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noneorother · 9 months ago

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What do Shax and a 30-year-old Sandman comic have in common? Puns. The answer is always puns.

While I've recently revealed Shax does actually know how to spell, (she's just really old), the "angle" message Shax throws through the window to demand the "angel" one was a little trickier, because it's not Middle English, or even Old French, it's probably the oldest pun in Good Omens... it's latin.

Good Omens Season 2, Episode 5, 2023

Fortunately, a time travelling Neil Gaiman left answers for us in his 1995 Sandman special "Sandman midnight theatre." See for yourself.

Sandman Midnight Theatre, Neil Gaiman, Matt Wagner, Teddy Kristiansen, 1995

"Still, they have some illuminated manuscripts in their library which throw fascinating light on early church history. "Not angels, but angles" eh? I've been angling for permission to browse through their manuscript collection for yonks."

Appropriate for an English reverend to be curious about "Angels and not Angles". It's THE earliest christian pun, attributed to Pope Gregory the Great in the 6th century CE.

Oxford reference essential quotations

It comes from a historical account of the pope walking through a market in Rome, and seeing some exotic slave children (i.e. fair hair and blue eyes, and light skin) from what is now the England, and asking where they were from. The master replied that they were "Angles" (Angli in latin) and the pope declared them to be "Angels" (Angeli) instead, which, in latin at that time would have been a pun. This history from Bede actually influenced a lot of the christian world, so we could conceivably make the point that fair blonde and blue eyed angels comes from the idea that they looked liked the English (who were not christian, but pagan at the time of being newly conquered). Aziraphale's looks in the originsl Good Omens are probably a direct result of the lineage in art of this 1,500 year old pun.

Depictions of angels, 1100 years apart Which raises the question: if Shax is asking for the Angel Gabriel with her note, the pun doesn't make any fucking sense.

Jon Hamm plays Gabriel as an "American", specifically not English like the rest of the cast. He does have blue eyes, but as far as Shax is concerned, Gabriel's eyes are violet, not really a human colour. Shax could just actually be stupid (I guess?) and not realize that in modern English that constitutes a mistake (boring), or that Americans succeeded in 1776 (hilarious). But here's a quirkier theory: Shax knows what she's talking about, and she's gunning for Maggie. If you look really closely, demons show up and start hanging around the street earlier in the ball than you would guess. Once a fair number have amassed, they stay waiting for Shax to lead them. However, even though she hasn't shown up yet, they eagerly chase Maggie down the street from her shop. They're only stopped by Crowley, and Maggie gets safely into the ball.

Once inside, she has quite a stunning change of costume, highlighting her blonde hair and blue eyes:

There's so much more evidence to suggest that Maggie isn't really a normal human, but this post is long enough. What I will say is that it's subtle, but once the demon attack really gets going (no thanks to Maggie), Shax and the other demons never look for Jim once, even when he leaves the mezzanine. They concentrate all their efforts on Aziraphale, Maggie and Nina, and never mention Gabriel again.

While Maggie is a Scottish name, and she clearly has some links to Scotland if a random pub in Edinburgh is buying records from her in Soho, she does have a distinctly English accent, and lest we forget...

———————————————

thanks as always to @embracing-the-ineffable and @thebluestgreen for the tasty links and sounding board.

#good omens meta #good omens 2 #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season two #good omens season 2 #good omens #go2 #good omens prime #nina and maggie #anthony j crowley #jimbriel #crowley x aziraphale

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yunalinwrites · 9 months ago

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saved by the bell (sneak peek) | fushiguro toji x reader

summary: fushiguro toji never makes first moves--until he happens to meet the teacher of the son he hasn't seen in years.

strangers -> fwb -> lovers

takes place in 2006 around the star plasma vessel/hidden inventory/premature death arc; megumi is a first grader

about reader: female, around 30 or older, teacher, has a soft spot for megumi, speaks kind of formally, has daddy issues

warnings: none rlly rn, toji's kind of an ass

notes: not sure how many chapters this'll be total but this is only the beginning of the first chapter; currently working on the third. also familymart is a japanese convenience store chain

hope u like!

He'd only just stepped out of the FamilyMart, been on the street for all of two seconds before he heard the call of his name.

"Fushiguro?"

It was tempting, given the desperation in the repeated shouts, but he didn't bother looking towards their source. It's not like he really recognized the voice, and he sure as hell wouldn't recognize her face; he made it a point to never look them in the eye.

"Fushiguro?"

It was starting to become irritating, though. It was nasal, kind of sounded like the one from last week... No, a broad like that would know better; she played the same games he did. So, maybe the one from last night? Yeah... Didn't seem like she knew how to keep her strings to herself.

"Fushiguro!"

Well, whoever it was, she was only getting closer. The calls were getting louder, and so was the splash of her heels against the wet concrete. Realizing this, he shut his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose, letting the rain run down his dark hair, over the scar on his lip, and into his mouth as he opened it and whipped his head around in annoyance.

"Thought I told you not to--"

"Sorry, excuse me!"

You shoved past him, catching his widened eyes with yours for but a moment before continuing to run frantically and nearly slipping when you came to a halt and crouched down.

"Fushiguro!" you exclaimed, adjusting your umbrella to accommodate the little boy. "There you are. I told you not to run off like that!"

The boy kept a fixed gaze ahead of him, only interrupting it to wipe his eyes as the rain dripped into them, his usually spiky black bedhead weighed down completely against his face.

"Where on earth did you go?" you asked, examining him for clues.

"There's a monster," he replied plainly.

Finding nothing of note, you checked your watch with one hand and used the other to hastily grab his, barely registering his claim.

"Well, there certainly aren't any monsters on the bus. Not to mention, it's warm and dry. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Your phone vibrated in your coat pocket with a wave of texts--the faculty group chat, you figured--as you moved to obstruct his view with a smile. "Your classmates are wondering where you went."

Still unfazed, he tugged on your blouse and pointed. "Can't you see it?"

You didn't really have time to humor him--the incessant pings now replaced by your melodic ringtone--but still, your eyes followed the end of his little pointer finger, looking hard for a monster but finding only a man.

You scanned the sight as much as the umbrella would let you, the spokes ending just below his eyes. There wasn't any "big purple worm" that you could see, like the boy was mumbling on about, but you weren't really listening; what you were looking at at the moment didn't make you feel much safer--a bulky, brick wall-like frame hidden behind a black T-shirt and gray sweats, a fist clenched tightly around the handle of a milk jug, and, most notably, a rugged scar running perpendicular to scowling lips.

Quickly, you pushed the boy's hand down, not even thinking to correct his rude gesture as your voice darkened, "Come on, we need to go."

You stood up from your crouch, pulling the boy along with urgency and speeding up as you passed the stranger, the umbrella angled so it sheltered the boy and covered your face.

When he was sure you were gone for good, all he could do was look down at his clenched fist. All he could do was look at the milk jug it held, and think about what just happened, how comical it was.

He'd only just stepped out of the FamilyMart, been on the street for all of two seconds before he heard the call of his name--his son's name--for the first time in three years.

***

plz follow for more! hopefully i can post the rest soon :)

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #fanfic #my writing #writing #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader

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inseasofgreen · 1 month ago

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Can I get and info dump on Sciosa? What if anything inspired you to create her?

yes, always yes.

Sciosa's name actually came from an old mary sue character of mine from middle school, though the character we know now as Sciosa is are from that character. The OG was a whiny crybaby who couldn't do jack shit to save herself and relied on a toxic lover to do everything for her (ew). Sciosa now is borderline over powered and is a very complex and flawed character.

I've said this before but Sciosa can smite a city from existence, but that's not what makes her interesting. It's what got her to that point that she would even consider it and why she would/wouldn't do it. (I use that example a lot when it's not her who is out there destroying cities lmao *eyes Zemorri*)

POTO's whole theme is power corrupts everyone who uses it, and having the mc be such a powerhouse makes it so fun to write. We follow her though 4 books and with each book the line between between "good" and "evil" grows thinner. She's not an antagonist and never will be, I wouldn't even say she's an anti-hero. She's just someone who has repeatedly had her patience and trust be tested by the gods, fate, and the very mortals she was put on nyrus to protect.

When I first created her, it was for a story that has since been scrapped but her role in that was actually very different. Zemorri was the hero and she was to act as a mentor to him and repent for the sins of her past life. She was very bitter and angry, and rarely had a filter on how she truly felt. That part hasn't really changed too much, though her anger doesn't really appear until POTD. Though she still doesn't have a filter, and if she does filter herself you best better worry.

Sciosa at her core is a young women who laments for a "normal" life. She did not ask to be the Dawn Star but she has accepted her fate to the best of her ability and tries to carry the burden with as much grace as she can. She's 30 at the start of POTO, but that's is so, sooo young for both Zaentri and being born into the bloodline of Duskinfall. Zaentri being half Zaentiraeal from her mother and the bloodline of Duskinfall having an extended life expectancy to help maintain the bloodline until the Dawn Star is born. Mentally she is about 18. Imagine asking an 18 year old to make sure ALL living things on earth are sheltered, with have enough food and water to survive until the Hells are defeated (which could be months or years) that there is enough kindling to keep fires lit as the sun will not rise until the demons are either killed or returned to the hells. On top of that she is expected to rally an army and aid the gods in their fight. Girl I'd be pissed off too, she should be at the club.

Oh and there's a lot that inspired her!! Ciri from the Witcher, Daenerys from ASOIAF and GOT (actually season 8 Dany got me curious of how much would it take to truly break a person to the point of pure destruction. Saying this with my full chest, I'm not mad she went crazy I'm mad it wasn't properly written but I digress) Honestly even a bit of Yen from the Witcher too ngl. There's a picture that I've shared before that was basically the birth of POTO because I wanted to write a scene of it but being me I can't just so one scene I had to do a whole series. Weirdly enough even Lunafreya gave me some inspiration for both Sciosa and the High Priestess' of Zenier. I'd say even a little bit of Zelda, though I haven't played any of the legend of Zelda games in a hot hot minute lol. Last one but it just occurred to me and made me laugh but I think at times she reminds me of Jesus? Bro tell me why so many of these people end up being killed... dany, lunafreya, jesus I swear to GOD Sciosa does not die LMAOOO

Oof okay. That was a lot. but thank you for the ask wyked!! I don't talk about her enough tbh, Zemorri kinda just steals the spot light a lot.

#ask #p: poto #oc: sciosa #juno write a short and sweet answer for one challenge failed #i guess you did want an info dump #okay don't feel too bad now

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stillwintering · 1 year ago

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All's Fair in Love and Politics (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: A modern AU set in the throes of a political campaign. Rhys is running for president. Feyre asks her estranged sister Nesta to join the campaign team. Nesta couldn't turn down a front-row seat to one of the most compelling political stories of the year: a promising upstart with a dream, running a long-shot campaign for president. Little does she know that she's going to have to work closely with Cassian, one of Rhys' top deputies, who infuriates her to no end.

Of course, Nesta and Cassian fall for each other despite themselves. There is drama and politics and idiots in love.

(Nessian focused but lots of Feysand to keep things interesting.)

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Nesta took a moment to consider the job offer.

"Well?" Feyre asked, her eyes hopeful. "What are you thinking?"

Nesta knew she couldn't refuse. It was a golden opportunity, too good to pass up. She weighed the pros and cons in her head. Joining the campaign would mean she worked for Rhys and Feyre. Nesta loved her sister, but their relationship had been strained since their father passed. Nesta hasn't been an active part of Feyre's life for years. She didn't know how to relate to Feyre as her sister, let alone as her boss. A wave of guilt hits her.

"I don't know," Nesta finally offered. "I'm flattered Rhys wants me as his communications director."

"But?" Feyre prompted.

Nesta picked up the porcelain cup and saucer in front of her, swirling her tea around. Professionally, this was the best offer she had in years. But personally, it was a minefield. She had never taken a liking to her brother-in-law. Rhys had been born with a silver spoon, practically political royalty -- too privileged, too arrogant. They tolerated each other, at best. She's not sure how well he will take it when she has to challenge him in order to do her job as his campaign's communication director. She wasn't going to be another Washington sycophant.

"Feyre, I --"

"We -- I need someone I trust on the campaign," Feyre offered. She chewed her lower lip. "Nesta, please. I don't think we can do this without you."

Nesta hesitated. "I'm just not sure if we should," she gestured between them, "make things more complicated."

"Nesta, I haven't seen you for 2 years," Feyre said softly. "I know things aren't... great between us. But we both know you are the right person -- the best person for this job. Why do you find it so hard to believe that I trust you?"

Nesta winced. She looked at her little sister, once so small and doe-eyed, now radiating power. She nodded, back straightening, and looked away.

"When do you need me to start?"

---

Rhysand Starborn was running for president. He is entering the race as the long-shot candidate: a young 3-term congressman, still green. But the Starborn name held sway. Rhys had grown up part of a political dynasty: 2 senators, 3 governors, and at least 2 Secretaries of State. Rhys' father had served over 30 years in the Senate and had been one of the most influential power brokers on Capitol Hill.

Rhys had fought against his family's expectations all his life. His father, while beloved by the public, had been a cruel man in private. Rhys understood, better than most, the price politics exacted on one's soul and saw firsthand how his own father traded his decency for power.

His father died many years ago, from a long illness that he hid from his constituents until the end. Never show any weakness -- that was one of his father's lessons. Rhys had been a disappointment, too soft, showed too much weakness. His father died full of disdain for his only son.

"For those of us climbing to the top of the food chain, there can be no mercy," Rhys can still hear his father say. "There is but one rule: hunt or be hunted."

Rhys was running for president. Because he has a dream for the country. Because his father's ghost still weighed on him. Because Rhys wanted to be a better man, a better husband, a better father. But not because of power, never just for power. Rhys tells himself.

---

It took Nesta two weeks to find an apartment in Washington DC, a small one-bedroom in a renovated Art Deco building. The move was easy enough. Nesta had never put down roots, opting to live wherever the story she was writing was going to take her.

Nesta worked as a writer, reporter, and political commentator. Her writing was witty and sharp -- always discerning. She had a way of reading people, seeing through everyone's masks and lies. She can spend 10 minutes with someone in a room and know exactly what made them tick, and what buttons to push. It was a skill that was both a blessing and a liability.

Last year, Nesta wrote a searing profile of the British Prime Minister for The Economist that was credited for torpedoing his re-election campaign. She had spent a week shadowing and interviewing him and by the end, saw him exactly for the power-hungry viper he was. She had made a name for herself as a political truth-teller, always holding power to account. Nesta was really good at her job.

Her years of reporting on and writing about politics have made her cynical of politicians. In journalism school, everyone has been taught Lord Acton's axiom: all power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. Nesta believed that when she first started out, at her first reporting job, but after all these years, she doesn't believe it's always true anymore. Power doesn't always corrupt. Power can cleanse.

Now, what Nesta believes is always true about power is that power reveals.

Nesta waits by the door of Starborn's congressional office. It was her first day on the Starborn campaign. She was eager to find out what power would finally reveal about Rhysand.

---

Feyre's face lit up when she spied Nesta by the door.

"Let me introduce you to the team!" Feyre gestured for her to come inside.

The office was bigger than Nesta expected. Most junior congressmen were relegated to the cramped basement offices of the House office buildings along Independence Avenue. Space was always scarce on Capitol Hill. The size and location of Rhys' office indicated that he had some influence in the House, no doubt helped by his family connections.

Nesta surveyed the front room, which had several rows of desks for the half dozen staffers buzzing about -- no windows. In the back, a pair of French doors open to a decent-sized office with an imposing desk in front of a tall window. Several people stood around Rhys, leaning against his desk, sitting by the chairs flanked on either side. They were deep in conversation when she stepped inside.

Rhys stood up from his seat behind the desk to greet her. "Nesta," he held out his hand to shake hers. "It's good to see you again. Thank you for joining us."

Nesta took his hand and noted the firm squeeze he gave her. "Rhys," she said, pointedly not returning the welcoming smile he flashed her.

Rhys was devastatingly handsome: striking violet eyes and a face that was not easily forgotten. He had an effortless grace about him -- something Nesta knew took other politicians years on the campaign trail to hone and perfect -- but Rhys welded his charm like it was second nature. It put Nesta on edge, made her apprehensive.

If Rhys noticed Nesta's wariness in his presence, he didn't let it show. He turned to a beautiful petite woman standing next to him and said, "This is Amren, my campaign manager."

Amren gave Nesta a perfunctory handshake, her sleek black bob swayed with her movements. Her eyes were silver and cold. Nesta liked Amren immediately.

The two men sitting in the pair of chairs flanking Rhys' desk both stood. Nesta was startled by their height and size as they rose. They must both be over 6'2", all rippling muscles underneath their suits. They looked more like bodyguards than political operatives.

"Azriel," the man on the right introduced himself, extending his hand. He was classically beautiful: sharp jawlines and high cheekbones. If she didn't know better, Nesta would have guessed that he was a runway model for Paris Fashion Week.

"Nesta," she introduced herself again and took his hand. She tried to not react to the long deep scars that she felt and saw across his hands, up his forearms, and disappearing beneath his shirtsleeve. She knew those scars had a story to tell.

"Nesta Archeron," the second man addressed her, a smirk in his voice. "The Prime Minister slayer."

Nesta stiffened and met his gaze. A pair of golden hazel eyes held her. His hand slipped around hers, firm and warm. Nesta's breath caught.

"This is Cassian," Feyre cut in. She rolled her eyes at him.

His eyes seemed to pin Nesta in her place. "I'm a big fan. The hit piece you wrote about the President's last Supreme Court nominee was brilliant. I can't believe you got a hold of his tax returns."

Hit piece! Nesta's temper flared. She pulled her hand away. "He was corrupt," her voice was clipped.

Cassian chuckled -- it was a warm, affectionate sound. "Rhys, you got to look out for this one," he said, turning towards the desk.

Nesta had rarely ever been rendered speechless. When he looked back at her again with those golden hazel eyes, she met them boldly and assessed him.

There was something entirely wild, but still very handsome about Cassian. His features were more rugged, weather-worn, like the north face of a mountain -- a scar notched one of his eyebrows, his skin golden brown. He had long dark hair that he had pulled into a knot, almost bordering on inappropriate for otherwise stuffy and conservative Capitol Hill fashion. Something about Cassian both thrilled and disturbed her.

"Welcome to the Starborn presidential campaign," Feyre said, wrapping up their introductions. Her voice pulled Nesta's attention away from Cassian.

"Feyre, darling," Rhys turned towards her, his eyes softening. "Are you sure you want to do this? This is the last exit before our lives change forever."

Feyre entwined their fingers together, giving her husband a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, darling. I am sure."

Amren smiled, taking her cue to begin, and then nodded toward Nesta. "Tell me, girl, what do you know about the Iowa caucuses?"

#fanfic #nesta x cassian #acotar #a court of silver flames #cassian #nesta #nessian #nesta archeron #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand #all's fair in love and politics #acotar fanfiction

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eyes-of-rock · 15 days ago

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Gambling With The Heart

Chapter Two

Eric Singer X OC

A/N: I would love to have linked that first chapter, but Tumblr is being a dick, so that it won't let me. Anyway, please enjoy the second chapter of this series.

Eric’s POV

I'm still not sure how that worked for me. I figured there was no way anyone that pretty and young would entertain a conversation with me. I'm not twenty-five anymore and haven't been for a long time. I have to be three times her age.

Then I fumbled, starting that conversation pretty bad. I pointed out the watch as a last resort because I couldn't think of anything else to say. I figured it must have had some kind of story. Not every day do you see a nice watch like that on the wrist of a girl like her. It’s a Tag Heuer Carrera chronograph, in black with rose gold. It’s a sexy watch, and it looks good on her wrist.

The first thing that came to mind was that her rich boyfriend had bought it for her. She'd tell me that, and I’d return to the table and say I told you so. Only that didn't happen, and the story was much more interesting.

It turns out that she won it in a poker game and had no idea that it was worth around $10,000.

Not every day you meet a beautiful woman who won a watch in a poker game and is from Canada.

Vegas has its fair share of characters, but I've never met anyone who's caught me off guard that much. I sure wasn't expecting that when I walked up to her.

I also wasn't expecting her actually to agree to see me again. She is new to town and doesn't know anyone; that could be why she said yes, but even if it is, I'll take it. I was sure I would get shot down, but she said yes and now I have her number.

I sound like a teenager, not a sixty-six-year-old man. Teenage Eric wasn't pulling girls that hot, though. He barely pulled any. I guess that's what teenage me and sixty-six-year-old me have in common. I figured I'd be married by now. Life had other plans.

I picked up the piece of paper with her number written on it. She signed it with her name. Jewel. Next to it, she put a little diamond. It's a cute touch. I wonder if that's her favourite card suit? I'll have to ask her.

She hasn't left my mind since I met her earlier. It’s been a while since I met anyone who did that to me. I want to call her. I don't want to come on too strong, though I don't want to come off as uninterested. I'm interested. I don't know if she's interested in me, but I hope she is. Jewel agreed to see me again, so that has to be a good sign, right?

“What do you think, buddy?” I ask, looking at Ash, who just jumped on my lap.

“Should I call her?”

I give him a scratch behind the ear, and he makes a little noise. I'll take that as a yes, even if it was probably because I gave him a scratch.

I take my glasses off my cluttered coffee table and put them on to see the phone screen. The print on these things is so small. Then I dial her number from the piece of paper. I just hope she picks up.

It rings once. Then again.

“Hello?” I hear her voice answer.

“Hey, Jewel, it’s Eric Singer,” I tell her.

“Oh hey, Eric.” She says, sounding happy to hear from me, which makes me feel good about this decision.

“I was wondering if you were free tomorrow night and if you wanted to go out for dinner.” I shot my shot.

“I’d love to, but I work tomorrow night.” He tells me, sounding disappointed.

“What about tonight?” She suggests, “Unless you already have plans.”

“No, I'm good with tonight,” I say.

The sooner, the better.

I glance at the time on my watch. It's 3:30 now. I should give us time to get ready and for me to find a good place to take her.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” I tell her.

“Okay, sounds great.” She replies, “I’ll send you my address because I can't remember it off the top of my head.”

I laugh at that; we've been there when we moved to a new place and can't remember our address.

“No problem; I'm looking forward to seeing you later.” Fuck it. I might as well be truthful.

“I’m looking forward to it too.” Jewel replies, “I'll see you at seven.”

“See you then,” I say, hanging up the phone.

Well, that worked out better than I could have imagined.

——————————————————

Jewel’s POV

I can't believe I went from alone to hanging out with Eric Singer within 24 hours. It feels unreal. Yet it’s reality. I'm freaking out a bit. I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of him. He’s him, and I'm me. Yet he asked me to go out for dinner. I am now freaking out a little.

I have no idea what to wear. I haven't been out to dinner with anyone in so long. I've never been out to dinner with anyone like Eric before. I also have no idea where he's taking me. I don't want to be overdressed or underdressed.

I also don't want to look like a sugar baby. After all, he is an older man, and I am a younger woman; this is Vegas. He looks great for his age, but that age gap isn't going to disappear. I've seen lots of that. That's far from my intentions here. I could never do that. I'd feel very guilty. I like making my own money.

I sigh.

Whenever I’m freaking out, there is one person I call my sister Victoria. She always knows what to do. Even though I'm unsure if I want to get her involved, I know she’ll help.

I take out my phone and FaceTime with her.

“Oh look, Mark, it's Jewel! My long lost sister!” She answers dramatically, her fiance Mark sitting next to her.

“Nice to see you too, Victoria.” I laugh, rolling my eyes, “How's it going, Mark?”

“You know the usual, how are you doing? How's Vegas?” Mark asks; I love my soon-to-be brother-in-law. He's perfect for Victoria and like a brother to me already.

“Well, that's why I'm calling,” I tell them, “I’m going out to dinner with someone, and I don't know what to wear.”

“Oh, who?” My sister asks, looking intrigued.

“Eric Singer from KISS,” I tell her, awaiting the judgment.

“THE KISS DRUMMER?!” Mark gasps in shock; he's a big fan of KISS.

I love KISS, but not nearly as much as Mark. They are his all-time favourite band, and he has an extensive collection. So I know his sister-in-law met one of them and is going to dinner with one, so I must have him on cloud nine.

“YOU’RE HAVING DINNER WITH THE CATMAN?!”

“Yes.” I can't help but laugh at Mark’s reaction.

“You’ve been in Vegas two weeks and already have a date with a rockstar.” My sister says, looking impressed.

“What does he look like, Mark?” Vic asks as Mark takes out his phone to do a Google search.

“There he is,” Mark says, showing Vic a photo, hopefully a good one of Eric. Not that bad ones exist.

“For someone in his sixties, he looks pretty good,” Victoria says approvingly.

“Look at you pulling rockstars.”

“I wouldn't say I pulled him.” I tell her, “This is just a dinner between two people; I don't know if it's a date.”

“You always do this, Jewel.” Victoria says, “He asked you out; it's a date. Let yourself have this.”

“Fine.” I sigh. Even if I'm not convinced, it's a nice thought. I would be lying if I said I didn't have a bit of a crush on this man.

He was easy to talk to and not pretentious or flaunting who he was; it was like I was talking to any guy. Not the drummer of one of the biggest bands in the world. It was nice.

I'm looking forward to more conversation later. He seems like a fascinating man with lots to say.

“Now, what should I wear?” I ask her to get back on the subject.

“Hmmm.” Victoria debates with herself.

“What about that leather skirt you wore to our engagement party?”

That is a great skirt. It's a vintage leather mini-skirt with a zipper up the front. It might be a little too sexy, though. I don't want to give off a slutty vibe. I don't see him as someone who'd be into that.

“Is it too sexy, though?” I asked, pulling out the skirt and looking it over.

“Jewel, it's the perfect amount of sexy.” Victoria says, “Just wear some tights if you're worried about showing too much legs.”

“Alight, I can do that,” I say, taking out my sheer black tights to go with it.

“Now for a top, how about….” I pause as I dig through my top dresser drawer for a top.

“This?” I asked, pulling out a simple silk tank top.

“Thats perfect.” Victoria smiles, “I’m so happy for you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this happy.”

“Thank you.” I smile back at her, and I am thrilled.

“Speaking of cats,” Mark says, holding up Shadow, my big fluffy black cat.

“Someone wants to say hello.”

“Oh, hello, my baby boy,” I say to my baby voice. I miss that cat so much.

I couldn't take him with me when I moved, so I left him with Mark and Victoria. I was living with them before I moved. He was my cat, but he also loves them. And know for a fact that they spoil him to death. Sometime, once I'm more settled, I’ll get another cat. I miss having one around.

“It’s pretty empty around here without you.” My sister says, sounding sad. I know she misses me, and I miss her too.

“I know, I miss having you guys around too,” I tell her, “Soon you'll be married, and then I'm sure you’ll find a way to fill that empty room.”

“I know, I know.” Victoria says, “But I just miss my little sister.”

“She misses you too.” I do miss them. I don't know if I could have done this without the ability to contact them and see them. Thank god for modern technology.

“But I'm also happy things seem to work well for you.” Victoria continues, “You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Vic.” I smile.

“You know, if this works out, I could have a member of KISS at my wedding.” Mark fanboys, I just sigh and shake my head.

“If this goes well, I never let him meet you.” I tease, “Nothing could scare this man off more than you jizzing your pants over him being in KISS.”

“Hey.” Mark tries to protest.

“Come on, sweetie, she has a point. You are like the biggest fan.” Victoria laughs, and Mark can't argue with that.

“Oh yeah, you’ll freak out over this.”

When I met Eric, I suddenly remembered he was having dinner with Bruce Kulick. So, I also saw Bruce Kulick, who happens to be our favourite KISS guitar player. I know Mark’s going to flip hearing about this.

“Guess who Eric was having dinner with when I met him.”

“Who?” Mark asks excitedly.

“Bruce Kulick,” I tell him.

“So far, you've met two KISS members?!” Mark says absolutely beside himself, “You’re living the dream.”

I just laugh at that.

“Well, I should probably get going,” I tell them, looking at my watch. The watch I now know is worth $10,000, thanks to Eric.

“Okay, you have fun.” Victoria says, “I love you.”

“I love you guys too. Talk to you soon.” I reply before we hang up.

I hope this dinner goes well.

——————————————————

Eric’s POV

I take a deep breath and knock on Jewel’s door. I'm nervous. I have no idea why. I've taken girls out to dinner before. It’s been a while. I will admit that, but it's not like it's the first time. Usually, it ends badly, though. I hope it doesn't end that way with her.

The door opens, and there Jewel stands. She looks gorgeous. She's wearing a short leather skirt that fits her like a glove. She’s also wearing a silky tank top that shows off the right amount of cleavage to drive a guy wild. Keep it together, Eric.

You don't want to be the creepy date staring at her boobs all night, even if they do look good in that top. Enough of that; be respectful. Don't make it awkward.

“Hi.” She smiles when she sees me, grabbing her purse off the table in her entranceway. Hers is a real table, unlike mine, a drum stool.

“You look gorgeous,” I tell her as she steps out and locks her door.

“Thank you.” She smiles sweetly at me, “You look good too.”

Not as good as her.

“Thank you, I tried my best,” I tell her, “Let’s go.”

“Alright, lead the way.” She tells me as I walk back to my car.

Eric, you can't mess one up. I remind myself. This is a rare chance you can't fuck up.

#eric singer fanfiction #Eric Singer X OC #kiss band fanfiction #The bitchs fanfiction

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loquaciousquark · 10 months ago

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15, 24, 30 for the Tav asks?

15. What motivates your Tav to either embrace or resist the tadpole?

She...well, she never quite embraces it, but she does lean into its power at first! While the idea of having a leech in her brain is horrifying, and she's deathly afraid of the pain of ceremorphosis, she's also extremely used to a narrow view of her own survival. She hasn't looked more than a day or two down the road in over a decade, so it's very much a "if this helps me survive this moment right now, I'll do it happily and deal with the fallout later" thing. She's also half-convinced the prism will fail and the worm will take her any moment regardless, so why not snatch up what she can get? She's going to die any moment anyway; might as well go out knowing she did everything she could to stay alive beforehand.

However, after Myrkul & the early stuff in Act 3, she suddenly starts wondering if they might be able to get rid of these things after all. If she might actually have some kind of future possible after the Absolute and Cazador and everything else. If that's really on the table, she wants to be present for it and not a dribbling husk, so she stops feeding the parasite. She does use what she's got, though, and post-game she does faintly miss exploding people with her mind.

24. What first impression does your Tav give off to strangers?

When she's just been orphaned, she's one of those big dewy-eyed tearful kids they use in those horrible fundraising Sarah McLachlan ads. That doesn't last long, however, as she learns how to avoid being noticed in the first place. If she's actually seen, she's usually just looking hunted and desperate as she tries to extricate herself.

Post-game, once she's become better at interacting with speech and honesty and open exchange of ideas rather than petty theft, I think she's much more comfortable being seen in day-to-day life and going to social events where part of the goal is to be perceived. As she and Astarion travel around the continent, I think they play games like "let's pretend to be minor royalty in this new city and see how many balls we can get invited to before they throw us out."

She was brought up well before her parents died, so she's not going to make major crass faux-pas; instead, she's friendly and conversational, but she always has a touch of distance in her eyes. An invisible wall, a little - disdain isn't quite the right word, but a little - impersonal arrogance, maybe. She's with you, but she's not one of you - she's seen things you can't dream of, and she doesn't really mind if you feel it. I think it's more pronounced the more expensive the society is, for whatever that's worth. She certainly feels more at home in the gutter, even if she'd die before going back there again.

30. What are your Tav’s intentions/goals after the end of the game?

Get Astarion his ring, first and foremost. Once that's settled, they travel everywhere they can get passage. They've both been trapped in Baldur's Gate for so long, even if their raw years are disparately dispensed, and she wants to see everything the world's been hiding from her! The Underdark, the City of Splendors, Calimshan deserts, the Moonshae Isles, Evermeet, Marsember (the City of Spices! it sounds so beautiful until they get there and it's all misty swamp and haunted bogs), Cormyr - beaches! (which they both hate because it's TOO SUNNY and TOO SANDY) - basically anywhere they can get a portal or a road to. They're not hoofing through the woods anymore if they can help it.

I do think Tav splits the money among the companions left behind (so no shares to Wyll, Karlach, or Lae'zel directly, though she takes out some accounts at the Counting House for them and starts accruing interest in their names), and she uses her connections with the Counting House & the Thieves' Guild to start building some portfolios of her own. She never wants to be in a place where she has to think about money ever again. (I think she carries letters back and forth from Wyll to his dad, & Wyll gets his dad to get her in touch with one of the city's trustworthy financiers to help her get all this started.)

Between all that they visit Lae'zel in the Astral Sea for like a week, and when they come back both of them are like, "WELL that was fun let's never do THAT again," but they do visit Karlach and Wyll in Avernus quite often! I think they bully Helsik into opening the portal for them the first several times, but they don't like being dependent on her or the location, so they steal a very hefty supply of the rare materials (esp. the infernal marble) and a copy of the exact rites, along with contact info for more supplies in future, and they repurpose one of the portals in the House of Hope to open to Gale's tower in Waterdeep. (I don't think they tell him ahead of time.)

At some point they figure out how to extend Tav's life, but that's way down the road. Also I think she starts a Thieves' Guild with the tiefling kids that's secretly an orphanage/pipeline into gainful employment.

#quark replies #springacres #tavish gale #tav meme #bless you thank you #quark plays bg3

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kinetic-elaboration · 1 year ago

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September 15: Braven, Second Time

I am really tired, so tired I legit fell asleep on my couch for a short period of time, but nevertheless I had the desire to write some more of the loftverse before bed. I don't even know. Like, yes, if I was going to write it probably should have been on Troped but... I don't have the brain for that. I just don't. I also haven't done anything else in a while and I think I need some variety.

This does not take place IN the loft but it's part of the same universe.

Braven, ~900 words, written in about 30-35 minutes, warnings for just a little bit of explicit content

Previous installments on the tag "loftverse"

The second time they sleep together, Raven tells him, "You're a romantic, aren't you?" out of nowhere into a slow-widening gray well of silence, and he almost has to laugh. She's sitting on top of him, and he'd been staring up at her tits, and the shape of her collar bone and the flow of her hair over her shoulders and her silhouette in the dreary winter gloom. But mostly her tits.

"What?" she asks, biting back a smile that's only an answer to his smile, pushing a confused half-bubble of laughter down. Slowly it softens. She touches his nose, the tip of her finger lingering there, then sliding down to bump against his lips. "I've figured that out about you," she says.

The first time was a one-off, the sort of thing good friends just don't discuss, but it opened the door to something that might become habit. He learned what she looked like naked because she brought him to her bedroom once and took her shirt off without warning--impatient as always, skipping over what she did not know how to do by using short cuts and fast tracks--knew the part of his brain that would say bad idea bad idea would be drowned out and shunted aside. And she was right. That was back in the fall after her boyfriend got caught cheating. Seems a lifetime ago now but she's not yet told him if she's over it, if she ever will be.

This one is on him. It's different in ways he can start to name, can't quite pin down. Maybe just that he didn't initiate by immediately stripping.

She'd come over early with this idea they'd go out to breakfast but the temperature had fallen overnight, the sky clouding up and dropping and that heavy, expectant hush in the air, like a storm gathering itself, so they'd stayed inside and eaten the rest of his cereal, then played video games on his couch. The whistle of the wind and the rattle of his windows in the blow and gust of it sounded of winter. He yawned, for real, stretched up his arm and let it rest around her shoulders.

She looked at him like, am I dumb? Do you think I don't notice it?

He gave her a smile that other women would find charming.

But she slid in against his side as she beat his ass six out of ten, threw the controller on the coffee table after and then just turned her face so her nose was crushed in against his t-shirt. He squeezed her arm, gathered her up close and listened to her inhale, and on the rattling long exhale, he slid his hand beneath her shirt.

None of it meant anything except that he was horny and cold and he knew if Raven minded, she'd just shove him away. Tell him to get over himself and shut up.

Now she's talking about romance and he's thinking about her tits, and wondering if she always takes her hair down to fuck.

The question (you're a romantic, aren't you?) is idle and content and hazy with sex, the bedroom small and square and the hour uncertain. His bed, a queen that he doesn't really need, came with the place and barely fits in the room. Around it is a thin border of floor, around and beneath it wall to wall carpet in an ugly gray-green color that always looks dirty, even when it's not. He's been planning to move out of the place for over a year now but hasn't found anything better, and because it was only supposed to be temporary, he never really decorated much: just a single framed painting on the bare white walls, a gift, which he's hung up over the dresser in the corner of the room.

He has two windows, though. That's the best feature of the place: the natural light. Right now they have the overhead light on and the floor lamp by the bed too, because the late afternoon light is the gray-white tone of a storm that just won't break, hazed out and cold. Occasional thin wisps of snow slant by, sometimes. Nothing that will stick; nothing that will stay.

Bellamy can see the snow, and the wintry light just on the verge of tipping into twilight, through the window just behind Raven, the window she's half-framed in. His palms are sliding up and down her legs, steady and warm, and his feet are still tangled up in the sheets of his unmade bed. He's thinking about Raven awash in his sheets and how she'd look if he flipped her right over and landed her on his pillows, and how he'll probably do just that, when he actually wants to come.

For now she's barely moving, only riding him slowly. As she watches him, the smile fades from her face, and she tilts her head and traces the curve of his cheekbone, wafts her fingertips across the freckles over his nose.

"Romantic?" he asks. He means himself, what she'd said, but for a moment she frowns down at him, confused.

Then: "You want a nice girl who will take you home to her parents," she explains, slow and quiet.

He squeezes her leg, feels the strong muscles there, the softness of her skin.

"Why do you say that?"

She shrugs. He wonders if this is the last time, if he should be taking in every detail now, before he tips over an edge, before the storm breaks.

"It's just something," Raven says, "I see in you."

#the 100 #braven #rellamy #bellamy x raven #raven reyes #bellamy blake #mine #my writing #the year 2023 #2023: free write #loftverse

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werewolfnat · 2 months ago

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Hi sweetie! For the for the 🎬 ask box game:

2 7 8 10 11 19 30 31 34 38 39 42

hii, this got long quick so i'm hiding under the cut hehe.

2. What movie do you wish you could unwatch?

Yes, there's probably more than one but the one that comes to mind the most is The Haunting of Redding Hospital, i like my horror movies and i thought this was gonna be an interesting one, but it was just so ridiculously boring i was annoyed at myself for buying it. (also i just looked at the reviews for it online and some people gave it 5 stars and i'm just thinking we're we even watching the same movie?! because it was garbage, pure utter predictable garbage)

7. Name a movie you’re emotionally attached to?

You've probably heard me talk about it several times by now, but it's The Goonies, was introduced to it by my late aunt when I was a kid and i've just loved it ever since.

8. What’s your comfort film?

Howl's Moving Castle, actually you know what make that just studio ghibli in general.

10. Most recent movie you saw in theaters?

Errrrrm... it's been a hot minute, i think it was Avengers Endgame, i keep meaning to go see more but i never remember what's on or coming out lol

11. A genre you just can’t stand.

i'd say probably romance, that's not me saying i've never watched anything from genre, there's probably movies in that genre i've watched and do enjoy, but romance can't be the sole genre for me it's gotta be woven in with something else or be like a minor side note in said movie. that and i just don't understand the appeal of some of them?

19. Name a movie so bad it’s good.

ThanksKilling, yeah from the outset it's a shitty produced thanksgiving themed horror, but if you're not taking the shitty production seriously then it's fucking hilarious, just don't watch the sequal ThanksKilling 3, it's kinda boring in comparison and i almost fell asleep watching it, no actually thinking about it i think i did genuinely half fall asleep while watching it lol - for reference i watched both of these as a lets watch with achievement hunter so it probably seemed funnier at the time lol.

30. Are you looking forward to any upcoming releases?

Well, since i finally watched Beetlejuice for the first time this this year, i'm currently looking forward to Beetlejuice Beetlejuice and it's pretty much the only thing i know currently soon releasing that i would actually consider watching.

31. Do you remember the first movie you saw in theaters?

I can't remember if it was the first first movie i ever saw in theaters but the earliest i can remember is A Bug's Life.

34. Which film is the most visually beautiful?

There's loads but it's hard to narrow down, so i am again just gonna answer, majority of the studio ghibli movies lol

38. In your opinion what is the most overrated movie?

There's not many i would considered overrated tbh? but there is something i don't plan on watching but i kept seeing ads for that i would maybe consider overrated? so yeah i kept seeing ads for This Ends With Us on constant repeat over on YT a while back, and while i understand the reason why the story has and is being told, both in movie and book form, i don't understand why anyone would want to go see a movie masking itself as a romantic movie when it's main plot point is about a women in an abusive relationship?

39. In your opinion what is the most underrated movie?

I haven't seen it in forever but I'm gonna go with Creep, and no not the 2014 movie of the same name people are probably thinking of that's about a videographer recording the wishes of a dying man? (idk i haven't watched it but may do in the future). No i'm talking about the 2004 movie called Creep, i'll try not to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it and may wish to watch but it revolves around a women getting trapped in the London Underground after missing her train home but she soon discovers she's not alone yada yada yada. I'll say it's underrated because, to me at least, it literally gets overshadowed by the movie of the same name and i never see this version ever get talked about, and it got me thinking of another horror/comedy called Severance (again not to be confused by the tv show of the same name) which i also haven't seen in forever. Put basically i think the British horror genre in general might be the one that's being made underrated lol.

42. Show me a pic of your favorite movie poster.

I don't have any movie posters up anymore unfortunately, but then i also have no space to put them, i do have an avengers infinity war/endgame canvas my parents got me for xmas one year, i know they knew i liked marvel but i'm not entirely sure the thought that process through as my rooms walls are more or less all covered by shelves or furniture of some sort, i guess it's the thought that counted huh? but anyway, here's a pic of fluff investigating the giant thing that i can't actually have in my room due to space lol

(it's currently in the corner of my parents room lol)

🍿🎬 Send me a movie ask 🎬🍿

#ask games #asks

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synonymouswithanonymous · 8 months ago

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just for fun!

Thoughts, opinions, and a just for fun timeline. Google and a couple tumblr rabbit holes later....disclaimer lots of rumors with receipts for rumors.

I too find it weird that the same people talking about Johanne used to describe MK, Rikke, and Fanny the same exact way. Down to the same wording. Except they used to go after MK'S tattoos like they're a bad thing. People were awful about her, and the rest. Now Johanne and his family and friends are getting it too.

Now they act like a friendship, spanning 7 years, is something "more" bc he likes her posts. Lol I bet he likes a lot of people's/friends posts, guys and girls. Probably a lot of private accounts too bc a lot of his friends went private bc people kept posting his friends' videos and pics. I don't understand why he can't like any of the accounts he follows without it causing a stir. Lol liking a post isn't a big deal lol. People can be friends, it's not like he doesn't have TON of female friends lol. I doubt he's still pining for her, and probably hasn't for a long long time.

It's not like he hasn't dated since or before (Olivia who rejected him supposedly 2017).

And he's older now and probably has sown his wild oats and wants to settle down with the woman he loves (Johanne). And I think, personal opinion, that now he has someone who matches him, loves him as he is, and let's him be just who he is. All goofy funny husky puppy energy Alex. That's great imo.

Busy boy in 2018.😂😂😃😃 he was young.

Short timeline with receipts:

Threesome rumors:

Jan 13-14 2018

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Freyvar 🥀 (Alicia & Alex fans) (@ivarfreydis)

instagram

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Freyvar 🥀 (Alicia & Alex fans) (@ivarfreydis)

instagram

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Freyvar 🥀 (Alicia & Alex fans) (@ivarfreydis)

instagram

People were also posting about topless photos of Gee with Alex. They're deleted now.

· Mar 9, 2018When she finally responds to your desperate love letter text that you know she opened 35 min.… twitter (while in England)

Strange tea about Alex, take with grain of salt etc

May 17 '18#1310

"Does anyone follow Alex H. on instagram? His story yesterday so much cringe, or the hashtag #phatasswhitegirl = Alicia A. :eyeroll: she's the white girl that has fame for being a white girl with a big ass after that scene with Ivar, trying to get her attention alluding her? she's way out of your league, kid."

"He is a creep, he follows her even on spotify when she goes under a secret username but she doesn't follow him back :rofl: smart girl."

Lipstick alley source (I google alex hogh gee hirst threesome and it popped up, the above links. And quote/gossip came from there.)

May 29, 2018 the weekend/pics he took of MK were posted. Cryptic post from her around this timeframe.

Jun 17, 2018 alex hogh with rikke westi red carpet its official twitter:

"Alex Høgh with Rikke Westi via alexhoeghandersen: "Rikke has always been too cool for school, but now it’s official. Watch out. She’s special. Huge congratulations my friend"

August 20th, 2018, Anonymous asked:

"What kind of relationship is there between Alex Høgh Andersen and Mary Kate Slattery???"

"As far as I know they are friends. For a hot minute I thought there might be something but that passed"

So they stayed friends it seems. Maybe they just realized they're better as friends? Maybe the rejection was mutual after all? Maybe he wasn't trying to be serious, just seeing how it goes? Or vice versa we will never know. Good for them. That's mature to stay friends. 😊 Her boyfriend type seems different from Alex. Not a bad thing to each their own.

Late 2018-2020 he dated a few others, one I think named Kaja? I've researched enough for a day. 😆 😆 there were blondes and brunettes, several women, one at the Zulu awards. One sitting on his lap at distortion which was posted on tumblr May 30, 2019 (edited to fix date).

That twitter/x post and IG posts don't seem to be focused so much on privacy. As some claim he's all about, I've always thought he was only private when he wanted to be. That's his choice. 😊😊 So I'm still not getting how Johanne ever "violated" his privacy.

So MK only likes his RC posts/posts that have Johanne in them. That's sweet she probably LIKES Johanne too. She's probably happy for her friend.

Seems like what friends do to me! Like posts and Support each other and be happy for each other. 😊😊😊

Another long post, but as ever don't expect it to be read. Just want to say what I want to say. 😊😊😊

PS I don't think it's weird that he's dated around before finding someone serious. You gotta shop around, see how the "clothes" fit before you buy them. Dating is what people do before they find their match. You gotta figure out what you like/want/need and what you don't like/want/need.😃

#alex høgh andersen #johanne milland #Instagram

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magratpudifoot · 1 year ago

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I didn't tell either of my parents for over a year after my housemate and I became romantic partners. I knew my mother would be perfectly supportive and that it would hurt her that I didn't tell her. But I was having frequent dreams about my father no longer being in my life if he found out, and I decided not to put my mother in a weird position where she knew and he didn't.

I fucked up there. Dad has been fantastically loving of my family since about 3 minutes after I told him.

But that doesn't mean he didn't fuck up by giving me 30 years of little reasons to wonder how unconditional his love was. And it doesn't mean that he doesn't fuck up each time he slips a Fox News talking point into one of our phone calls. And that doesn't negate the fact that those phone calls always end with sincere "I love you"s from both of us.

And I fucked up when I told my cousin that my mother would be supportive if she came out to her as trans. There was about a year where my mother didn't take the time to unpack whatever feelings she was having about my cousin's transition. She was dealing with half a dozen family crises, and I was really, really mad at her for a long time for not being able to just trust that just using my cousin's name was 90% of what was being asked of her at the time. And I was really, really mad at myself for being as patient as I was with her during that year, because grief over one thing doesn't make remembering a name that hard.

But she loved my cousin, and about 3 months after she finally got a chance to sit with her own grief about other issues, she used my cousin's name in a phone call with me, and she hasn't missed a pronoun since.

That pain shapes and informs my future interactions with my parents in ways I wish I never had to consider. But we're all doing shit like that to each other all the time, queer or not.

I feel like we always see parents who are 100% super supportive allies, or parents who are horrible and cruel. At least in media or in the most popular stories. But I feel like that ignores just how many people have parents where you just have no idea? And even if you think they’ll accept you on a surface level, you don’t know if they have a breaking point. Especially if you need to go on hrt, or request they change the way they think about and refer to you. Sure they’re liberal and all, or centrists, or “tolerant”, but how far does that stretch?

I think most closeted LGBT+ kids live like this, wading around in the grey area. I’d like it of more of us knew that was normal, I’d like if we talked about it more.

#no one asked you ms p #queer stuff

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iksidaorvali · 3 months ago

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❛❛ eowyn arryn . ❜❜ ― 🪶 ― sweet little songbird in a gilded cage, how you yearn to spread your wings and fly (marriage may be your only escape but is it truly the key)... patience was a virtue forced upon you by your parents’ repetition to wait, and yet there was never any ending to it (is it still patience if you’ve given up?)... your siblings returning from the adventures you’re so desperate for, the stones they bring you serving as your only taste of the outside world (at least this is better than nothing)...

BASICS.

full name : eowyn aemma arryn

name meaning :

eowyn : literature | "horse lover"

aemma : german | "universal"

arryn : english | "the light bringer"

nicknames : ey, wyn, wynnie

epithets : little bird of the eyrie

titles : lady of the vale, lady of the eyrie, lady of the gates of the moon

gender / pronouns : cis woman / she/her

sexuality : pansexual

date of birth : first day of the tenth moon

age : one and twenty years

zodiac : libra

place of birth : the eyrie, the vale, westeros

accent : english

languages : common tongue, old tongue

allegiance : house arryn, the vale

religion : the faith of the seven

APPEARANCE.

faceclaim : abigail cowen

height : 5′0″

eye color : blue

hair color : strawberry blonde

dominant hand : right

glasses : n/a

MEDICAL.

mental : insomnia, audhd

physical : n/a

PERSONALITY.

positive traits : empathetic, passionate, intuitive

negative traits : naive, distracted, fanciful

hobbies : singing, reading, embroidery, falconry, collecting rocks, daydreaming

RELATIONSHIPS.

parents :

prince consort ___ royce; father [ 55-60 ]

queen regnant ___ arryn, née rogare; mother [ 50-56 ]

siblings :

crown princess alynn arryn; eldest sister [ 30 ]

prince ___ arryn; eldest brother [ 25-27 ]

prince ___ arryn; older brother [ 22-24 ]

extended family :

ruling lord ___ royce; paternal cousin [ 49 ]

queen consort myranda lannister, née royce; late paternal cousin [ 23, deceased 13 years ]

house royce of runestone

via her father

house lannister of casterly rock

via her late paternal cousin's marriage

spouse : n/a

children : n/a

pets :

vardis [ caucasian ovcharka ]

hura [ gyrfalcon ]

airis [ mauritius kestrel ]

ADDITIONAL INFO.

quick facts :

she has a map table in her bedroom in the vale with rocks laid out over the location they came from. each rock was gifted to her

a major animal lover who will refer to her pets as her babies

just a fuckin nerd about rocks. if you let her, she will go on about them for hours and still have more to say

earned the nickname of 'little bird' not only for being the youngest arryn, but also for her small size and beautiful singing voice

could stare at the moon forever. it's her favorite rock

more coming soon. i just wanna write.

biography :

doc here

feel free to ask me anything, as this is a work in progress.

CONNECTIONS.

betrothed : being from a great house, eowyn has lived her life knowing that her marriage would most likely be used as a political tool. while she has come to terms with this truth, it hasn't stopped her from hoping to find love within the arrangement. or friendship, at the very least. (i figure we can plot this out.) i'd love for it to be someone she's not yet met, something arranged by their parents a month or so ago with the intention of introducing the pair while in king’s landing for the the name day festivities. i have a preference for someone from one of the great houses, but am open to other noble houses if the pairing makes sense politically for house arryn. ➢ 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

personal guard : this individual has become not just her guardian, but also her confidant and most trusted ally. likely assigned to her after a few escape attempts, their bond was forged when they argued for her to at least be able to explore the outdoor areas closest to the eyrie. ➢ 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

ladies in waiting : tba ➢ 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 (𝟎/𝟐)

#regis.intro #━━ ⟢ 𝕀𝕍 ⦂ ⋰ * ✧ about ⌜eowyn arryn⌟.

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yunalinwrites · 9 months ago

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saved by the bell (chapter 1) | fushiguro toji x reader

series masterlist | next

available on wattpad

summary: fushiguro toji never makes first moves--until he happens to meet the teacher of the son he hasn't seen in years.

strangers -> fwb -> lovers

takes place in 2006 around the star plasma vessel/hidden inventory/premature death arc; megumi is a first grader

about reader: female, around 30 or older, teacher, has a soft spot for megumi, speaks kind of formally, has daddy issues + abandonment issues

warnings: eventual smut, cursing, alcohol, smoking, daddy issues, abandonment issues, mention of child abuse/trauma, toji is initially kind of an ass, spoilers for the season 2 arc mentioned above

He'd only just stepped out of the FamilyMart, been on the street for all of two seconds before he heard the call of his name.

"Fushiguro?"

"Fushiguro!"

"Thought I told you not to--"

"Sorry, excuse me!"

You shoved past him, catching his widened eyes with yours for but a moment before continuing to run frantically and nearly slipping when you came to a halt and crouched down.

"Fushiguro!" you exclaimed, adjusting your umbrella to accommodate the little boy. "There you are. I told you not to run off like that!"

The boy kept a fixed gaze ahead of him, only interrupting it to wipe his eyes as the rain dripped into them, his usually spiky black bedhead weighed down completely against his face.

"Where on earth did you go?" you asked, examining him for clues.

"There's a monster," he replied plainly.

Finding nothing of note, you checked your watch with one hand and used the other to hastily grab his, barely registering his claim.

"Well, there certainly aren't any monsters on the bus. Not to mention, it's warm and dry. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Your phone vibrated in your coat pocket with a wave of texts--the faculty group chat, you figured--as you moved to obstruct his view with a smile. "Your classmates are wondering where you went."

Still unfazed, he tugged on your blouse and pointed. "Can't you see it?"

Quickly, you pushed the boy's hand down, not even thinking to correct his rude gesture as your voice darkened, "Come on, we need to go."

You stood up from your crouch, pulling the boy along with urgency and speeding up as you passed the stranger, the umbrella angled so it sheltered the boy and covered your face.

The man watched you walk away, staring at your polka-dotted umbrella, trying to burn holes into it, but to no avail; you simply disappeared into the crowd of the street without so much as a glance back. When he was sure you were gone for good, all he could do was look down at his clenched fist. All he could do was look at the milk jug it held, and think about what just happened, how comical it was.

He'd only just stepped out of the FamilyMart, been on the street for all of two seconds before he heard the call of his name--his son's name--for the first time in three years.

***

There were very few things as draining as manning a four-class field trip of seven-year olds, but the walk you found yourself on the following weekend was proving to be up there.

It could've been a word problem: "If there were 6 couples on every block and 2 blocks to the bar, how many sickeningly sweet smiles did Miss L/N see on her way?" Or, alternatively: "If there were 11 restaurant windows with 3 nuclear families in each one, how many drinks will she need tonight?"

You grabbed the bar entrance's handle and swung it open, the resulting wind moving the flowy skirt of your maroon dress. Searching the place briefly, you decided on one of the leather barstools in the corner. You made your way over and tucked your coat under yourself before freezing at the ashtray in the corner of your eye. Sighing deeply at the revelation, you ran your fingers through your hair.

You tried reminding yourself about how it was a Sunday. How, tomorrow, bright and early, you'd have to begin multiplication; how one would turn into two and two would turn into four, and no duration of showering would solve the smell following you all the way to the chalkboard. It was wrong. It wasn't the right answer at all. Shaking the idea out of your head, you turned towards the bartender to try and catch eye contact.

But then you decided that actually, the correct answer was 13 couples, not 12, because the bartender was leaning into that customer's ear too close for comfort. And so, reaching into your purse was definitely the right answer because you needed some kind of relief--one that the bartender clearly wasn't going to be giving you anytime soon--if you wanted to get through grading those tests later tonight. You'd already pulled out your lighter by the time he came over to take your order.

It had been all of two seconds since he sat down at the bar, and a female voice was ringing a bell:

"I'd like a beer, please. The cheapest you've got."

He could just barely hear the short sentence, but even so, he found his gray pupils darting as far left as they could go. At the edge of his vision, he was met with a considerably pretty, though still unfamiliar sight: your dainty fingers tracing the rim of your freshly poured pint, your collarbones somehow still pronounced under the dim lighting, and your lipstick, your dark red lips were as far as he would let his eyes go.

He continued to observe quietly as you leaned your head on your free hand, the thin strap of your dress threatening to slip down at the movement as you stared off and took a drag. You didn't seem to recognize him, at least not yet, and he could say the same about you. But he just couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen you somewhere before. Usually, that was his cue to find a different seat, sometimes even an entirely different bar, but he figured you were easy enough on the eyes that he wouldn't mind taking you home, even if it happened to be for the second time. Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, tonight he was a little restless--maybe even desperate.

He cleared his throat. "Mind if I bum one?"

Tensing up, you straightened your back and turned to him. "Um, yeah, sure," you answered dismissively, reaching into your purse and extending the pack towards him, one stick peeking out.

Grabbing it with a grumbled thanks, he further considered the possibility of you two having slept together before. You were clearly uncomfortable around him, continuously shifting in your seat and avoiding eye contact, whereas female strangers in places like these often did the former but not the latter, starting on his muscular chest and ending with their eyes looking lustily for his, batting their lashes with a lick of their lips. It was only the non-strangers that would try to be one.

Now, if it were any other day, he'd let the poor girl go back to playing her role like she was supposed to. But, again, tonight was different--he was different. It had been a strange past few days.

He brought the lighter to the end of the cigarette and slid it across the counter when he was done. Taking his first inhale, he began his attack.

"I'd buy you a drink," he began, "but if I could afford that, I think I'd be smoking my own cigs."

You perked up at his unexpected joke, struggling to decide on how to respond to that as your cheeks began to heat up. "Oh, um... that's alright," is what you managed to come up with. "I'm... I'm not really that kind of woman."

He squinted his eyes at you. So, you definitely hadn't slept together, then--unless you were really dedicated to the stranger bit. Although, it would make sense if you hadn't; crude as it was, he wasn't familiar with the way your lips enveloped the cigarette, nor with how your fingers wrapped around your glass. But that only fueled him further; if he wasn't already familiar, then he wanted to become familiar.

"Yeah?" he challenged. "What kind of woman are you, then?"

You sighed. "The kind that shouldn't be here."

The man looked around the bar--it was late enough that all the lively celebrants and sports enthusiasts had left already, leaving only corpses slumped next to their empty rounds. He shrugged, returning his gaze to her.

"Don't see anyone that should," he countered.

You took a sip from your glass. "I suppose that's a good point."

"So what's different about you, then?" he asked, bringing the cigarette to his mouth.

Caught off guard once again, you looked at him with your mouth open, about to say something but then closing it, deciding against it. Instead, you took your time to examine him carefully. The dim lighting made it a bit difficult, but you could make out enough thanks to the sharpness of his features; his jawline keen and his eyes hooded, fine black hair falling into them. It wasn't the only thing fine about him--that you couldn't deny, but you also couldn't help but feel uneasy. Even through his hoodless jacket, and even through the gray sweatshirt beneath that, you could tell how hefty his build was, an assumption that was further supported by the sheer size of his hands. It was the exact kind of man your mother told you not to talk to.

"You there?" His voice was deep, alluringly nonchalant as a long cloud escaped his mouth, your attention caught on his sensual breath.

You took another sip--or, rather, a gulp--and set the glass down with a clink, drinking away the consideration of your mother. "I have an image to uphold."

He scoffed with a smirk. "What, you some kind of princess?"

"No," you laughed lightly. "I just... want to set a good example for my kids."

His eyes flitted to your left hand, brows furrowing for a moment. You noticed and, in hindsight, probably should've just let him believe whatever he was thinking. But, alcohol on your breath, you elaborated anyway: "My students, I mean. I'm a teacher."

"Oh," he acknowledged, looking straight ahead again. "Good to know."

An awkward pause followed.

"It's not like they'd ever find out," he suggested, eventually. "You didn't bring 'em here, did you?"

"Oh, God, no. I just..." You bit your lip. "I don't know. I still feel guilty about it."

You traced circles on the dirty counter, feeling each groove of the wood with the pad of your finger.

"I know it's a little stupid, but... Sometimes I worry that they can still smell it. That somehow, the nicotine's still on my skin, and that they can inhale it." You dug your painted nails into your palm. "And I hate imagining them growing up and coming to a place like this and doing these same miserable things because of me."

"I can't imagine you're paid enough to care that much," he argued. Gesturing up and down to your figure, he continued: "You could be a model, you know. Don't know if the pay's much better, but you'll feel like a saint if cigs and beer are all you do."

You chuckled briefly, a softened expression following. "Don't get me wrong--it's as thankless as you've probably heard, but I love my job more than anything," you assured. "But even if I didn't, I'd still do it for free."

"Well, damn. Being around brats all day must be messin' with your head, 'cause that's fuckin' crazy."

"Hey, someone has to show up for those kids," you defended, a firmness in your voice. "I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't."

He didn't say anything to that. Just pondered it.

You tilted your head to the side, relaxing against your palm. "And what about you? What do you do?"

He sat up a bit, blinking away his train of thought. "Physical therapy," he lied. He took a drag and began another falsity, "And I don't have any--" but stopped at the pang of guilt in his chest.

He bit his cheek, stilling as images of that little boy flashed in his mind--in particular, the picture of him pointing at the man accusingly with a woman by his side.

He looked down and cleared his throat again. "I... I have a son."

This time it was your eyes shooting to his ring finger as he lifted the nearly finished cigarette to his lips. And like before, he noticed your glance as he exhaled. "His mom's not around anymore."

"Oh... I'm sorry," you reacted, though admittedly a bit more at ease at both the fact that he had a son and that he was... available.

Another awkward pause sat suffocatingly between the both of you, but not for long.

"Hey, you two," the bartender warned, swiping a wet rag over the counter. "Wrap it up."

In unison, you and the man looked up and realized that the only other person there was the woman the bartender was courting, waiting patiently as he began to put the barstools up.

With one final puff, the man stubbed out his cigarette and you copied, grabbing your coat from your seat and following him out as he held the door for you. Outside, you were met with blinding streetlights and a chill breeze. You moved under the awning, throwing on your coat and, upon realizing he was still there, you took advantage of the better lighting.

It wasn't much you hadn't seen already--again, his features were razor-like--but during your time in there, considering that your seat was to his left, you had only gotten about three-quarters of him, not to mention his lower half. But when you saw him, his face in particular and it in its entirety, one glaring detail caught your eyes, making them go wide: there was a scar across the right corner of his lips.

Your heart dropped, beating and breathing speeding up at the realization of who he was. Your chest got tighter and tighter as you examined his, recognizing the scary figure from three days prior. He turned in the other direction, pretending to look for somewhere to go, so he didn't see the color drain from your skin.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced briefly at the ground. "So, how 'bout it?" he asked, looking up at you smugly. "You waiting on a carriage or are you gonna let me take you home, princess?"

Whatever color had escaped your face before rose right back to your cheeks at his question, burning with both arousal and fear, the two feelings sharing a common denominator of panic. You were seeing his whole body now, and he looked even bigger than before. Standing instead of sitting, and doing so right next to you, he towered over you, just like he did over your umbrella that day. And you couldn't help but remember how icy his glare had been when you bumped into him, and how, equally as cold, he'd barked something angrily at you for it.

And then your mind started to drift into events you couldn't have possibly recalled but could only imagine: perhaps it was from an ugly knife fight on the street, or the shattered glass crossfire of his own bank robbery, or even him taking assignments from the Yakuza and, somehow, through some unimaginably horrific mission, earning that scar. You inferred the likelihood of there being other wounds--other stories that you couldn't see--and that, this time, your mother was probably right.

"I-I," you stammered. "I can't, um..." You swallowed thickly. "I should really go home."

The neon "Open" sign behind you had flickered into nothingness, and, slowly, a drizzle had begun tapping rhythmically against the awning.

Moving closer to you, he persisted. "But it's already past midnight, isn't it? And you're only getting prettier."

That, as soon as it left his lips, he couldn't help but cringe at. He knew he was desperate tonight, but, jeez, he wasn't even drunk and he was saying things he wouldn't be caught dead saying in the daylight. But he couldn't tell if that meant his act was too strong or the opposite: that it was slipping.

Either way, you clearly didn't like it, because you flinched at his approach, and now you were beginning to take slow steps back.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," you said before turning your back to him and picking up your speed. You kept your strides long as you dug into your large purse feverishly until, finally, you felt the nylon of your travel umbrella.

Thanks to your pace, you'd made it a substantial distance by the time you pulled it out, stopping to fiddle with the clasp that kept it shut. You tried catching your breath, your thoughts bouncing around your skull until they landed on a realization. His jacket had no hood.

Yes, that was right, you recalled against your will. When you were talking, when he was saying all those subtle-but-there flirtations in his low voice, eyeing your figure with those hooded eyes and smoking your cigarette so sultrily, you were eyeing him right back in that perfectly fitted black jacket. But, unlike yours, it didn't have a hood.

The shower was coming down harder--it was spring, after all--but you were frozen. Your stilettos were seemingly glued to the sidewalk. Licking your lips before sinking your teeth into them, the taste of rainwater and lipstick mixed with the flavor of alcohol and smoke in your mouth. Slowly prying your heels from the ground, you began to make your way back to him, still standing in front of the bar window and waiting for you with a satisfied grin. Back under the awning, you planted yourself next to him, daring to look at his face, his eyebrows raised.

You pulled up your hood with one hand and extended your umbrella with the other, speaking one final time:

"Don't worry about buying me a drink, okay?"

And with that, you had already taken off, having placed the umbrella against the wall next to him long before he even registered your question. He gawked at the back of your hooded head as you scurried away, heels splashing against the wet concrete as you tried not to slip.

When he was sure you were gone, he bent over and picked up the umbrella. He ran his fingers over the polka-dotted nylon and studied it incredulously, knowing--for certain this time--that he'd seen it before. And yet, he was acting like he didn't even know what the object was, tilting it back and forth as if it weren't the same pattern and shape all around.

The bar door rang with a bell as the bartender and his girl left hand and hand, and the man tried to convince himself he was done studying the item in his.

Eventually, he went to open it, having to fuss with the mechanism that kept the spokes contracted, but as it would turn out, his hunch was right; he hadn't seen all of it. For, when he opened his closed palm and revealed the plastic black handle, he found two lines of cursive handwriting written in silver permanent marker:

If lost, please return to L/N Y/N

xxx-xxx-xxxx

***

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#jjk x reader #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #my writing #writing #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji

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ofarryn · 3 months ago

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BASICS.

full name : eowyn aemma arryn

name meaning :

eowyn : literature | "horse lover"

aemma : german | "universal"

arryn : english | "the light bringer"

nicknames : ey, wyn, wynnie

epithets : little bird of the eyrie

titles : lady of the vale, lady of the eyrie, lady of the gates of the moon

gender / pronouns : cis woman / she/her

sexuality : pansexual

date of birth : first day of the tenth moon

age : one and twenty years

zodiac : libra

place of birth : the eyrie, the vale, westeros

accent : english

languages : common tongue, old tongue

allegiance : house arryn, the vale

religion : the faith of the seven

APPEARANCE.

faceclaim : abigail cowen

height : 5′0″

eye color : blue

hair color : strawberry blonde

dominant hand : right

glasses : n/a

MEDICAL.

mental : insomnia, audhd

physical : n/a

PERSONALITY.

positive traits : empathetic, passionate, intuitive

negative traits : naive, distracted, fanciful

hobbies : singing, reading, embroidery, falconry, collecting rocks, daydreaming

RELATIONSHIPS.

parents :

prince consort ___ royce; father [ 55-60 ]

queen regnant ___ arryn, née rogare; mother [ 50-56 ]

siblings :

crown princess alynn arryn; eldest sister [ 30 ]

prince ___ arryn; eldest brother [ 25-27 ]

prince ___ arryn; older brother [ 22-24 ]

extended family :

ruling lord ___ royce; paternal cousin [ 49 ]

queen consort myranda lannister, née royce; late paternal cousin [ 23, deceased 13 years ]

house royce of runestone

via her father

house lannister of casterly rock

via her late paternal cousin's marriage

spouse : n/a

children : n/a

pets :

vardis [ caucasian ovcharka ]

hura [ gyrfalcon ]

airis [ mauritius kestrel ]

ADDITIONAL INFO.

quick facts :

she has a map table in her bedroom in the vale with rocks laid out over the location they came from. each rock was gifted to her

a major animal lover who will refer to her pets as her babies

just a fuckin nerd about rocks. if you let her, she will go on about them for hours and still have more to say

earned the nickname of 'little bird' not only for being the youngest arryn, but also for her small size and beautiful singing voice

could stare at the moon forever. it's her favorite rock

more coming soon. i just wanna write.

biography :

doc here

feel free to ask me anything, as this is a work in progress.

CONNECTIONS.

ladies in waiting : tba ➢ 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 (𝟎/𝟐)

#regis.intro #━━ ⟢ 𝕀𝕍 ⦂ ⋰ * ✧ about.

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forensicated · 4 months ago

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04x01 - Light Duties

Filmed late May 1988

TW: Racism and sexism as per the time it was written in the late 80's.

The start of Series 4 marks the beginning of the half-hour format and the first update to the theme tune.

Ted is out with now full DC Jim Carver on the Thames. Ted is loving it, but Jim most definitely is not.

They locate the body they've been looking for, nailed to a door, causing Jim to fully lose his breakfast.

Ted: "Cabin class ain't what it used to be."

Reg moans about having Christine as an Inspector, claiming it's just a PR exercise. "I ain't ever worked under a woman before!" he tells June and Viv. "No under nor over." June retorts. Robin thinks it could have been worse; she could be black as well. "That'll never happen!" Reg insists. Robin would rather have Inspector Kite back. June, Viv and Suzanne roll their eyes with June saying she can't wait to see them all kowtowing to Inspector Frazer.

Reg is running a book for Galloway's replacement as DI. Ken wants to put a bet on Burnside and asks for the odds to the surprise of everyone else. Reg says he hasn't got Frank's name in the game but as he's 'a fair man I'll give you 20... no, tell you what, 30/1." Ken bets a tenner on it. "Like taking candy from a baby." Viv tells him it's illegal to get this response...

"Charming." June sighs.

Ted spots something on the door that his corpse has been nailed to - the words 'GRASS' have been engraved into the wood. "Oh hell.." he sighs as a man approaches. Ted tells him to disappear but he won't hear of it. He identifies the body as a former snout and claims that Sun Hill have to hand him over because he's a small part of a big scene. Ted warns him to back off again before the man's boss arrives and tells him to leave.

Taffy and Tony are called to the shopping center (now West12, formerly Concorde Center) where an old man is laid unconscious on the floor. His dog is with him and won't allow them to get near him.

Malcolm Haynes tells Alec that he's settling in fine and can handle himself so not to worry about him. Alec grabs Reg in passing and adds his bet to the book before letting him continue into CAD. Reg finds Tom staring into space and clearly out of it - having just returned from sick leave when he'd been shot at the end of the last series. Tom says he's fine and quickly gets distracted by Tony calling for an ambulance for the elderly man as well as a dog warden. A lady tries to talk to the dog to get him to let them near the man's body but he bites her. Christine appears - as yet unknown to Uniform. She asks if she can be of help and Tony tries to get her to move on which she does after suggesting she might have been a doctor. Taffy says she's a bit of alright but Tony claims she seems like a 'bossy bird' and he doesn't like bossy birds.

Bob and Alec discuss Tom being on light duties. Bob is concerned that feeding the prisoners isn't light duties incase one was to flip and try and attack him. Tom catches the end of the conversation and snaps back that he can still hack it despite what they think. He asks for them to stop mollycoddling them and says he's alright but Bob pulls out his painkillers "They just for indigestion?"

Ted stalks back into CID and is still moaning about having to give up the body to Scotland Yard's Robbery and Murder squads. Mike is amused and bets they let them do all the dirty jobs first. He tells Ted to cheer up and that things will improve when they get a new governor. Ted doesn't believe it and is pissed off he's not being considered for promotion to DI as he's been a DS for over 10 years. He takes his scotch from his desk and stalks out of the room.

In the toilets, Tom is desperately sinking his painkillers out of the sight of others. Ted approaches him with a sigh and leans against the next sink, taking a slug from his bottle before offering Tom some. Tom stares at it before taking the bottle. "Some job, eh?" Ted sighs.

The dog warden has gotten the dog to move away from the old man and the paramedics have gotten him into the ambulance.

Bob and Alec speak to an old friend to ask about Christine and what she's like. They're told that she's good and has got bottle. Reg reports that Christine has arrived a day early, in civvies, and that she's in her office and 'he wouldn't climb over her to get to [Bob]!" "Where there's smoke there's fire and where there's gossip, there's Hollis..." Malcom muses when he continues his way around the station telling everyone that she has arrived.

Ted stands outside the Superintendent's office, before being distracted by a secretary. He's about to make his move before Alec distracts him by asking if he's seen Christine yet.

Ted: "... why are we whispering?"

Alec: ".... I don't know!"

Mike is amused by Alec creeping around and listening at doors. Jim tells him it's because the female inspector has arrived. Mike tells Jim that the deceased snout was linked to a large armed robbery and whilst Scotland Yard floated around that they'd captured the entire firm and gotten most of the loot back the truth is that they'd captured most of the firm and gotten half the loot back. Fingers were pointed at the investigating officer - aka - the man Ted came up against that morning. It just so happens that the snout belonged to DI Frank Burnside and disappeared 3 weeks ago. Ted is furious to hear Frank is a contender for DI at Sun Hill. "Bent Burnside?"

June visits the man from the shopping center in the hospital. He worries about his dog and she tells him she's safe and sound and not to worry. She asks him for his name and advises he carry identification with him in case it happens again. She asks if he has any big worries that could have raised his blood pressure enough to make him pass out - he has, his nephew hasn't returned home or been in contact for a while. The doctor refers him to Social Services and the nurse asks him to tell him off for wearing an expensive pocket watch in plain sight not wanting him to return as a mugging victim.

Jim warns the uniform officers in the canteen to speak to him rather than head upstairs to CID if something requires their help as it's not wise whilst Ted is in the mood he is in. Tony asks June how the old man is doing and if he's been identified yet. June tells him the name and Jim recognises the surname as being the same as the snout they fished from the river that morning. June thinks before asking him how old he would put the man at being. It fits with being the same age range as the old man's nephew. She tells Jim that his info about the blagging fits too as the old man had a solid gold pocket watch hanging from his watch chain. They literally run up to CID to update Ted who sends Jim and June to take the old man's statement and Taffy and Tony to go search the man's house. Tony hesitates on leaving, recognising the woman he'd called "love."

Tom is the first in the pub(The Latimer Arms), drowning his sorrows with several whiskeys. Jim is in the pub with uniform updating them that the old man had no idea about his nephew, he'd just put him up when he'd turned up out of the blue a few months ago. He had an idea that he'd been in trouble but he was more upset about the watch being confiscated. Ted arrives and buys everyone a drink. He's made up because he's netted £25K (today about 90K) worth of stolen high-end watches that Scotland Yard had missed. The Yard are pissed off but Brownlow is pleased with Ted finally!

Christine heads into the pub where Ted spots her and claims 'That is a bit tasty....' Mike agrees and gets up to introduce himself before Ted sits him down and heads over himself. Reg tells Mike not to be jealous when he protests and tells him exactly who she is when Ted goes over...

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