day, sure. Drugs? Maybe.” “Kate!” I said. “Would you try to suck up to Monsieur Chevalier?” “No. But maybe Louvet.” Kate laughed. “I know. Would you sleep with The Demigod?” The Demigod? I shivered. Like The Ruler, The Demigod was off limits. As a rare conservatory transfer, he’d magically appeared in Second Division one sunny day last February and had outdone everyone. I didn’t want to think about the leaders, the rats most likely to succeed, even if they were supremely sexy. “No,” I answered. “Of course not. Would you?” “Maybe.” “That’s sick,” I said. “Sleeping with someone to climb the ladder?” Kate lowered her voice. “The Demigod is different, M. You know. Everybody knows. Even faculty. Look how they gawk at him. His talent is greater than the sun and the stars combined. Proximity to him is—” she paused, searching for her words. “The key to everything. Think of it as Lee Krasner, Jackson Pollock’s lover, collaborating with him on a canvas. Except that our canvas is four dimensional, made up of flesh, of bodies. Lee’s paint strokes had to intensify, right? The Demigod’s balletic gift, his glow, rubs off like glitter on his partners. Haven’t you noticed? Anyone who spends time with him in and out of the studio shoots up on The Boards. M, he is The King. You know what dance is? The art of the sensual. Electricity, entanglement, ease. You partner with him and you will blow the roof off this effing place. Plus,” she sucked in her breath, kept me in suspense. “He’s got the hottest quads in the universe.” I imagined Cyrille flying into splits, his thighs stiffening under silver tights, what his hands might feel like clasping mine if I was ever asked to partner with him. My whole body warmed. Kate was right. The Demigod was like food, like one of my mother’s pastries. You knew that eating it was bad for you, but you just couldn’t help yourself. I was about to warn Kate that the Greek demigods, as attractive as they were, ate their young and their lovers when Monsieur Arnaud, the groundkeeper, walked over to the old fashioned bell and rang it. The wooden doors creaked open and all the dancers scurried inside the Board Room. I still sat outside, frozen. What if I was ranked fifth or lower and got sent home? I thought of Oli. My promise to dance for him no matter what. Failing was not an option. Kate snagged my hand and pulled me up. “Come on, sweetie,” she said. I reluctantly followed her in. About the Author: A.K. Small was born in Paris. At five years old, she began studying classical dance with the legendary Max Bozzoni, then later with Daniel Franck and Monique Arabian at the famous Académie Chaptal. At thirteen, she moved to the United States where she danced with the Pacific Northwest Ballet for one summer in Seattle and with the Richmond Ballet Student Company for several years. She’s a graduate of the College of William and Mary and has an MFA in fiction from Vermont College of Fine Arts. When she’s not writing, she spends time with her husband, her puppy, and her three daughters, and practices yoga. Bright Burning Stars is her first novel.

http://www.dazzledbybooks.com/2019/05/brightburningstarsblogtour.html

#SEO #Local SEO training

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waynekelton · 6 years ago

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Review: Nomads of the Fallen Star

A colony ship crash-lands on a hostile planet, leaving the crew struggling against the odds to survive. With the passing of time, the chance of rescue diminishes so the colonists disperse and establish their own factions. Generations of survivors have eked out a living, but there is a limit to the barren planet’s resources and tensions between the competing factions are high.

Nomads of the Fallen Star is a sci-fi adventure in which you take on the role of the leader of a motley bunch of scavengers on a quest for fame and fortune. Initially, there are only two members in your team, a grizzled veteran who goes by the name of Varon and a young woman called Iona, who has a talent for chemistry. This unlikely duo must traverse the land, trading between the numerous settlements and completing missions whilst unravelling the background story as they go. As their reputation grows, they will be able to purchase better equipment and recruit new members.

From the onset, it is obvious that Nomads is a port of a PC game. Indeed, it has the look and feel of a PC game from the previous millennium. The font is tiny, the icons minuscule and the character portraits blurry and non-distinct. However, let us not be too harsh, this is the work of a solo developer and the PC version has attained plenty of positive feedback. Unfortunately, even if you are prepared to overlook the rather off-putting presentation, Nomads of the Fallen Star’s ropeyuser-interface isn’t so easy to excuse.

You will spend a lot of time watching the various factions, militia and caravans trundling slowly across the landscape. On one level, it is easy to admire the machinations that are whirling away in the background creating the sense of a real living world. However, when you just want to get from A to B it quickly becomes immensely frustrating. You have to scroll the map using a little virtual joystick that is nestled at the bottom left-hand corner of the screen. Release the joystick and the screen flips back to centre on your party. It is a system that feels both clunky and irritating. When you are used to navigating maps by tapping and dragging, it feels positively archaic. Furthermore, you have to constantly switch between input modes to either confirm orders or find out additional information. There are other problems too, such as an exit button that doesn’t appear to do anything and an abort mission button that is all too easy to accidentally press. Overall, it feels like an interface that has been shoehorned into a touchscreen device instead of being designed from the ground up.

Combat is a little macabre as you manoeuvre your units, represented by disembodied heads, around a rudimentary grid. You can then use your action points to initiate numerous attacks. The tiny icons aren’t really distinct enough so the first few battles are even more confusing than they need to be. It is especially tough at the start of the game when you only have two team members and limited equipment. Because the game is so open-ended you can find yourself involved in some hopelessly one-sided battles, and with no option to quit you are forced to see things through to the bitter end. You can pep up your team by taking some performance-enhancing drugs, but the lack of terrain features means that the best tactic is usually to wait around on the left of the screen until the reckless enemies charge into range.

If you are a true sadist then you can play with the permadeath option turned on. However, this game is so tough that any sane souls will probably select the option where death only returns your adventurers to the last settlement that they visited. When you start playing it seems like everything is stacked against you; shortages of food and water, strict mission deadlines and overpowering opponents all serve to frustrate. To be fair the game does give advice, but you have to really pay attention and read everything carefully otherwise you may miss some crucial hints. The vast amount of information that is thrown at the player can feel overwhelming and you soon realise the need to narrow your focus to a few specific goals. Unfortunately, there isn’t an option to make additional saved game files. This seems odd given the open-ended nature of the game, which encourages exploration and experimentation.

This all sounds very negative, but in spite of these concerns Nomads of the Fallen Star still has some really neat ideas. The combination of trading and squad-based combat works well and the music is wonderful, flowing from the beautifully eerie to the pulse-poundingly rousing. In some ways, Nomads is a tremendous achievement, not since Genesis has such a massive living world been created by a single pair of hands, although I’m betting that it took considerably longer than seven days to complete. The butterfly effect has been incorporated into the game with much thought and skill. For instance, a caravan carrying ale is ambushed on route to a local mine.

The miners go on strike, causing supplies of ore to dwindle. In the meantime, metal prices soar and supplies of weapons and armour are hit. The local militia grow ill-equipped and unhappy. Law and order begins to fall apart and raiders take the opportunity to fill their pockets with ill-gotten gains. To make matters worse disillusioned militiamen desert and join raiding groups. Yet, the number of caravans risking journeys has fallen, forcing the raiders to attack the outposts themselves. All because a few miners had dry throats and you didn’t get the crucial supplies through in time.

It is a shame that the dodgy interface and unforgiving introduction are likely to deter all but the most resolute of gamers. Nomads of the Fallen Star tells an interesting story set in a dynamic open-world of warring factions and economic hardships. There is so much to discover, like crafting, trading, scavenging, developing your faction and characters. After the initial hurdles, the game opens up and you can begin to appreciate the ambitious scope.

If you find the concept intriguing and you have the patience to take on the tough challenge then I strongly recommend that you give the PC version a try. Playing on a larger screen with mouse control rectifies many of the game’s frustrations, leaving you free to explore the planet without having to constantly wrestle with the interface. If you insist on playing it on mobile, then tablet is probably the best way forward - the interface issues get exacerbated by smaller screens.

Review: Nomads of the Fallen Star published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

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livesincerely · 5 years ago

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[Bits & Bobs] it’s so easy (too easy) to love you

Here’s the latest progress report/update from my javid domestic!au, formerly known as The One Where It’s Domestic. It ended up having too much plot for the Tease Series, but I’m still in love with the idea. (And there will probably still be a smutty epilogue, lol)

00000

Davey’s just gotten out of class—literally just walked out the door—when his phone starts ringing.

“Davey,” Racetrack says the moment he answers, not even giving Davey time to say hello, “Can you swing by the apartment real quick?”

Davey sighs. “Are you locked out of the house again?”

There’s a guilty silence. Then, “Or maybe I just wanna see you, huh? You don’t know.”

“Racetrack.”

“Crutchie’s the one that lost the spare,” Racetrack capitulates immediately, there’s an indignant “Hey!” somewhere in the background, “and I left my keys in my locker ‘cause I thought Crutchie had his—”

There’s a scuffle of noise, then Crutchie’s voice breaks in, “—don’t listen to him Davey, I asked him before we even got on the subway if he had his keys and he said he did but he didn’t even check—”

“—well, I thought you had yours, didn’t I?—”

“—and he was twenty minutes late picking me up from band practice because he was too busy flirting with Spot Conlon to come help me carry my oboe—”

“—that was supposed to be a secret you little shit!”

“—you started it!”

Davey pulls the phone away from his ear as the other side of the line descends into a mess of indistinct yelling. He thinks about trying to get their attention, but he decides to just start heading towards the apartment, muting the call while he waits them out—they’ll remember him eventually.

In the meantime, Davey sends a quick text:

Race and Crutchie locked themselves out of the house again

He’s not expecting a response, but Jack must be in-between projects because he gets one almost immediately.

jc again?

And you’re going to have to get a new spare made

fuck okay i’ll take care of it. are you heading over?

I’m walking there now

ur the light of my life dave

Davey can’t help but smile at this, a soft feeling fluttering in his chest. Before he can write back, Jack sends a second text:

how did the ochem midterm go?

I feel good about it! Def did better than I thought I would!

duh youve been living in the library all week ofc ur gonna do great. ill swing by the grocery on the way home, pick up some ice cream to celebrate. do we need anything else while im there?

Get a bell pepper and some tomato paste, I’m going to make spaghetti for dinner. And we need laundry detergent.

fuck yes im starving. can we do garlic bread too?

Get home on time and we’ll see.

you drive a hard bargain sir. kerian owes me a favor so ill make him stay late. ill be home in a couple hours

Grinning, Davey goes to respond but is distracted by a tinny, muffled sound emanating from his phone’s speakers. He unmutes the call and lifts his phone back to his ear.

“Davey?” Crutchie says hesitantly, and it sounds like he might’ve been calling Davey’s name for a while. They must’ve put him on speaker because he can still hear Race grumbling nearby. “Are you still there?”

“I’m still here,” Davey confirms, feeling a little guilty for forgetting about them, even though they forgot him first.

“So are ya comin’ or what?” Racetrack asks, ever impatient, “because I’m roasting out here.”

“Well, I was thinking about leaving you to ruminate on your poor life choices,” Davey responds dryly, “but I guess I can come let you in, since you asked so nicely.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Crutchie says.

“Hurry, will ya? Much longer and I’m gonna get heatstroke and die,” Racetrack calls.

Davey rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Race.”

00000

Davey starts rifling through the bags almost before Jack can finish putting them down. “Did you get the—?”

“I got the tomato paste,” Jack says, pulling out a gallon of ice cream and sticking it in the freezer. “I also got some more of that fancy cheese you like so much, even though it costs half the grocery budget.”

“It balances the dish,” Davey insists around an armful of vegetables, “the salt cuts through the richness of the sauce.” He makes quick work of washing a green pepper and peeling an onion, then starts dicing both into small, neat pieces.

“All I know is, the shredded stuff works just as well and it doesn’t cost a fortune.”

“Watch your mouth, Kelly,” Davey says, wagging his knife at Jack teasingly, “smartasses don’t get dinner.”

“That so?” Jack asks with a grin. “Then why the hell are we still feeding Racetrack?”

“I heard that,” Race grumbles from the kitchen table.

“Yeah, you were supposed to,” Jack says, moving over to Racetrack and slinging an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a side hug. Race bats at Jack’s hand but makes no real attempt to get away. Then Jack says, “So, I hear you and your brother lost another set of keys.”

Race gives Davey a look of the deepest betrayal. “You told Jack?”

“Of course he did,” Jack says. “Someone’s gonna have to get new ones made, and it sure ain’t gonna be either half of the dynamic duo.”

“Crutchie lost the spare,” Race says, throwing Crutchie under the bus while he’s not in the room to defend himself. “And I didn’t lose my keys, I just left them in my locker.”

“Uh huh, save it for the judge,” Jack responds, ruffling Race’s hair. “Just know if I end up having to change the deadbolt, it’s coming outta your subway money.”

“Jacky, leave Racetrack alone,” Davey comments mildly over Racetrack’s spluttering protests. “He needs to work on that paper and you’re distracting him.”

“Yeah, Jack,” Race repeats, a little smug. “You’re distracting me.”

Davey turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised. Racetrack quickly busies himself with his homework.

Davey goes back to the stove-top, adding the chopped vegetables to the ground beef that’s browning in a pan. He feels more than hears Jack sidle up behind him: the familiar weight of his gaze, the solid presence at his back. He stands there quietly, leaning against the counter-top and just watching Davey cook; unbothered, Davey lets him be for the moment and moves toward the pantry. With a bit of searching he unearths a can of tomatoes, then adds it and the tomato paste to the sauce pan and turns it down to a simmer.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Davey says, “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me with this?” glancing over his shoulder at Jack, a mock challenge. “You know there’s no loitering in my kitchen.”

“Well, I’m nothin’ if notta law abidin’ citizen,” Jack drawls in answer, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He rolls up his shirt sleeves, exposing the long, muscular line of his forearms, and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. “Where do you want me?”

Davey licks his lips. “Think you can handle boiling the pasta?”

...

“I’ve got to head back out,” Jack says. “Johnson’s got me working a night shoot and I have to be downtown by 9.”

“How long is the session?” Davey asks.

“We’re scheduled for five hours, but we might get to wrap it up early if everything goes well.” Jack’s hand brushes against the small of Davey’s back and they trade spots again, Davey stepping back up to the stovetop and Jack taking his place at the cutting board.

“Are ya spending the night or are ya headin’ back to your place?”

“Depends on how much help Racetrack needs with his history paper,” Davey replies. “We might be at it a while.”

Jack huffs out a laugh. “Well, if you do spend the night, go ahead and take the bed. The extra blankets are in the usual place.”

00000

Davey notices the time and frowns. “Jack,” he calls, “it’s already 7:30. If you don’t leave soon you’re gonna be late for work.”

There’s a clamor of noise from down the hall, then Jack appears, freshly showered and fumbling to put on his socks and button his work shirt at the same time.

“Fuck, Mr. Johnson is gonna kill me,” Jack grumbles. He pats down his pockets, then groans. “Christ, has anyone seen my—”

“Your wallet and keys are on the counter by the microwave,” Davey says. “And take a jacket, it’s supposed to rain later.”

…

“Jack—”

“And Dave cooked, so you shitheads better do the dishes, get me?”

“Jack, you’re gonna be late,” Davey cuts in firmly, holding out Jack’s jacket for him.

“Alright, I’m going,” Jack says, shrugging it on, and he finally starts making moves towards the door.

He gives Crutchie one last pat on the shoulder and cuffs Racetrack on the back of the head in a slightly rougher, but no less affectionate goodbye, which is per usual. Then he turns to Davey, tips his chin up, and kisses him right on the mouth, short and sweet.

“Lock the door behind me and don’t forget to—” Jack stops mid-sentence, then turns bright red.

“Um,” says Crutchie.

“Holy shit,” says Racetrack.

Jack’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Finally, he sputters out, “I u-uh — I-I d-didn’t mean—“

Davey doesn’t respond. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to—he’s frozen in place, his mind a sudden wash of static. For a moment, they just look at each other. Then Jack blurts, “gottagoseeyoulaterbye” and bolts out the front door.

Davey’s not sure how long he stands there, staring blankly into space, utterly dumbfounded.

“Davey?” Crutchie asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

There’s a horrible, strangled, choking noise. A split second later, Davey realizes it’s coming from him.

#newsies #newsies fic #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #formerly known as #the one where it's domestic #bits & bobs #*editor's note #*the writing desk #im really happy with how this is turning out #the beginning and end are almost the same just with more polish #the middle is all new #ive got a lot of other bits written but this is whats fit for public consumption #the full fic is coming soon #or at least chapter one #stay tuned

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