#shrimps london

[whitefireprincess]

New Orleans Shrimp Po Boy | Poor Boys

[cashewbenoit]

nobody look at me

[geraldofallon]

Romance in the Neath: Chitinous Queen

It is like taking flight through a galaxy of stars. A woman drifts beside you, red-eyed and horned. You take her hand, and become her.

You want to stay as you are, cradled by her, gazing up at those fathomless eyes.

She is your first and greatest love. You are part of her.

[shrimparsonist]

SOL chapter 3 spoilers but like what made them think that Edward was, in any way, redeemable? Like "ok he's probably the single most terrible, moral-less, cruel person in London, nay, the world right now, but he's still kinda hot 😳"

Babygirl if you had given a dying child anesthesia a few days ago he'd have killed you without remorse like 19 dialogue vignettes ago. They should have let us shoot him, WHY was he only in jail for a few years dear god.

Also why'd they put Jesse in jail with him? Free my boy he did nothing wrong!

[esteemed-excellency]

obsessed with the parallel descriptions

[ausetkmt]

The Guardian: ‘I see cocaine in wild shrimp in Suffolk’: meet the scientist who analyses our wastewater

the city. Barron, who leads the Emerging Chemical Contaminants team at Imperial College, has no idea what any individual is taking or doing; he explains that very clearly and carefully. He has a research scientist’s precision plus the slight wariness of someone whose research has grabbed headlines, with the inaccuracies and misinterpretations that brings (I wonder what he thought about “Prawn to be wild”, reporting his research on cocaine residue in wild river shrimps.) But he’s also infectiously enthusiastic and generous with his time, spending a whole morning taking me round his lab and through his groundbreaking work.

That work is analysing the chemical composition of wastewater – what we flush down the loo, wash down the sink, shower or bath, what comes from washing machines and dishwashers, but also run-off from street drains – both before and after treatment.

That allows Barron to capture a precise snapshot not of individual behaviour, but of what’s happening in a city, or part of a city. In a recently published paper, for example, analysis allowed his team to trace how the chemical profile of 14 waterways around London evolved over the pandemic, and how levels of various drugs declined during lockdown then recovered (presumably as people started to travel into the city again). They included the anti-anxiety drugs, antidepressants, antibiotics and pain medication, as well as cocaine.

[style-of-princess-beatrice]

A Royal Recycling (part 125)

Shrimps

[songder-bot]

The surfacers are pleased, and pay you well.

"Surfacers"? When did you start thinking like that?

[vintagevamp876]

Jean "The Shrimp" Shrimpton

[jvicblak]

[lilis-doodle-dome]

Flirt chart!

Clarifying certain parts:

- Flirting has to be done with intention, can’t be something that is charming/romantic on accident

- For genuine feelings, Kaito and Heiji are both the recipients while Shinichi and Saguru are the ones confessing (decided bcs I wanted an even split and knew Kaito wouldn’t confess any real feelings under threat of death)

More specific thoughts under the cut (and blank chart at the bottom)

- Kaito does not flirt, he tugs at pigtails and pretends that counts, so flirting is a KID specific action. He has no shame in it since it’s all part of the act to him

- I personally hc him as asexual, but even without that, it’s pretty clear that flirting does nothing for him- seeing how he acted in the “date” episode and his 0 interest in valentines day and lack of reaction to Akako

- Mans can not deal with real emotions, especially if they seem like they’re out of nowhere

-and I think he’s the type that once you break past his poker face (which admittedly takes quite a bit) Boom. He’s broken. Shades of red only visible to shrimp and it goes all the way down to his shoulders.

- not much clarification needed for the first two with Shinichi, maybe that this is post-conan, which is why he gets awkward with flirting instead of gloating

- again since this is post-conan I think he makes an effort to be upfront about his feelings right off the bat, no chance for something to get in the way then.

-But he’s not the most self aware so it might take him a bit to puzzle out his emotions, as soon as he does I like to imagine him turning to the recipient of his feelings, and dramatically announcing his discovery, like it’s a deduction show. Finger point and all

- He’ll probably get embarrassed the next second when he realizes what he did

- Hakuba is just using standard high-class English niceties he learned from growing up rich in London, but he’s also observant enough to see that it clearly causes a reaction when used

- and I don’t think he’s above using that to his advantage, especially since he can be otherwise awkward at socializing

- although I don’t think he realizes it could be taken as leading someone on, since he doesn’t really have any intentions with it beyond gaining favor and he’s not quite aware enough to see the heart eyes directed his way

- I only did verbal flirting so in that case I think it mostly goes over Hakuba’s head (a combination of cultural differences and social obliviousness) but if you did more physical advances -alla holding his hand or bumping shoulders- then he would react by going stone still, completely tense and delightfully red!

- Like Shinichi I think Saguru prefers to be upfront with his feelings and would confess quickly after figuring out his feelings, sometimes it can be hard to be fully truthful but he finds it’s generally worth it in the end

- even if he’s rejected then he can move on instead of perseverate over the feelings

- Hattori is the character I know the least by my general vibe is that he sucks at intentional flirting (although tends to do things unthinkingly that knock people off their feet)

- He’s kinda a Tsundere? More in the sense that any attempts at flirting are more likely to be somehow taken as a slight and make him competitive, instead of landing at romantic as intended

- Sunshine golden retriever smile. What else is there to say. You agree.

Blank chart if anyone wants it!

[jamneuromain]

Wild Child Chapter. 1

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome on board Flight CM80072 from London to Ancetol. This is your Captain speaking. My name is…”

The broadcast started as you stuffed your ears with your earbuds. The screeching static along with the horrible noise whenever the captain chewed the mic in his lips and popped every consonant as if he couldn’t speak otherwise.

You should have brought your earplugs.

Or fly your private plane.

Correction: Fly your family’s private plane.

But you guessed they were still mad at you, which was probably the reason why the bodyguard they sent simply handed you an envelope with an airplane ticket inside.

“Would you like to see the menu?” The stewardess asked you with a kind smile, handing you the thick book of menu, “We have foie gras, smoked salmon, or veal rolls for the main course. Of course, you can also choose the vegan meal. All the ingredients are listed below the dishes.”

“I’ll have the veal roll.” You took a sip of the lemon-flavored soda she gave you earlier, “First course - the shrimp, and dessert would be the … ice cream, with extra berry toppings?”

“Excellent choice, Miss Y/L/N.” The stewardess nodded, taking notes of your demands, the impeccable smile still on her lips, “Any drinks?”

The bodyguard to your back coughed. Very loudly. Very spontaneously. As if he would be dead if someone didn’t hand him a glass of water or ship him off to the chemotherapy very soon.

“Cappu…” you changed your mind as soon as you were “reminded” that you were not allowed to drink alcohol, "Screw it, apple cider please.”

“Miss -” The bodyguard in the full black suit tried to warn you, “His Lordship won’t be pleased.”

“His Lordship,” you sniggered, “desperate measure to demonstrate his control over me, huh? Plus, I don’t think I recall our King has issued any announcement on the succession of the title. So, Lord him all you like. Pathetic man. I’m not respecting someone who participated perhaps even less than a minute in creating me.” You muttered the last few words under your breath.

You could practically imagine what “His Lordship” would do when he hears the report from the bodyguard, word for word.

He might throw some crystal ornaments to the wall, shouting at the top of his lungs, as if that would reinforce his authority.

A man to your right chuckled. Like you, he was just approached by the stewardess regarding his meal choice, now sipping scotch on the rocks. You glared at him. He looks like a man in his 30s. Terribly well dressed. The suit fitted his tailoring right up to his cufflinks. Golden cufflinks, you might add. White shirt without a tie. Long hair with a full-grown beard.

“Sorry, can’t help but overhear.” He raised his hands and folded them on his knees, “I’m Guy. Guy Thomas.”

“Mr. Thomas,” you shared your given name with him, but left out your family name, offering to shake his hand.

“Guy.” He stressed, “You’re from Ancetol?”

You were born in the outskirts of Ancetol, the capital of your home country, Ballenia, one of the few countries that are still ruled by a monarch. Your mother was relieved that you were blessed with a quick birth. But your father wanted nothing more than a boy. A boy that could take the family title and carry the family honor. Probably why he didn’t make an appearance until the second day of your birth. Reluctantly. You might add.

You spent the next couple of years of your life in a small town in Ballenia, growing up with your mother who thought innocently that your father would miraculously love you and accept you both as family.

You stopped believing in “a happy marriage” a long time ago. No. You stopped believing in “marriage”. And the fairy tales. And the lovely stories that told you one day, Prince Charming would come to rescue you riding his big white horse and ask you to be his wife, and some happily ever after bullshit.

No.

The reality was, fairly close to the story of your family, where the “Cinderella”, your mother, was abandoned by the prince, who is your father, and he had a couple of mistresses when Cinderella was only allowed to be presented during formal circumstances.

Ah yes, after all, a divorce would destroy the reputation of His Lordship. Making them look bad if they kick a civilian woman out of the door. The press would go frenzy about it, spreading the news that the “Cinderella” had been divorced by the cold-hearted heir of the Duke.

Luckily, or, unlucky for your father, it was your grandfather who carried the Duke title. Your grandfather who was equally displeased with you, a useless girl. Your grandfather, who passed away quite recently. Three days ago.

Hence, your urgent return. And some pretenses for the reputation of your family.

So, sunglasses it is then. During the funeral. With a white handkerchief. No one will see your dry eyes incapable of producing tears, not for that old bastard anyway. You thought to yourself, eyeing the huge bulk of a man next to you.

Did you forget to mention that the late Duke did the same trick as your father? Marrying a civilian woman and keeping a dozen mistresses in the same mansion they live in?

“You sound local.” You commented on the way he speaks English, “Are you from Ancetol as well?”

“Aww, what gave it away?” The man switched to fluent Ballenian, the language you haven’t heard of for years, and asked you, sounding sincere, “Is it the ‘r’? I always mess up the ‘r’.”

“Your name doesn’t sound local though,” you buckled your seatbelt as the stewardess stepped close to inform you the plane was ready to depart, lowering your eyes to fumble with the metal link, “Guy Thomas. Very American.”

Ari, no, Guy, pushed a little smile on his lips.

Of course, this name sounded American. You would freak out if he told you his true name.

“My mother is American and my father is Ballenian.” Which was 75% true because his mother was half American. The other half Danish.

He went by “Guy Thomas” when he was having fun among people and didn’t want to spoil everything by announcing he was Ari. The fucking prince of Ballenia.

Total mood killer.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” You joked, “Or visiting your family?”

“Mostly business.” Ari fabricated a lie out of nowhere, “I work as a manager of my family business.” Technically that’s not a lie. He even slipped in some details for credibility.

Family business, the kingdom.

Manager, well sort of, since his dad owned the country.

“And I’m back in Ballenia to secure a deal.”

You lacked interest in business and all that, waving your hand as if dismissal, but allowing the stewardess to come and take away the food and drink in front of you, “hard to do business nowadays, especially when the Minister of Foreign Trade is a jackass.”

“You speak as if you know him.”

“Please, he’s been in that position for fifteen years.” You rolled your eyes.

The minister tried to get you to marry his hideous, lazy, pig-like son who knows nothing more than eating, smoking, and partying. Promising your father to “sweeten the deal” by favoring the company your mother owned but your father controlled.

Your father really would have said yes if it weren’t for the deal years ago, promising you to another man already. A man more powerful than the minister or his son will ever be.

“Of course, he is a jackass. If not now, then somewhere in his 15 years of gripping the foreign trade.” But you were not telling a total stranger about you being promised around like a Ming-Dynasty Vase. “Just look at the new announcement he made with the U.S. What deal did he make? None! Claiming that ‘further efforts are needed’. Further my ass. The Ambassador from the States could barely keep the smile on his face for Christ’s sake.”

Ari took a mental note to look into this “jackass” Minister.

“What about you?” He asked, “Visiting your family? Plan on staying here long?”

You pursed your lips on hearing the question.

Visit your family? How about dead family?

You were here to attend your grandfather, the late Duke’s funeral.

Staying long?

You wouldn’t curse yourself like that.

The longer you stay, the more probable your father and your mother will talk you into marriage.

You loved your mother, but for Christ’s sake, “I hope not.”

Ari didn’t respond to your reply. He simply hummed, making you confused about whether he agreed with you or not.

The plane did not wait for a minute more before departing into the air. A short while of gravity shift brought you 30,000 feet up in the sky. You pulled down the blind as the annoying sunlight burned your eyes, getting up for a bit more leg room and heading to the bathroom.

In the blink of an eye, a violent turbulence threw you off your own feet.

The soft ring of the safety belt sign turned the orange light on, while you slowly came to your senses that you weren’t embraced by the ground, but rather a firm body wrapping around you. One arm on your back, holding your upper body, another hung – rather awkwardly – in the air. You were sitting on his thick thighs sideways. Your ankle hurting. You were pretty much sure you twisted it with your damn heels.

“Miss Y/L/N!” The bodyguard hurried towards you, completely disregarding the tremble of the plane, rushing to your side. “Miss, I need you to try and stand up.” He held out an arm, leaning towards you to help you up.

Seeing him trying to assess how hurt your ankle was, you were very touched that he was concerned and reacted quickly. Maybe a small pay rise for him if you get back to your home?

Your bodyguard sighs, shaking his head with a disapproving look, “If this is your way of trying to escape the deal, his lordship won’t be pleased.”

Oh yes, the deal. The deal that simply packed you like a FedEx item and threw you to the palace door. The deal that promised you to the prince, right after you were born. The deal that you were told by your parents to honor for as long as you can remember. The deal lurking in the corner and bit you in the ass whenever you had done something to displease your father, reminding you over and over again that the only reason that you were alive was the fucking deal.

Apparently, your father had left out a most important piece of detail when instructing this bodyguard to “guard” you from running away.

You hardly ever do as you’re told.

“I think my ankle is broken.” You said dryly, pointing at your feet, not even trying to pretend that you can convince no one with your bland facial expression, “Can’t get up.”

Ari bit his lips so that he wouldn’t laugh.

You were sure as hell an interesting soul.

If he had any doubt or concerns regarding marrying you, a complete stranger in a matter of weeks, he now had none.

He thought you were the kind of girl who was a black sheep in the family, a wild child, with tattoos on your eyeballs or something. But you were nothing like his imagination.

Wild? Sure.

Black sheep? Compared to your father, the to-be-Duke, who seemed more like what the term was describing.

Ari raised his eyebrows, “Although I wouldn’t oppose you sitting on my thighs,” he nodded towards the stewardess who lurked behind the thin veil of curtain, “I’m afraid she would be unable to do her job properly if this continues.”

You clenched your jaw. Ignoring the extended hand from your bodyguard, you stood up, feeling instantly a sharp pain stinging your bones.

Bathroom was long forgotten, not that you have a chance to reach there on your own, you slumped down the seat and made sure you pushed the seat back until you could almost lie down like on a gurney. Lifting the hurting ankle on your other ankle, you closed your eyes.

Fuck his lordship.

The pain throbbing on your ankle. Your body dipped in both the coolness of the AC and the heat from your spine and the back of your head.

The few hours on the plane became more and more unbearable.

The veal roll didn’t lift your spirit in any way when it was brought to you.

The meat itself was fine. Only that it tasted like wax to you. You let out a long exhale as you outstretched your leg to ease the stress. Finishing the meal barely, you pushed the plate away, not even looking at the cider that you were thrilled to piss your father off with, and asked the stewardess for some paper. Empty sheets for writing.

She was clearly dumb-founded by your request, but hurried to carry your idea out.

You thanked her when she brought you some sheets, torn from some notepad as there were jigsaw razor edges on the side of the paper.

If the pain and the fact that every second you were closer to Ballenia was bothering you, you only needed something more bothering to take your mind off.

Ari narrowed his eyes when he cast a glimpse that you pulled out a pen from your bag from the overhead compartment and started writing on the empty sheets of paper.

Call him nosey but he wanted to know what you were writing.

Too inconvenient for him, your letters scribbled too small for his eyes to see. Occasional glimpses couldn’t help him read your writing. Nor that the content on your phone was clear enough for him to read either.

He did know that should be a text of some kind.

What text though? That was the real question.

…not some kind of text that could curse the royal family of the Ballenia, right?

Ari was almost amused by his own thoughts, before a shiver ran down his body and stuck an idea in his mind that this was totally and perfectly possible.

…you wouldn’t, would you?

Hard to tell. You weren’t exactly obeying the orders to marry him. Delaying it a couple of times in the past three years. And now, hearing that you had just called a minister “asshole” … or was it “butt ass” (?), anyway, something about ass, behind his back, and that you could mull a long face over your own bodyguard? Ari couldn’t figure out your temper and your actions all of a sudden.

The adjectives, that your father and his father used when they were talking about you, didn’t even come close to you.

“Kind” “Warm” “Considerate” “Perfect Princess”.

“Exceptional”. Maybe this was the right word.

Definitely different and strong-minded.

He could almost imagine the changes you would bring to his family and the kingdom.

He could discuss politics with you. You had your own thoughts and ideas, which was a good sign. Talk about foreign policies. Speaking of, he should really have someone fetch your dissertation from your university to understand where lies your interests. He’d allow gossip on the table too, if that’s what you like.

Ari hated gossip.

And there he was, imagining the future with you, before you were willing to marry him.

“If you want the book, I can lend it to you.” Your voice snapped him out of his fantasies. You had stopped scribing and rubbing your knuckles with your other hand. Pursing your lips together, you had, obviously, found out that he had his eyes glued to you.

“I’m sorry?”

“The History and Nature of International Relations.” You shrugged, twirling your wrist and your shoulder for writing too long, “I gotta warn you though, it’s pretty boring.”

Ari knew the correct answer to his question, but he asked either way, “You are studying it?”

“No. Yes. Hmpf,” You pouted at your change of words, “I did. I was. I was studying International Relations.” Something blipped in your mind, “Did you know this book?”

Ari smiled, “Took a course in International Relations years ago. I’m surprised they are still using it as an example of a textbook – where did you study?”

“NYU.” That’s a plain fat lie. You had a friend studying at NYU, but you were not planning on giving all your personal information away to a complete stranger, “You?”

Ari cocked his eyebrows. You were studying in Cambridge. He read that from your file.

“University of Ancetol.” Because studying there demonstrated the confidence of the Royal family in their country’s educational system. From there, the lies weaved themselves from his lips, “Got an undergrad degree and started to take over the family business. I visited New York last year,” along with his father, the King, but they travelled as quietly as they could, initiating a state visit without disturbing the press, “I miss school, now that I’m thinking of it.” Ari sighed deeply, “Wanted to get a grad degree but work’s too busy.”

“A manager in your family business?” You teased him light-heartedly, “Surely you can spare the time and study for a grad degree.”

Ari chose to evade this question. Reaching for his suit pocket, he fished out a business card with his name (Guy Thomas) and phone number on it, handing it to you, “Grad school doesn’t exactly tolerate me flying all over the world for … my family business.” He pushed his soft brown hair behind his ears, his eyes sparkling with a hint of joy that he had successfully fooled you, “Jewelry, my specialty. Diamonds, pearls, gemstones … call me if you need anything.”

“Oh, and she got her Master’s degree two months ago.” Ari casually dropped this to his parents in the middle of having dinner, he almost felt proud of his future wife, “Majoring in Political Science and International Relations. With a merit… no, distinction. The top 10% of her class.”

“We want a princess, not a college professor.” His father looked rather disappointed, “We were promised a princess.”

Ari didn’t understand.

If it were to be a marriage without love, he’d rather his spouse would be clever than bimbos who need help spelling “distinction”. Clever would mean he has a handful to deal with, yes, but what’s the fun in talking with someone who only cares about mani-pedi and the latest fashion magazines when he would be running the country?

Why wouldn’t they want someone smart as his wife?

“Your father is right, Ari,” his mother, Queen Olivia, reminded him with a softer tone, “we don’t need someone academically outstanding. We only want her to care for your home, you, and your future children.” She then turned to Ari’s father, King Victor, with blame framing her tone, “Told you should’ve just kept her with us when she was born. I knew Y/L/Ns were incompetent in raising our son’s future wife.”

Ari nearly spat out his food, “HOUSEWIFE?” Earning the “Shhh” from the Queen, he ignored the palace rules and the rules of being a prince altogether, “You want a HOUSEWIFE as the future queen?”

“For the moment.” Olivia waved her hand as if all this was not important, “Only temporal. After you get acquainted with the Upper House, you could divorce her and we’ll find you a proper wife.”

Taglist: @irishhappiness @patzammit

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[pippin-katz]

I need a cast audiobook of RWRB. If no one else, then at least Taylor and Nick reading Alex and Henry. I need it in my life.

And in ACD fashion, here’s a few lists of lines/conversations from the book that I am desperate to hear them say. I want to hear them read all of the lines, but these are the ones that pop out to me!

Post Writing Note: These turned out to be way longer than I thought they were going to be 😭😂

Alex Lines:

Oh yeah, that was a wild night. Two whole keynote speakers. Nothing sexier than shrimp cocktails and an hour and a half of speeches on carbon emissions. - page 5

'Archnemesis' implies he's actually a rival to me on any level and not, you know, a stuck-up product of inbreeding who probably jerks off to photos of himself. - page 7

Jesus Christ, it’s like they can see into your soul. Cornbread knows my sins, Henry. Cornbread knows what I have done, and he is here to make me atone. - page 77

I always thought you’d kill me in a more personal way. Silk pillow over my face, slow and gentle suffocation. Just you and me. Sensual. - page 80

Shut up, shut all the way up, oh my God. - page 131

For fuck's sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me good-night. - page 145

What in the rich-white-people-sex-dungeon hell? - page 149

Bisexuality is truly a rich and complex tapestry. - page 194

Listen: I'll fly to London right now and pull you out of whatever pointless meeting you're in and make you admit how much you love it when I call you "baby". I'll take you apart with my teeth, sweetheart. - page 204

You don't get to sit up here and pretend like it's someone else's problem. None of us do. - page 209

i want to see a cage match between your grandmother and this fucking ghoul running against my mom. - page 221

I do think I got a gut feeling with you, I just didn't have what I needed in my head to understand it. But I kind of kept chasing it anyway, like I was just going blindly in a certain direction and hoping for the best. I guess that makes you the North Star? - page 244

Henry! Your Royal fucking Highness! - page 269

Really nice. Fuckin' ghost me for a week, make me stand in the rain like a brown John Cusack, and now you won't even talk to me. I'm really just having a great time here. I can see why y'all had to marry your fucking cousins. - page 270

I fucking love you, okay? Fuck, I swear. You don't make it fucking easy. But I'm in love with you. - page 271

I'll leave, as soon as you tell me to leave. - page 275

Okay, I'm into making history. - page 280

I completely fucking love you. - page 291

I'm there for whatever you decide you want to do, just, like, let me know if I need to start practicing gazing wistfully out the window, waiting for my love to return from the war. - page 296

AN INCOMPLETE LIST: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES Note: just the entire list, I need it, but I'll point out some of the best ones anyway lol

9. How hard you try. 10. How hard you've always tried. 11. How determined you are to keep trying. - page 303

16. Your huge, generous, ridiculous, indestructible heart. 17. Your equally huge dick. 18. The face you just made when you read that last one. - page 303

20. The fact that you loved me all along. - page 303

God, I want to fight everyone who's ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn't it? All that time. I'm so sorry. - page 303

Listen, I'm telling you right now, I will physically fight your grandmother myself if I have to, okay? And, like, she's old. I know I can take her. - page 312

You and me and history, remember? We're just gonna fucking fight. Because you're it, okay? I'm never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you. - page 312

Sería una mentira, porque no sería él. (It would be a lie, because it wouldn't be him.) - page 317

but i've kissed your mouth, that corner, that place it goes, so many times now. i've memorized it. topography on the map of you, a world i'm still charting. i know it. i added it to the key. here: inches to miles. i can multiply it out, read your latitude and longitude. recite your coordinates like la rosaria. - page 319

give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you. - page 320

Zahra, you're my mean friend. - page 339

I've never... I haven't been through anything like that. But I've always felt it, in him. There's this side of him that's... unknowable. But the thing is, jumping off cliffs is kinda my thing. That's the choice. I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose. - page 344

For what it's worth, that is the bravest son of a bitch I've ever met. - page 347

My life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person. - page 371

You are, the absolute worst idea I've ever had. - page 372

FIRST SON ALEXANDER CLAREMONT-DIAZ'S ADDRESS FROM THE WHITE HOUSE, OCTOBER 2, 2020 - pages 372-375 Note: just, the entire speech, the whole thing

America: He is my choice. - page 374

Henry Lines:

Hmm, I always liked Luke. He's brave and good, and he's the strongest Jedi of them all. I think Luke is proof that it doesn't matter where you come from or who your family is--you can always be great if you're true to yourself. - page 45

The turkeys are not going to Jurassic Park you. You’re not the bloke from Seinfeld. You’re Jeff Goldblum. Go to sleep. - page 82

You are the thistle in the tender and sensitive arse crack of my life. - page 73

fucking eyelashes - page 142

I shall just have to make it the best orgasm of your life. What can I do to make it good for you? Talk about American tax reform during the act? Have you got talking points? - page 196

How is a man to get anything done knowing Alex Claremont-Diaz is out there on the loose? - pages 202-203

They wanted something less fruity than the truth, but truly, what is gayer than a woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown every day of her life, for the drama? - page 205

Someone else's choice doesn't change who you are. - page 229

Most things are awful most of the time, but you're good. - page 230

The phrase "see attached bibliography" is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me. - page 241

Should I tell you that when we're apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I've been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all? - page 242 Note: based on the parts of this we did get to hear Nick say in the film, I think this would kill half the fandom lol

When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you? - page 272

I never thought I'd be stood here faced with a choice I can't make, because I never... I never imagined you would love me back. - page 273

The Mail will write mad speculations about where I've gone, if I've offed myself or vanished to St. Kilda, but only you and I will know that I'm just sprawled in your bed, reading books and feeding myself profiteroles and making love to you endlessly until we both expire in a haze of chocolate sauce. It's how I'd want to go. - page 294

Here lies Prince Henry of Wales. He died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock. - page 298

"Because I'm not like the rest of the men of this family, beginning with the fact that I am very deeply gay, Philip." - page 298

But the first time I saw you. Rio. I took that down to the gardens. I pressed it into the leaves of a silver maple and recited it to the Waterloo Vase. It didn't fit in any rooms. - page 300

I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen, and I had better keep it a safe distance away from me. I though, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire. - page 300

And then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. - page 300 Note: I really wanted to just type out most of the page, but I restrained myself lmfao

I don't know if I would have chosen it yet, but it's out there now, and... I won't lie. Not about this. Not about you. - page 338

Bit short for a stormtrooper. - page 340

I've bloody well had it. I've sat about long enough letting you and Gran and the weight of the damned world keep me pinned, and I'm finished. I don't care. You can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, Philip. I'm done. - page 347

I've been as gay as a maypole since the day I came out of Mum, Philip. - page 353 Note: there's never too many times to hear the words "gay as a maypole" and the emotional infliction here is lot different lol

Both:

Am I offending you? Sorry I'm not obsessed with you like everyone else. I know that must be confusing for you. Do you know what? I think you are. Only a thought. Have you ever noticed I have never once approached you and have been exhaustingly civil every time we've spoken? Yet here you are, seeking me out again. Simply an observation. - page 18

This is idiotic. Let's get it over with. I'd rather be waterboarded. Your country could probably arrange that. Go fuck yourself. Hardly enough time. - pages 36-37 Note: yes, I know Nick read this part in his book-to-screen video thingy but it's not the same as having them both saying the lines fully in character.

What does Jedi have? Fuckin' Ewoks. Ewoks are iconic. Ewoks are stupid. - page 52

yo there's a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe I BEG YOU TO NOT - page 84

I'm going to die. I'm going to kill you. Yes, you are. - page 133

You were jealous. You want me. Yes, you preening arse, I've wanted you long enough that I won't have you tease me for another fucking second. - page 137

Hi. Hello. I'm gonna take your pants off now. Yes, good, carry on. - page 141

Ugh, you look ridiculous. Should I-- What? No, of course not, keep them on. Oh my God, what are you doing? I can't even look at you. No, Jesus, I just mean--I'm so mad at you. Just, come here. Fuck. I'm quite confused. Me fucking too. - page 150

I'm not... historically great at talking about things. Well, I wasn't historically great at blowjobs, but we all gotta learn and grow, sweetheart. - page 165

Bitch, you took me there. alskdjfadslfjad NORA YOU BROKE HIM - page 212

D'you know what I want? What? I want, to do the absolute last thing I'm supposed to be doing right now. Then tell me to do it, sweetheart. Fuck me. Well, when at Wimbledon. Just so we're clear, I'm about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family. Like, that's what's happening? Right. Awesome, fucking' love doing things out of spite. - page 217 Note: I think this conversation could singlehandedly kill the fandom if we got to hear Taylor and Nick deliver these lines

Can't you ever just do one thing without having to be so goddamn extra about it? That is bloody rich coming from you. - pages 260-261

What do you want? I want you- Then fucking have me. -but I don't want this. - page 273

You seem... less pissy. You're one to talk. I wasn't the one who stormed the palace in a fit to call me an 'obtuse fucking asshole'. In my defense, you were an obtuse fucking asshole. - page 277

I honestly have never thought I deserved to choose. But you treat me like I do. You do. I think I'm actually starting to believe that. - page 279

What about you? What about me? Christ, Alex. The whole bloody time. The whole time? Since the Olympics. The Olympics? But that's, that's like- Yes, Alex, the day we met, nothing gets past you, does it? 'What about you,' he says, as if he doesn't know- Shut your mouth. - page 283-284

Hello, what was that for? I just, like, really love you. - page 286

What are you doing? I'm taking a picture of a national gay landmark. And also a statue. It's funny. I always thought of the whole things as the most unforgivable thing about me, but you act like it's one of the best. Oh, yeah. The top list of reason to love you goes brain, then dick, then imminent status as a revolutionary gay icon. You are quite literally Queen Victoria's worst nightmare. And that's why you love me. My god, you're right. All this time, I was just after the bloke who'd most infuriate my homophobic forebears. Ah, and we can't forget they were also racist. Certainly not. Next time we shall visit some of the George III pieces and see if they burst into flame. - page 289

If Alex from this time last year could see this. He'd say, 'Oh I'm in love with Henry? That must be why I'm such an arse to him all the time'. - page 387

Thanks for reading!! If you enjoyed this post & would like to support me, you can give me a tip on my Ko-Fi! ☺️

[cameronspecial]

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 4)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Substance and Alcohol Use, Talk about Addiction, Swearing and Toxic Relationship Signs.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: Y/N takes the first steps to move on and she finds Rafe in a compromising position.

Masterlist

The Outer Banks isn’t famous for their food selection, so Y/N decides to take Cole to The Wreck. “This place doesn’t look like much, but a family friend owns the place so it’s good,” she promises to Cole, walking through the door he holds open for her. He nods and places his hand on the small of her back, “It’s okay. I like the mom-and-pop vibe of the place. It’s cute.” Kiara spots Y/N easily and squeals. “Y/N, I heard you are back! I’m a little offended that you didn’t come sooner,” Kie tackles her in a hug then spots Cole. “Oh, he’s cute. I approve. I’ll give you the back seat near the window. It’s the most romantic one.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. Y/N laughs at the girl’s comments. The couple is led toward the table and he lets her sit on the booth side facing the front door. “The hostess here is very friendly. I like her,” he jokes as he settles into his seat. Y/N roars with laughter, “Yeah, that’s Kiara. We’re friends. She can get a little excitable.’ Cole chuckles with her. “So what should I eat?”

Y/N smiles at him and points on the menu to her favourite meal. “I love the po’ boys. I normally go for the oyster one, but the shrimp one is good too. Fun fact, these were only supposed to be a special item for the summer menu, but I begged Kiara’s parents, who own this place, to keep it on the menu and I guess I am a very good negotiator.” Cole looks over the choices and nods, “Ohh, that does sound like it would taste good. And you are a very good negotiator, I heard the story about how you negotiated with the people at one of your Canadian venues to have a poutine bar at the signing.”

“Wow, you heard about that? I did do that because who wouldn’t want a poutine bar at their first Canadian signing? The poutine was good in case you were wondering. One of the best decisions I made on the tour. Right after giving out free devil horns and angel wings at each venue. It was so fun seeing everyone wearing them in person and on social media. So how’s work going?” 

“I’m slowly making my way to the top. I would do even better if I could get a certain OBX native to sign on with us.”

“Oh, so that’s the real reason why you wanted this date. I see how it is.”

“I’m joking. I’m joking. You know that. It really is going well, though. The fact that they trusted me to scope out this place is a good sign.”

“So if they do open up an office here, would you be the one to come here?”

“Uh, yeah. I would probably be the one to do that. Have you ever thought about moving back home?”

“Uh, I love this place, but I don’t think my forever home is here. My whole life I’ve dreamed of living in London. Ever since I went to London with my mom when I was younger to check on the publishing of one of her books. It was absolutely magical and plus, I’m already setting up shop there a little more permanently with my bookstore.”

“Right, I heard about your bookstore. I hope I’m going to be on the guest list for the grand opening.”

“Of course, you’ll be first on my list. I promise.”

The rest of the date is spent joking and talking about various things. She honestly had such a good time with him that she forgot that their first date so many years ago was not a great start. It made her forget that she once couldn’t get the idea of Rafe outside of her head. Maybe it really is time for her to move on. 

——

Why she keeps letting Mason drag her to different places is beyond her. She doesn’t want to be at Kelce’s party right now. She hasn’t had a chance to see him yet since she came back but this is not how she imagines their reunion. “Y/N, I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me,” Kelce yells over the music, giving her a big hug. Y/N returns the hug, “It’s good to see you too, Kelce. Nice party.” “You don’t really mean that, but it means a lot that you are here. Even if I know Mace brought you here.” Y/N shakes her head and lets Kelce get back to greeting other people. She moves towards the kitchen to get some snacks and something to sip on. Mason ran off to talk to friends, so she makes small talk with people she knew, who passed through the kitchen. 

With all the sipping she does, nature starts to eventually call and she makes her way to the upstairs bathroom in Kelce’s room. She knows only his closest friends would dare to go up there. She enters the closed bathroom without knocking because she wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the bathroom. However, she is surprised to see Rafe in there already. She is outraged at the activities she finds him doing up here all by himself. Rafe is leaning over the counter with his nose dangerously close to a white powder substance. He quickly bolts upright and uses the back of his hand to wipe the powder residue around his nose. “What the fuck are you doing?” she yells with anger. The last time she had seen him, he had given up weed because he knew how she felt about drugs. She couldn’t believe he escalated to something stronger.

When she found out about Mason smoking weed, she wasn’t thrilled, but she did research to find out that there was a low risk of drying from a weed overdose. It gave her some peace of mind, but she made both Mason and Rafe, once she found out he picked up the habit too, promise her that they wouldn’t try anything else. They agreed because they knew how terrified she was of losing some after she went to a funeral for one of her mother’s friends, who had died of an overdose. Even though they broke up, she could not believe that Rafe would go against the promise he made fifteen-year-old her. “This is none of your business, Y/L/N,” he spits out, moving in front of the counter, subconsciously, to hide the drugs from her. 

“Rafe, you broke your promise. You and Mason both promised me that you wouldn’t do anything other than weed.”

“Don’t worry, Mace isn’t doing this shit too. He doesn’t know that I’m doing it either. I just needed something to make me forget.” 

“Right now, he is the last thing I’m worried about. What could you possibly need to forget about so much?” Her anger turns to concern as she can see the pain hidden in his eyes. She may not like that he is now doing the drug, but she is slowly piecing the puzzle together. The steps she takes forward are small, as though she is approaching a fawn, because she fears he is going to run from her. He lets her place her hand onto his bicep as he looks at her with blown pupils. “Like you need to ask that question,” he grumbles, moving out of her reach. “No, I guess you don’t. But you aren’t allowed to come back after all these years and pretend like you care.”

“Rafe, I’m not pretending. I really am concerned about you.”

“Don’t lie to me. You don’t care about my feelings. Because if you did, you never would’ve come back. You never would’ve stopped talking to me. And you never would’ve broken up with me.”

She begins to feel frustrated and attacked in this conversation, which causes tears to fall down her cheek. “Really? I broke up with you because I care about you. I sacrificed my future with you because I cared for YOU!” 

Rafe shakes his head and lets out a low chuckle. “No, you sacrificed our love so you can stop feeling guilty.” He doesn’t say another word as he pushes off the counter he was leaning on and storms out of the room. Y/N sits on the toilet and lets her tears stream down her face. 

—— 

She couldn’t stay at the party any longer, so she called Cole and asked him if he could pick her up. He was there about thirty minutes later in a rental car. She gets in without a hitch and he immediately notices her sadness. “Are you okay?” Y/N gives him a tight-lipped smile, “Can we go somewhere else first, please?” Cole nods and starts the car. He takes her to a McDonald’s parking lot. She feels a pain in her chest at the memory of the last time she went to an OBX McDonald’s with a boy. “Thought you might be hungry, so how about I get us something to eat and then you can pour your heart out to me after?” he promises, getting out of the car and into the establishment.

A few minutes later, he jogs out of the restaurant with a bag and tray in his hand. He puts the paper bag on the dashboard and hands over a McFlurry first. She gives him a questioning look, “Dessert first?” “As I like to say, it all ends up in the same place, so why does it matter what you eat first,” he says with a massive grin on his face. Y/N giggles and digs into the frozen treat. She eats some more of her ice cream before talking, “Rafe is doing cocaine.”

“Rafe… as in your ex, that Rafe?”

“Yeah, I saw him doing it at the party and we got into an argument. He knows how I feel about drugs. I can’t believe he would turn towards it.” 

“I can. I mean, I don’t condone it but I can understand why. When I was doing my A-levels, my brother died and I turned to alcohol. I know the pull he feels towards anything that could make him forget,” he begins to explain. “It isn’t healthy how we choose to forget about our problems, but I know how much he must have been hurting to decide to use the drug. You have to understand that he isn’t doing it to hurt you though, he’s doing it because a part of him is hurting.”

She can see the vulnerability in Cole’s eyes and reaches over the centre console to give him a hug, “Thank you. It made me feel better, but I just can’t help but feel guilty about being the one to cause him the pain.”

“I know, but I also know that you didn’t mean to hurt him. Whatever reason you have for breaking up with him, you thought you were doing the right thing. And this may come off as a little selfish, but if you didn’t break up with him, then we wouldn’t be in this car right now. So I am very grateful for that,” he whispers, bringing his face closer to her. She smiles at him and closes the gap between them. 

——

Rafe had made the poor choice of driving while he was high; all he was focused on was getting back home and away from her sad expression. His family was away for the weekend, so it was only Blythe waiting for him to get back. He enters the house with a loud bang coming from the front door. He stays at the front entrance and paces around the room. His hands run through his hair, tugging at the end of the strands. Blythe comes down the stairs wearing just his t-shirt, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” she asks, walking over to him. He turns at her with angry eyes, “Everything is fine, Blythe.” She places her hand on his bicep and rubs it soothingly. “Really? You don’t seem to be.” 

Rafe harshly yanks his arm out of her touch, “I said that I’m fine, Blythe. Geez, why do you have to be so nosy all the time?” His words hold so much venom that she doesn’t miss it. She goes up the stairs and turns back towards him halfway up. “I can see you are hurting right now, but it is no excuse for you to take it out on me. Come find me when you are done being so angry.” With that, she continues back upstairs to their bedroom. Rafe lets out a scream and punches the door near the archway that leads to the family room. He stares at the hole his fist left and makes another one beside it. 

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you @winterrrnight @maggiecc @magicwithaknife @loves0phelia @jiarapamuk

[esteemed-excellency]

thinking about this again. all that red shouldn't be visible

(x)

[neverwalka1one]

Magnus Protocol 25 - the one I incorrectly thought was labeled Gorging/Incest at first glance, so at least there isn't that.

Saying a quick prayer that it's not plant people, I need a longer break from plant people

Whoop Celia has been yoinked onto some random roadside again. ... Though. Why does she always have her phone? Is it like the tape recorders? Is it because it's a listening device and whatever it is that's listening in is also doing the yoinking?

'That's why we're being safe' Sam. Sam, you are being the opposite of safe or subtle. But go off, shrimp king.

Sam and Alice laughing together, that's nice. I doubt we'll get to keep it, but that's nice.

The editor's complaining voice is very much pissy!Martin Blackwwood and I have missed it so omg I need to go re-listen to some Magnus Archives where Martin is letting someone have it.

Ominous violin music while describing the alleyway does not suggest good things are coming in this diner, no.

Tragically, the 'Green Pig' cafe does not seem to exist (or my google-fu sucks), I was trying to see if it was near the OIAR.

Jonny is showing off his linguistic chops here with the food descriptions, that is foul, thanks ever so much. I'll just be over here checking every burger bun ever again for bugs. Eugh. And the sooooooooup.

More Sam and Alice being adorable, yeah, we're definitely not going to get to keep this.

Colin! You live!

It is remarkably easy to buy a hammer in central London.

So three PC monitors smashed. Coincidence? maybe. But wouldn't it make sense that whatever this is would be more in the servers than anywhere else? But Colin should know that, he's IT. The monitors would just be the interface. IDK, it's a weird choice, if I wanted to kill a computer I wouldn't crack the screen.

Lies, four monitors smashed. Hmm.

Shrimp king is not afraid to get in a fight, noted.

OIAR's mental health policies: A blank page

... Nope, three monitors and a server rack. ... So this fight went on for a bit? Alice and Sam chasing Colin down the hallways? Celia missing all the fun? (hey fic writers, c'mere, I wanna talk)

Sam? Sam. My dearest of shrimpy princes. In what reality do you think your government boss who has monsters in her employ is going to just spill her secrets because you decided to take a vote? This isn't the Institute and that's not Elias gloating over a win.

And Celia is, in fact, out in the boonies. With the phone.