#so i named rosie after a breed of rose

[janearts]

Roisia Lydgate: Character Overview

This is really more of a background introduction to her character, but I'm trying to put as much information in one place for future reference or for anyone who wants to get a better idea of her character. Details underneath the cut!

Meta-Knowledge

Roisia is my Source Hunter from Divinity: Original Sin, but I recreated her in Baldur’s Gate 3 as a way to continue her story albeit in a completely different universe. The story and events of DOS have since become part of her backstory, and tweaked to fit the world of Faerûn.

Name Pronunciation

I’m honestly none too fussed about pronunciation. Her name is an 11th century mediaeval name that would later become “Rose” in Middle English. Roisia is probably meant to be pronounced something like /ɹɔɪːsiːɑ/ (Roy-see-ah) based on other name variants found around the same time. Her nicknames, as given to her by her parents, include: Rose, Rosie, petal, pet, rosebud, bud, so on and so forth.

Personality

Roisia is charming, adventurous, with a voracious curiosity, and a deeply analytical mind. She believes that taking care of the dead and providing a voice for the dead is her life’s calling. She was formerly raised to be a Cleric of Kelemvor, but believes that her god has disowned her since she reanimated her father. She now believes herself to be deemed among the Faithless. She’s compassionate to those in need and is willing to break rules (and the law) to help others. While she is generally a law-abiding citizen, she is dogged in pursuing the whims of her curiosity and will likewise do whatever it takes to solve a puzzle, a mystery, or a murder… or simply answer a question that has occurred to her. She is sociable, prefers when everyone gets along, and will try to talk her way into and out of most situations. This includes charming, reasoning, intimidating, and/or deceiving others to get her desired outcome. Ultimately, she finds solace and comfort in the company of animals, the dead, and books. Her favourite animal is the noble spider, and she breeds and raises some species in her spare time.

Spells and Such

I tried as best I could to replicate Roisia’s DOS character. In DOS, she was classed as a Witch. Witchcraft spells in DOS are a mixture of Necromancy spells and Enchantment spells, and I chose my spells in BG3 to imitate the ones that you get in DOS. As a witch in DOS, Roisia also had the ability to talk to animals and summon a spider. (I cheesed this in BG3 with the Find Familiar spell—technically a Conjuration spell—and having her drink a potion after every long rest.) To be more in keeping with her backstory, I gave her a Guild Artisan background and invested skill points in skills like Medicine.

Backstory

Roisia grew up in Eastway of Baldur’s Gate. Her father worked in the Gray Harbor shipyard as a shipwright and her mother was a Mortarch, running the Eastway Cemetery & Lydgate Funeral Service. She was raised to follow in her mother’s footsteps as a Cleric of Kelemvor, and specifically as a Mortarch, from an early age. She assisted her mother in managing the burial customs and rites for the Lower City’s diverse community (from embalming to ritualistic cannibalism to poisonings), comforting grieving family members of the deceased, and tending to the dead buried in the cemetery.

Her life took an unexpected turn when her father drowned during a sea trial. Grieving for her father, Roisia made her first attempt at Necromancy. She unwittingly used a wish spell in the process and reanimated him as a skeleton. Because it was the wish spell, not her first attempt at a necromantic ritual, that bound the soul of her father to his bones, Roisia is determined to master the School of Necromancy and truly resurrect her father.

She is interrupted in her early studies by the appearance of Eustace, who recruited her into the Source Hunters, an organisation dedicated to eradicating dangerous magic users (like… Necromancers). “We need you,” he said. “… and you need us.” Roisia & Eustace (or Roy & Stacey as they became known to each other) investigated the mysterious murder of a town counsellor and uncovered a Necromantic cult in the process. As they adventured together, Roisia began to develop feelings for Eustace, but as their adventure concluded and they returned to the Source Hunter Academy, Eustace did not return those feelings. Dejected, Roisia left the Source Hunters and returned to her home in Baldur’s Gate.

To “cure” herself of her heartbreak, Roisia drew up a list of lifelong goals for herself. They are:

1. A cemetery or plot of land of her own to oversee. 2. “Tenants”/”Residents” (aka The Deceased) to house and tend to on this land. 3. To master Necromancy such that she can extend indefinitely her own life and the lives of her loved ones. 4. One (1) Spouse (*not of the squeamish variety) 5. Children (*ideally 3-5)

Refocused aggressively on her list, Roisia returned to her duties during the day and her studies during the night. She was abducted by the nautiloid one night while she was off to dig up a new test subject.

Playlist

[thewonderingstars]

Working on Buck's backstory. Half-Orcs live in nomadic tribes, mostly because of their ancestry. It's how you remember them. Walk the paths they did. Do the things they did.

Anyways, Buck's clan was married into another's after their tribemother lost her husband. Buck quickly realized that only his new bride was much younger then he was; they elders arranged the marriage fairly quickly. Bonica's tribe was fairly small and the elders feared extinction.

Poor thing barely had time to process what had happened before she was married off again. Bonica and Buck's wedding night was basically him consoling a teenager over the death of her best friend.

[littlefreya]

August’s Box of Mystery

Summary: He left you all alone in his great castle by the sea and requested that you shan't touch yourself... can you keep your loyalty?

Prompted by @gotnofucks: “How do you feel August would react to knowing his girl uses sex toys when he is away? Would he feel jealous? Angry? Turned on?More importantly, what does he do? 👀”

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (No description of ethnicity or body type)

Words: 3k

Warning: 18+, smut + romance and fluff in the end. Female masturbation with a sex toy, voyeurism, sex-tape, cockwarming, mildly rough unprotected sex, breeding, breeding as punishment if to be exact, slight denial, MaleDom, creampie, a lot of it. Read the warnings properly, please. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or parts it and claiming it as your own.

A/N: I am anxious about this one and hope you’ll enjoy, i’ve been rather influenced by Angela Carter writings. Many thanks to @the-soot-sprite @wondersofdreaming for feedback and @agniavateira for her review. Added notes and credits in the end!

Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

August’s Box of Mystery 

Outside the bedroom window, the waves roared in a tempest's rage. Torrent after torrent, the sea unleashed brutal tentacles onto the salty iron rocks in a keen, vindictive urge to dismantle them to nought. 

It was your own unruly longing that the ocean sensed: forlorn and listless, lying on your bed, the blue mist cloaking your heart. 

August's sea-fort was a gilded cage. He had given you everything: diamonds brighter than the moon, sheets made of the softest golden silk, and even a ring to bind you to his unbreakable siege. 

His only demand was that you will always wait for him, not only by flesh but soul as well. Despite his dark ambitions, trust and loyalty were qualities August valued beyond anything else.   

But soon, you grew tired of watching the reflection of the tides refract upon the naked ceiling. A woman with fire for blood, you were forever tormented by your sultry nature and daydreams of that would make the devil blush.

Frustration gnawed at your bawls until—enough! You shot up from your bed—a storm of silky linen whirling around you like Venus emerging from spume on shore; and just as the goddess of love and beauty, you too yearned to be penetrated. Nibbling your nails, you glanced at the open door, your mind seeing beyond thick walls into his office where he kept a chest filled with illicit delights. 

Every now and then—when August's muse struck—he would bring one of his toys to the bedroom, but you weren’t allowed to play on your own. 

Body. 

Soul. 

‘Certainly, August won’t be able to tell if I would be careful?’ You hoped and followed the oceanic breeze hymning from the corridors.

Sand stuck to your bare feet, the wooden planks gently wept beneath your stride. Tipping on your toes, you snuck into his cavernous study, the key stolen from his nightstand already seized between shaky fingers. Though August was absent, your heart thrummed with ire upon setting foot onto the furry rug, as if he was to appear behind you at any given moment.

It was a room that reeked of debaucheries of all kinds: "borrowed" works of art depicting naked nymphs adorned the cherry-wood shelves, divine entities hung onto the wainscoting, and trophies he kept from his victims were encased in a fancy vitrine. Even the slate-blue view felt different from this spot; the rocky piers seemed like a pathway to a marine graveyard.

You paid no mind. You knew who you married and gained nothing but ethereal bliss whenever August fucked you against the window for the shark and whales to see. 

Like a girl crawling into the rabbit’s hole, you took half a twirl. There, below the large monitor plastered to the wall, stood the locked chest. Black and gold roses ornamented its exterior and a trident crest was engraved on the lock. Only a fool would overlook such blatant temptation, and though you were no foolish girl, you were feeble at the face of seduction. 

Falling to your knees, you made haste to unlock the chest, your heart drumming in your ears with the notion that you defied the words of your strenuous lover. But the same muscle that pumped you with fear, pounded wickedness into your blood. 

If only you were blessed with a shred of your husband’s patience.

All the toys inside were placed in order, sanitised, and appropriately boxed in such fashion that you knew August would notice if something was misplaced. The man had the capability of finding an eyelash on the carpet. Still, unrelenting desire strung the cunning finger you ran over the loot, carefully picking one of the familiar vibrators he used on you before. 

'Here?'  

Standing at the centre of his tidy office you contemplated, suddenly aware of how the room leaked of his entity; scented notes of old leather binding and his woodsy cologne threatened to adhere to your skin, making this mischief taste like a crime. It was best to keep all disobedient whims in an isolated location, you assumed and allowed your eyes to further drift and glide upon the large monitor and the antique desk where August kept the remote. An abrupt wicked idea swam into your mind, reminding you of his private collection. 

Catalogued alphabetically, he kept them on his streaming device. 

'It should make things quick...' you convinced yourself whilst nibbling on your bottom lip. How worse could it be, anyway? You already rummaged through his chest. Taking a gander at his not-so-secret directory was puny in comparison. 

With your lungs in fists, you slipped your panties to your ankles and settled on the cosy leather chair in front of his desk. Ignoring the red flag waved by your anxiety, you reached for the remote and clicked the button. 

August made no effort to hide his recordings, simply naming the directory as "Films," as if it contained ordinary Hollywood blockbusters. Impatient, you scrolled down the list, trying to keep the jealousy from simmering in your bawls. August wedded you in this fort, but he never captured you on film like he did his girls. All lovers from the past, of course, but still it almost irked you; yet you brushed these concerns away and picked a file with the name you liked most and pressed “play”.

The ocean's lament was instantly swallowed by guttural howls and grunts that took every empty space within the chamber. Before your flaring eyes appeared the most forbidden of spectacles— your husband taking a different woman. It was odd to hear the familiar timbre of his groans laced with the voice of another. It was even stranger to sense the unmistakable spark of desire jittering in your cove.

Poseidon himself could not compete with the glory of the man, naked and drenched, all muscles and might. Furious, he took her on her knees, his fingers cradling her skull, pushing her head to the pillows while restraining her wrists above the small of her back. She wasn't you and still you clenched, aroused by the sight of the sweat glistening the fur of his torso and by the lack of mercy in the violent motion that ended with the dutiful grind of his sac against her swollen lips. 

You hadn't even realised how shamefully you dripped upon the oxen leather of the seat, your thoughts focused on the odd mixture of envy and lust that penetrated your blood. 

Desperate to unleash the monstrosity building within your core, you spread your legs over the desk and pressed the toy between your slippery petals. A shuddering whine rode your breath at the brush of the buzzing device, the pleasure so unimaginable it nearly drowned your senses. Gasping, you fought to maintain a hooded gaze upon your lover and his ‘whore,’ and imagined that the rosy silicon phallus that entered your anticipating hole was his swollen cock.

Your walls quickly clenched around the toy in true longing while the window trembled under the muffled rumbling of thunder. Perhaps your passions thickened the clouds. Or maybe it was the immoral streak of ecstasy laced by danger. Whichever it was, it urged you faster toward imminent bliss.

The other woman’s moans entwined with yours while your wayward hand mimicked the rhythm of bodies slamming together in the same frantic chaos that swept you.

Sweat-riddled, your ankles lost way across the smooth surface of the desk, leaving oily markings in a frenzy as climax drew close.  

‘Almost…’

‘Almost…’

‘So close…’  

‘August!’

"Enjoying yourself, my little princess?" 

Lightning painted the room bright purple, announcing the thunder that tore through the ocean. It wasn’t half as frightening as the low timbre of his voice, which cruelly withheld your ecstasy. The fervour in your veins turned glacial; one moment you ascended to the heavens and the next, got rejected at its golden gates. All the while the growls of his reflection on the monitor echoed through the chamber along with the buzzing toy still buried inside you.

It granted no pleasure now, but further stretched the guilt.

Calm and forebodingly stoic, August reached a curious hand between your quaking thighs, seizing the toy and flicking the switch off. Unable to lift your gaze to meet his severe face, you struggled to swallow and kept your eyes glued to the monitor. Yet, there was no escape from his reflection—the “real” him present in the room peered back at you through the glassy screen. Standing behind you, he etched his fingers around the headrest of the chair and tutted. 

“Do you like watching me with others, sweetling? Did this video make you wet?” he asked curiously.

Before any words formed on your quivering lips, his hand fell to your mound. An intrigued “hmm,” flowed from his throat as he found you overflowing with arousal. Like a whore, you couldn’t help but squirm into his touch, your body still enraged of being denied pleasure, and so was the sky that now threatened to turn the ocean upside down. 

You nearly gasped at the heavy patter of rain that began to hit the window. 

“I…”

“Disobeyed me,” he completed the sentence, his voice mellow and pleasant though the caress of his breath on your face burned.

“...missed you.”

Your attempt to pacify him did not go unnoticed. Lips stretching to a slanted grin, he dared to replace the toy with two fingers that drove inside your gaping hole—sensing how you wrapped and suckled around his long digits like a carnivore plant.

“Such a sweet gesture,” he retorted, “and still, my love, my dear wife who I’ve given everything to, has defied me like a lawless brat…unable to wait for her husband to return from his very important meetings.” His dainty fingers pumped crudely deeper, not to please you but remind you who you belonged to. 

Writhing in your seat, you fluttered your eyes shut. “Where were you?”

Ignoring your question, he leaned down, his lips mere inches from your ear and whispered, “I think it’s time I’ll tame my bratty woman for good, don’t you?” 

You shuddered to think what punishment he had in mind, your heart sinking to a dark pit at the deadly kiss he offered next to your ear; but then, he took your wrist and in a surprising tenderness guided you from the chair to bend over the desk. 

Predictably, the movie had run its course and started again from the beginning, her promiscuous moans and the pounding of their flesh stealing your attention for a split second. 

Having you at a disadvantage, August drew an invisible line from your spine to the curve of your behind, his fingers mimicking lines drawn on soaked sand. “All this sea salt in the air around us and your skin is still so tender,” he murmured lovingly and secured a hand around your nape, holding your head forward. 

It excited you to watch them before and now with his groin hot and hard against your bare crease you were nothing but craving his cock. 

“Is this going to hurt? Will you spank me? Treat me like that whore on your film?” you asked naively, smoothing your sweaty palms across the antique wood with dark anticipation. 

“No, my beautiful angel.” his belt clicked and dangled like a set of heavy keys of a warden toying with his captive, “You are not my whore, but my wife. Which is why I’m going to put my child in your reckless womb to end your wicked ways once and for all.”

A gasp of shock left your throat, dazed by his threat you turned to protest. But the air drowned in your chest and your entire body stiffened as August’s ‘leviathan’ split your succulent flesh. Vulgarly you were penetrated, his size stuffing you so deeply, you felt the aching pressure in the pit of your belly. 

August stilled for a moment, lingering at the sensation of your hot cove fitting around him in both a strenuous protest and the pathetic defeat in which your body seized the beast, milking it in an attempt to rope him into your womb forever. 

“Oh, my sweet wife, I will stretch your little cunt to sheath me that not even these toys will please you. You see, everything here belongs to me, even your defiant womb. And I will leave a piece in me there to teach you a lesson.”

“I don’t think I am ready!” You whined, but the thought of being bred and carrying his child made your cunt unwittingly twitch. Your canal sucked him even deeper if it was even possible.

August sensed your convulsion and growled, his hips pressed unfathomably tight against your rear, making your cheeks ache from the press of his bones. It was torture with the film playing right in front of you; falling into a lucid delirium, your mind replaced her with yourself, yet your August refused to move, withholding your pleasure, owning it, owning you. 

His cock anchored hot and thick inside you, its throb as powerful as the thunder hammering the ocean.

You wanted to cry.

“August, please! I need you! I missed you!” 

With a harsh pull, he drew back and bludgeoned your crease, his might so vulgar the tip of your toes levitated from the ground. Again, and then again… he grunted at the choke of your flesh around him. Paying you no courtesy, he shook and pounded you almost terrifyingly as meticulously as he did this woman. 

His fingers burnt around your waist, so harshly you thought you’d never be able to sense anything but his grip under your skin. 

“Oh!” fat tears rolled down your cheeks, your breath a wheeze. Piteously you crumbled onto the desk. Thunders, cries, sounds of rutting flesh, and grunts surrounded you in this cavern of sin; you didn’t know which were yours and which were from the recording. All you knew was that he never took you so zealously before, you were at the brink of either rapture or falling to the abyss.

“You’re too deep! Too rough!” you wailed, unable to adjust to his pace but truthfully you didn’t want him to slow down. Currents of bliss submerged your loins the rougher he fucked you. The hot tingle in your core stormed with every collision of his cock with your cervix.

August reached from your neck to your jaw then and held your face to the screen.

“You wanted to watch her while touching yourself. Do you want to be her?” he growled and increased the pace, splitting through your body the way Dagon ripped open the waves. 

Even if you had words, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. 

“You can never be her my darling,” August said and removed his hand from your hip. There was a quick drag of his drawer behind you and a rummaging sound. “Here, I’ll make us a short film; memorise this moment when you conceive me an heir.”

Struck by his words, you turned to stare. The sight of him behind you, inside you, was far more worthy than any film: sweat trickled down his messy curls and arduously strained face, his cerulean shirt damp and his mouth open as his fingers clutched the camera that was directed to the point where you were joint. 

Unrelenting, your orgasm flooded through every muscle like a wave of destruction that wrecked every organ within you until you felt nothing but bliss. You felt August’s heart beating in yours. 

There it was. Euphoria. 

You drowned in it. The maelstrom inside you swallowed and sank his ship as well. With a loud shout of surprise, he broke apart and erupted inside you, his creamy gift ploughing your womb until it overflowed and dripped down your quaking thighs. 

The rumbling from outside eased now, the clouded sky groaned with a release, their tears melding into the ocean never to be seen again.

August remained inside you, his breath thick, his hips gingerly grinding into yours to make sure his seed will take. 

“There you go, my special girl.” his voice came huskily. “Now you will never be alone, unlike these women I can’t even remember.”

Your hand instinctively snapped to your lower belly, soothingly caressing it in a reverie. You felt battered, full, and disgustingly and arousingly dirty as he swam inside you.

Yet the thought that he impregnated you made your heart flutter. 

Was there a more eternal symbolism of love than a legacy?

“August…” you whispered. Beneath you, the desk slightly shook, little tremors vibrated against the delicate pads of your fingers. Turning your head back, you offered him an enamoured glance and reached a hand in plea to lace fingers with his. 

His storm-kissed eyes softened and he broke into a sigh at the sight of his wife at her best submissive behaviour. The greatest of all delights was to refine a crude rock into a fine delicate diamond. Proudly, he took your hand in his, entangling your fingers together, yet he kept the video-camera aimed at your joint bodies. 

“Don’t move,” he breathed behind you and carefully pulled out his shaft from your flooded hole. A velvety chuckle played on his tongue, impressed by the wet plop and thickness of the cream that leaked off your entrance. Your cheeks burnt as you realised what he has done; your lips parted open to complain but then, with his cock already fully rigid and thick, he plugged you once more, shoving his seed back inside you.

“What are you doing?” 

“Waste not, my angel,” he tutted and remained still, brushing his knuckles up and down the curve of your rump.

“Oh, how long?” you whined, uncertain if you are capable of staying this way with him throbbing between your taut walls.

“Until the sky clear up?...” he suggested, voice haunted by lingering satisfaction. 

The waves of your previous orgasm were yet to ebb, and now stronger tides began to emerge. Frustration grew within once again and sadly, August’s will had the mettle of an anchor.  

“At least tell me where you were!” you yelped.

August scoffed, and wrapped his hands around your waist, only slightly guiding you back into his hips. “No, no, my love. Every marriage needs a little bit of mystery, as you’ve already learned. But now do me a favour,” he uttered and placed the remote next to your hand. 

“Play us another one? We might be here a while.”

Credits: Dividers by @firefly-graphics. Themes Inspired by Angela Carter’s Bloody Chamber. Leviathan inspired by @sillyrabbit81​!!

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or Mission Impossible.

[elysiadjarin]

Kill the Lights

Previous chapter: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/648130867354632192/kill-the-lights

Warnings: spice. Oh gods, the spice. 18+ only, minors dni. Smut, consensual, public sex, foreplay, sub/dom, light bondage, threesome or poly, cum play, unprotected sex (irl wrap it before you tap it please people be safe), breeding kink

4: Kitchen Kiss

“Hey Rose, there’s someone asking for you at the front, says he knows you.” Jay’s head poked around the corner of a spice rack.

I looked up with a blink. “Did he give a name?”

“Uh... something like that one reporter’s name. Brock?” He squinted.

“Oh, Eddie!” I dried off my hands. “Becca, could you take over for me for a minute? My boyfriend is out front.”

Becca raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but you’re telling me why you haven’t told me about having a boyfriend when you get back.”

I gave her a sheepish smile. “Ok ok, be back.” I kept my apron on and went out to see Eddie standing by the kitchen doors dressed in a pair of slacks and a button-down.

“Hey Rosy.” He smiled lopsidedly, his eyes a little tired.

I reached up to give him a hug. “Are you ok? You look tired.”

He hugged me back. “Yeah, I just got done with an interview. I have to go back home and work on typing it up.”

I pursed my lips. “I think there’s a bit of leftover pie in the fridge if you need a pick me up.” He’d moved in with me from his run-down apartment a week ago, and the arrangement worked out well for both of us. Anne and Dan had even helped Eddie move in, Anne ecstatic that we’d gotten together.

He sighed. “You’re incredible.” He gave me a quick kiss.

I patted his chest. “You’ve never visited me at work though, is there something else going on?”

He glanced over my shoulder. “Do you mind if we... step away?”

I blinked, then realized. “Oh! Right, here.” I led him over to the small locker room I had as head chef, closing the door. “Private locker room, perks of being head chef,” I explained. “What’s up?”

Eddie grimaced, then reached out for me. “He’s been-“

As soon as his hand touched me, I realized that it was Venom.

“He’s insisting he wants to be with you for the rest of the day.” Eddie pulled me closer.

“Well, that’s fine with me,” I said, a little confused. I’d bonded with Venom twice before, mostly just for the comfort of it, besides the one time we’d been... in bed.

“I told him you had work,” Eddie tried to apologize.

“It’s ok, really. As long as he stays out of sight I’ll be fine- well, to be honest most of my coworkers know I’m a Mutant anyway so if a slip up happens I suppose it won’t be the end of the world.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “It’s about to be dinner rush hour, and I have two hours left in my shift.”

He nodded. “If you’re sure.”

I smiled. “Why would I not be okay with it?” I laughed. “It’s my boyfriend.”

He chuckled slightly. “I’ll leave you to it, I’m planning to get at least half the report written up before dinner.”

“Sure, do you mind if I bring dinner from here tonight?”

“Nope.” He bent, pressing his mouth to mine.

I clung to his shoulders, feeling Venom start to creep down my neck and face, down my shoulders, worming into my shirt and down my torso. When Eddie let go, I gasped a little.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I breathed. Accustoming myself to the sensation of Venom wrapping himself around my hips, I gave him a distracted smile. I gasped and slapped my side as I felt tendrils slip under my bra. “Ven, I’m at work, stop it,” I hissed.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, shoulda warned you, he’s pretty... horny.”

I shook my head. “I’ll deal with it I guess.” I gave him another kiss. “Alright, I’m on the clock. See you tonight.”

He waved goodbye as I led him to the door, and I turned back to the kitchen.

Hello, Rose.

I closed my eyes briefly at the sound of his deep husk caressing my name. “Hi, love,” I murmured. “Missed you.”

Becca grabbed me. “Wait, whoa, that’s the Edward Brock, or I’m blind. He’s your boyfriend? How?” she demanded.

I smiled nervously. “Um, mutual friends... and he may or may not have saved me from being jumped in an alleyway-“

“Oh. My. Gosh.” She shook my shoulders. “What? Spill the tea, right now.”

I talked while we worked, shaking my head at her love of gossip. Still, I knew she’d keep the information private. Becca may love the tea, but she only ever kept it in the cup.

But even as we moved on to focusing on the customers pouring in, I kept getting distracted. Venom kept being active, taking advantage of my loose clothing and apron to hide how he kept wrapping around my hips. He crawled up my sides, sliding under my bra. His tendrils tightened a little around my breasts, and I had to pause and take a breath.

“Ven,” I hissed under the noise of a popping frying pan.

Been missing you all day, Rose.

I bit my tongue and tried to discreetly lean my elbows against the counter to hold myself up. Venom teased my thighs, barely pushing at my underwear. I’d already learned that needy Venom was... needy. Not that I exactly would complain, but still... I was at work.

Will be good. Just an hour and a half.

I almost snorted, glancing behind me. “We both know you’re not patient, love.”

Are you?

Well frick. An hour and a half of Venom being distracting? Anywhere but work and I would’ve been fine, but it was much harder to explain why I was flushed and weak-kneed to my coworkers. Still... I could try. Even if it would be a bit futile. But what else could I do?

I took a deep breath and walked over to check the desserts. Glancing at the clock, I wondered how slow it would creep tonight. Normally it seemed to go by too fast. Tonight, I wasn’t too sure.

“Rose, this icing isn’t setting right,” one of my pastry chefs groaned.

I poked at the bag. “Ratios all good?”

“Yep, I double checked.”

I sighed. “Try making a new batch? Maybe something in it isn’t good. Might as well be safe.”

She nodded and scrapped it, starting over.

I hurried over to another station as Becca waved me over. Fixing the issue, I’d just turned to tell Becca something when I choked. Venom slipped under my underwear, inching closer to my core.

“You okay, Rose?”

I nodded, covering my mouth. “Sorry,” I coughed, “something in the air I think.”

She handed me water, and I took a hasty sip. “Thanks.”

“Alright, first order’s out,” she said grimly. “We’re on schedule, thankfully.”

“I’d like to be ahead if possible,” I said ruefully. “But we’ll do the best we can.”

You’re wet.

I grabbed onto Jay’s arm as my knees went weak. Venom slipped a single tendril into me, teasingly sliding in and out. My entire body felt hypersensitive, Venom’s fingers teasing my nipples not helping in the least.

“Whoa, Rose, you good?” Jay grabbed me.

I winced. “Sorry, Jay. My knee is...”

“Hey, we’re doing just fine here. Do you need to go sit down for a minute? I know you get stressed sometimes,” he said, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

I nodded. “I’ll be back.”

“Take your time.”

I managed to make it back to my room and lock the door just as my knees buckled. Hand pressed against the floor, I moaned. He’d slid further into me, hands forming around my hips.

Is thirty minutes a record? Venom gloated.

“I’m at work,” I complained, trembling. Everything felt so sensitive. “Did something happen today?”

Venom growled, and he abruptly pushed into me. I gasped, jerking, as he completely filled me in a way that made my stomach swell. His matter inside me felt so different from anything else, so satisfyingly full.

Mine.

“Yes,” I whimpered. “You know I am. But what-“ His thrust, decisive and possessive, cut me off.

Stupid guy saying you only want Eddie for money.

I staggered up and collapsed against my closet, trying to get my apron off. I knew I wasn’t finishing my last hour. Not after what he’d said.

“Ven, we both know I’m the one with money right now-“ My apron fluttered off into the hamper as my fingers clenched in my shirt. I barely managed to get it off, fingers trembling. “And other people are dumb. What- happened?” I managed, pitching against the wall as Venom thrust.

I gasped as he formed in front of me, tongue hanging as he drooled heavily. His hands appeared around my hips, tendrils peeling my pants off for me. His hips bucked against me, and his hands brought me down on him in a way that made my eyes roll up.

Doesn’t matter. Rose is ours. No one can else can do this to you.

I had to privately agree. Not without getting kicked, anyway. I’d probably get the full story out of Eddie. But for the moment, I could only focus on Venom’s thumb sliding down to press on my clit.

I tried to muffle my moan, pleasure sparking through me almost unbearably. Venom knew my body too well. Though he and Eddie felt equally good in different ways, something about Venom always reduced me to putty in his giant hands. As a switch, it was unbelievably satisfying to have Eddie flip my dom side and Venom control my sub self.

At this point Venom had to hold me up completely, pushing into me, pulsing and twisting. His mouth slid across my cheek, my jaw, down to my throat. Everything fuzzed, until all I knew was that he was hissing my name, muttering into my skin, talons wrapped around my hips with a gentle sort of decisiveness that made me completely melt. I gave in so readily under his touch, his claws raking softly across my skin to barely leave a mark.

I let out a shuddering moan, his name spilling from my lips. “Venom- oh, Ven.”

Rose is mine. Love my Rose. He purred.

My body kept teetering closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure steady and somehow increasing. I could barely think, barely do anything but say his name, over and over, beg for him. My fingers scrabbled at his chest, slipping against his matter, sinking into it.

His tongue lolled, drooling sloppily onto my chest and arms until it slid down my stomach only for him to lick it off. The moment his talon scraped across my clit again, I arched.

Venom snarled, low and deep in a way that rattled deep into me. He bucked one more time, and I could feel the familiar heat gush into me. He ground against me a few more times, prolonging my pleasure as I whimpered and fell against his chest.

Eventually he sank back into my skin, leaving me slumped against the wall, panting. I gasped for breath, my body still trembling with aftershocks. Venom, as always, had plugged me, keeping everything inside me. For once I was more grateful than usual, knowing that the mess would be difficult to clean up at work. Not to mention, I’d rather not walk around leaking everywhere.

I finally dragged myself up. I had to go home. Fumbling for my phone, I sent a text to Becca telling her that I had to leave because I wasn’t feeling up to snuff. Once I managed to gather myself enough, I pulled on my clothes and threw on my jacket. Grabbing my stuff, I quietly left the restaurant through the service doors and made my way to my car.

I slumped into the seat, unzipping my coat briefly. My entire body felt so hot, and I bit my lip as I felt Venom sliding around my waist again.

Going home to Eddie?

“You win, Ven,” I half-laughed, starting the car. “You got me.”

Eddie wants kids.

I swallowed. “What do you think of that, Ven?” I asked, driving home. My knuckles whitened around the wheel as I tried to keep my hands from trembling. My entire body still felt hypersensitive, and it wasn’t helping that Venom kept occasionally teasing my clit, edging me further.

The idea of children didn’t exactly scare me. I’d wanted kids of my own, but never thought I’d find the guy to settle down with. Though it broke my heart to think of Eddie or Venom leaving me, the idea of having a little one with both of them to cherish and raise was something I would jump at. Though, I hoped that neither of them would leave either.

Would never leave you, Rose. Venom sounded offended. We love you.

I took in a breath. “I know, Ven. It’s just... I can’t help it. It’s a fear.”

We want a kid with Rose. My kind reproduces asexually, but still need a good parent. Raise kids properly.

I pulled into the parking garage and parked, then pulled out the keys and leaned back, hand on the door. “We should talk to Eddie about it first, though, don’t you think?”

Eddie is afraid you’ll leave. Scared of having kids. Scared he will be a bad parent.

I smiled faintly. “Do you think we could change that?”

I think we can. A hint of lust laced his tone, and I swung out of the car.

“So, we agree on a game plan?” I began to walk toward the elevator, stripping out of my shirt and pants and zipping up my coat to hide my underwear.

He just answered with a chuckle, and I smirked. My switch flipped, and I licked my lips as I exited the elevator. For a brief moment, I was glad I’d decided to wear a pair of matching and relatively lacy underwear. I opened the door and let my clothes and bag slide to the floor.

Venom untied my hair, and I ruffled it with a murmured thanks. Kicking off my shoes, I reached up to untie my scarf as I walked into the office.

Eddie turned, looking surprised to see me. “Rose? I thought you still had a while to-“ His mouth dropped as the coat slid off my shoulders to pool on the floor.

I pulled the scarf off, then walked up to him in the chair. Using the scarf, I wrapped it around his shoulders and sat myself in his lap. Pulling him closer, I pressed a kiss to his neck as he grabbed my waist.

“I think Ven might have been too strong of a corruption for me, Eddie,” I murmured, sliding my arms around his shoulders. I pulled back to give him a pout, burying my fingers into his hair.

He sucked in a breath. “I- uh- I sorta thought he might calm down just being near you... guess I was wrong-?” he chuckled nervously. “Um- Rose, are you- mm.”

I cut him off with a kiss, my hand sliding down to his. “Eddie,” I murmured against his mouth, pulling his hand to my underwear. “I think your girlfriend isn’t quite full enough,” I suggested, making him sink his fingers into me.

He sucked in a sharp breath as Venom’s matter started to spill out of me around his fingers, puddling in his lap. He grunted, and I could feel his pants strain against me.

“Do you mind if I need a little attention?” I breathed, biting my lip as I sat up.

He licked his lips. “I... I do have work...” but it was weak.

I bent to kiss his ear. “But I really, really want you under me,” I whimpered. “Venom and I want to have your hands around my hips, buried inside of me.”

His breath stuttered. “You know I’m yours, Rose,” he said weakly, his voice turning into the submissive whimper I loved so much.

Venom took over me briefly, taking us to the bedroom. He got rid of Eddie’s pants and shirt, then melted up my arms as he settled me over Eddie’s hips. Venom left me to sink into Eddie, wrenching his arms up to latch onto the headboard, securing him to the bed.

I peeled my underwear off, ignoring how they were soaked through with black. It leaked down me, onto Eddie’s straining member as he bucked and grunted.

“Please- Ven- I want to touch her,” Eddie groaned, his eyes fixed on me.

I bent to kiss him, sliding my hands up his chest. “If you be a good boy for Rose and Venom tonight, Eddie, I think you’ll like what we’ve agreed on,” I teased, smiling playfully as I rocked my hips up.

He hissed, then panted. “I’ll be good.” He gulped as I brushed my fingers over his nipples. “I promise, Rose. Please, he’s been in my head all day and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Hmm, I don’t know...” I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “You did dump him on me at work.” I gave him a pout. “Don’t you know what Ven did? How he teased me at work for an hour before making me go to the locker room? How he pushed me against the wall and took care of me, reminding me that you were here at home?”

His hips strained against Venom futilely. “Please, Rose,” he whined. “I need it, please, I need you. We need you.” His dark eyes all but begged for me. “I’m so close already, please.”

I tilted my head and reached down, dragging my fingers across his length. It twitched as he hissed, and I pulled it up to tease it against my entrance. I smiled. “Oh? Do you want Venom to just slide it into me, so slowly? Hmm?”

He groaned. “Yes, please.”

Venom formed his body under Eddie, trapping him between me and himself. He still held Eddie captive, but reached his own hands up to start teasing my breasts. Eddie groaned, tortured at the sight.

“This isn’t fair,” Eddie groaned.

Venom chuckled. I had her at work today, Eddie. She was hot and wet and soft, and perfect. She kept saying my name, wanting me. His tongue flickered.

I squirmed for effect under his hands. “Hn- not my nipples, Ven- you’ve been teasing me this whole time,” I whined. “It’s my turn to play with Eddie. I want him.” I pouted.

His hands slid down to my hips and pulled me down into a kiss. I melted into Eddie’s body, moaning into Venom’s mouth. Eddie whimpered between us, squirming, trying to search for friction, for some sort of satisfaction.

Isn’t our Rose beautiful, Eddie? Venom growled, his tendrils sliding between us to wrap around Eddie’s length. His hands lifted my hips, clearly teasing my lips against Eddie’s throbbing, leaking length. His thumbs parted my lips, and thick, black tendrils crawled down to start teasing my clit.

I moaned, leaning back so Venom could control my hips. “Oh- yes, Ven.” I bit my lip. “Tease me with Eddie, please.”

Eddie moaned. “Ven, Rose, please. I can’t take much more.”

He can’t hold on much longer, Rose. Venom grinned, tongue wrapping around Eddie’s throat.

“But I love it when he begs, Ven. He’s so cute. Please tease a little more?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him.

His tendrils squeezed Eddie’s tip, then slowly rubbed the head against me. Make him cum inside you?

“Yes!” I reached down to lace my fingers in Venom’s, still wrapped around my hips. “Please, make him cum inside me. Like you did.”

Eddie gasped sharply. “W-wait- but I- I don’t have a condom on-“

And she’s not on the pill. Venom agreed, dipping Eddie’s tip into me.

Eddie’s wide eyes met mine. “Wait, if you put me in I- I’ll cum.”

And if Rose is okay with that? Venom asked, his fingers lacing in mine as his hands supported me.

Eddie stared at me.

I supported myself against Venom’s hands, teasing myself against Eddie’s tip as Venom’s tendrils held it up against me. “I want you to cum in me, Eddie.”

We talked, Eddie.

“What?” He sucked in a sharp breath as I slid his tip into me, feeling the stretch. “You-?”

She wants it, Eddie. Wants us.

“You want- you want it, Rose? I mean... you’re okay with-?”

I nodded, biting my lip and whimpering as Venom twitched against my clit. “Yes. I want you and Venom, Eddie. I want to try to have kids with both of you. I love both of you so much. I’ve always wanted a baby.”

Venom let me sink another inch onto Eddie, his fingers tightening around mine as I moaned. Eddie’s breaths were coming short and fast, his eyes rolling. I slid down onto Eddie all the way, until Venom’s tendrils on my clit were resting against Eddie’s pelvis. Eddie let out a broken moan, jerking as he moaned my name, over and over. Venom growled, and I bit my lips in satisfaction as I felt Eddie spill into me.

It wasn’t enough. Venom let me bend down to kiss Eddie, soft and deep. His hands held my hips tightly against him and Eddie, his tendrils wrapping around Eddie’s length still buried inside me.

“Oh- Venom- Rose- wait, it’s too- it’s too sensitive,” he cried, jerking. “No, stop, I can’t-“

I thrust a little, grinding my hips against him. Venom continued to tease Eddie’s tip, over stimulating him as he twisted and moaned. “Wait- please- I’ll come again-“

“It’s okay, Eddie,” I murmured, kissing him gently. “Cum inside me. Let me and Ven feel you cum in me. I want it. I want you.”

He let out a cry, his eyes welling as he bucked and jerked. He spilled into me again, sobbing out our names. Venom finally let him go, though I kept him buried deep inside me.

“Please don’t let it out of me, Ven,” I pleaded softly.

Will take care of you, Rose. Venom reassured, his thumbs rubbing my waist. He continued to tease my clit, keeping me sensitive and relaxed.

Eddie gasped, slowly recovering. “Rose-“

I kissed him. “I love you, Eddie. So much,” I murmured.

Venom let his hands go, and he immediately grabbed onto me. “Marry me,” Eddie blurted, kissing me fiercely. “Marry us, Rose.”

I gaped at him. “Wh-what?”

“Marry us. We want to have kids with you, want to stay with you forever. I love you, so much.” He searched my eyes.

I smiled brightly. “Yes! Yes, I will. I love you so much, Eddie.” I kissed him, then smiled at Venom. “And I love you so much, Venom.”

Venom kissed me, his tongue slipping into my mouth. Then he twitched my hips over Eddie. My turn?

Eddie nodded. Venom built on top of Eddie’s length inside me, making me moan as I stretched even further. All the semen inside me seemed to swirl, making me sigh in satisfaction. Something about Venom’s pure size, how much bigger he was than me, always made me feel so safe and satisfied.

“Are you okay, Rose?” Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, and he cradled my waist in his hands.

I smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. Ven- Ah!- feels so good.” I bit my lip.

Eddie, want to see Rose cum? See her filled with us? Get her... pregnant?

Eddie’s breath hissed between his teeth. His hands gently slid up, then cupped my breasts. His fingers nudged my nipples a little, his hands calloused but gentle.

“Yes,” he rasped.

I let Venom completely manhandle me, grinding my hips against Eddie’s as he twitched inside me. I whimpered. Eddie gently kissed me, his lips sliding against mine with a tenderness that didn’t match the way Venom rutted their hips into me. Each thrust kept making more semen trickle out of me, yet pushing it further into my womb.

I felt so full and satisfied, heat lighting all of my nerves. I half-sobbed, feeling myself creep closer to the edge again. “Venom, Eddie,” I cried, beginning to tremble.

Love our Rose. Venom purred, his tongue beginning to curl around my shoulder.

“We love you, Rose,” Eddie murmured, kissing my neck.

I felt everything inside of me clench as I came, gasping for breath. But Venom kept thrusting up into me, kept bringing my hips down to meet him. I sobbed around the pleasure, whining Venom’s name as I came. He growled and spilled into me one last time, making everything overflow in a messy puddle.

I sank against Eddie’s chest, feeling Venom retract to leave Eddie inside me. I tried to just breathe, coming down from my high. Eddie pressed kisses down my neck, holding me to him gently. Venom purred lowly, switching so he wrapped around both of us.

I leaned up and kissed Eddie softly, feeling his thumbs rub circles into my waist. Venom cuddled us both, bubbling contentedly over our skin. I giggled slightly as he traced patterns over my stomach.

Rose going to have a little one?

“I hope so, Ven,” I answered softly, running my hand down his matter.

Eddie turned us over onto our sides, curling around me. His hand splayed over my stomach, still buried inside me. “I can’t believe you... you want this,” he said wonderingly.

I smiled, cupping his cheek. “I’ve always wanted kids, I just didn’t know if I’d ever find the right person,” I confessed. “But you and Ven...”

He kissed me gently. “Thank you, Rose. I promise we’ll protect you, take care of you.”

I nuzzled into his neck. “I’m so happy I’ll get to be Rosemary Brock,” I said shyly.

“Sorry, Rose. I didn’t really mean to propose like this. I have a ring and everything, I just...”

I shook my head. “It’s okay, Eddie.” I smiled. “I’m so happy that I’ll get to marry you and Ven. I was a little scared,” I said, looking down at his chest. “I mean, I know that you care for me, but I... I didn’t want to lose either of you.”

“Never,” Eddie promised. “I love you with everything I have. I know I’m not the best man out there, Rose, and you’re... you’re too good for me. But I want to take care of you and have kids with you and Ven.”

“That’s all I want,” I whispered.

Venom nuzzled my shoulder. Ours, Rose. Always together.

“Always, Ven,” I promised back. “I love you. I’m yours, Venom.”

[carry-the-sky]

we drew a map to a better place

Two years after he comes back into her life, Frank asks Karen a question.

this is set in the same ‘verse as my kastle christmas fic, and it’s probably the fluffiest, most ooc thing i’ve ever written, lol. things are more than a little unsettling in the world right now, so writing this was a nice distraction from all of that. i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy, and i am sending my love to you all. <3 (the fic is also on ao3! special thinks to @ninzied for reading parts of this over!!)

He’s gone when she wakes up.

Frank’s an early riser. It’s not unusual for him to be out of the apartment before the sun is up, even on the weekend. Karen reaches toward his side of the bed out of habit, fingers sliding through empty air. The sheets are cold—he’s been gone for a while.

It isn’t until she sits up that she sees the folded up piece of paper on his pillow. She stares at it for a minute before her sleep-fogged brain registers that she should probably pick it up.

She recognizes Frank’s handwriting as soon as she opens it, and panic blooms in her stomach. Her mind jumps immediately to worst-case scenarios—his cover as Pete has finally been blown, someone's coming after him, he needs to leave town—

Her eyes skim the first lines. First things first, don’t worry. I’m fine.

Karen huffs a laugh, relief flooding through her. He knows her too well. She keeps reading.

Thought we’d try something different for our anniversary this year, maybe take a trip down memory lane. I’ve hidden a few more letters around the city—you remember the place we met to talk about a certain ex-NSA analyst?

 Frank

 P.S. Bring Lucy.

Karen blinks. She reads the letter again, digesting each word. He’s sending her on some kind of scavenger hunt—that explains where he’s been all morning. It’s an unexpectedly soft surprise, and her heart clenches in her chest.

There’s a thin whine from the other side of the room. Karen glances at the clock on the nightstand—it’s a little after eight, which means she slept in longer than she usually does.

“Sorry, Luce,” she says, sliding out of bed. After adopting Lucy, they had initially tried to sleep with her at their feet, but after multiple nights of her attempting to claim Frank’s side of the bed, they decided to buy her a dog bed for their room.

Lucy is curled up, but scrambles to her feet as soon as she sees Karen.

“Morning, girl,” Karen says, planting a kiss on the bridge of her dog’s nose. She slips into her robe and grabs Lucy’s leash and collar from the hall closet. They’ve been in the new apartment for over a little over a year, and it’s finally starting to feel like home. It’s a bit smaller than her last place, but it’s closer to Frank’s work, and there are no breed restrictions.

It’s far from perfect, but it’s theirs.

Once outside, Karen walks Lucy over to a small patch of grass. It’s unusually warm for this time of year—most of the snow that blew in over a week ago has melted, and the sky is a bright, cloudless blue. It’s a perfect day to be out and about in the city.

“What’s your dad up to, huh?” she asks Lucy, ruffling her ears. Most of Frank’s letters must be within walking distance of their apartment, because he’d told her to bring their dog along. Karen pulls up a mental map of their neighborhood, trying to determine which locations might be fair game—

She smiles to herself. It’s a welcome change of pace, using her investigative skills for something a bit less heavy than her work. That must have been one of Frank’s goals in setting this up for her. Her stomach churns with familiar anticipation, the thrill of chasing down a lead. At least she knows that something good is waiting for her at the end of this one.

Thirty minutes later, she and Lucy have both eaten breakfast, and she’s changed into comfortable walking clothes. They set off in the direction of the harbor.

The area is just as she remembers it. She rounds a corner and sees the two benches, and she stops for a moment. It feels like a lifetime has passed since the two of them were here—she had just found out that he was alive, and David Lieberman had him scared shitless. The thought makes her smirk. Frank has told her stories from their time spent living out of the bunker, and she knows that he now considers David one of his closest friends. So much has changed.

Lucy is eyeing a few seagulls that are perched near the water, but she comes when Karen gently tugs at her leash. There are a lot of places to hide a letter here, but Karen’s fairly sure she knows where it is. She crouches down, peering beneath the closest bench—

And sure enough, there’s an envelope taped to one of the legs.

Karen’s stomach does a pleasant little flip as she opens it and pulls out the piece of paper within.

Step carefully, the letter reads. And keep the coffee coming.

It takes her a second to piece it together. Step carefully—New York is infamous for its sidewalk grates, but most places in the city have them. That’s not particularly helpful in narrowing down a specific location—but she does know a place that serves endless coffee.

Three blocks later, she and Lucy arrive at Rosie’s Place. The local diner is a five-minute walk from Frank’s work site, and Karen has lost count of how many times they’ve met for lunch here. There’s a large metal grate leading up to the entrance, and Frank is always giving her a hard time about having to navigate it in her pumps. The infinite amount of free coffee refills makes up for that.

For a moment, she pictures another diner. She pictures Frank, bruises smudged below his eyes and the low rumble of his voice.

Karen shakes her head, and the memory dissolves. Now that she’s here, she’s not sure where to start looking. She and Frank have a corner booth they usually try to snag, but that doesn’t seem like the best place to hide a secret letter. There’s no guarantee that someone else wouldn’t find it first. Maybe he left it with one of the waiters? They’re on a first-name basis with a couple of them. It wouldn’t hurt to pop inside to check. Karen glances around, looking for a place to tie Lucy’s leash—

She stops, looking down at her dog. He told her to bring Lucy along for a reason.

Rosie’s has a small outdoor sitting area, used mostly for happy hour when the weather is warmer. Karen makes her way over to it. It’s empty now, but she notices a small water bowl by one of the chairs. Of course—she’d forgotten that the outdoor space is dog-friendly.

Lucy noses the bowl, then tilts her head, tongue lolling out of her mouth in a classic pitbull smile. “What’d you find, huh?” Karen asks, tucking a finger under Lucy’s collar and scratching at the soft patch of fur there. She lifts the water bowl gently, retrieving the envelope that has been tucked under it.

Still think I can rock a hipster beard? Look for a familiar face.

Below these words, there is a sketch of roses in a window.

She has no idea who the familiar face is referring to, but the hipster beard and roses—it’s her old apartment. He’s taking her to all the places that mean something to both of them, pieces of the city that represent the different facets of their relationship. After he came back from the dead that first time, her apartment was where she decided to help him. Even before he pulled out the roses, she knew what she would do. He was okay, he was alive—she would’ve done anything he asked to see him again.

Karen takes the long way there, sticking to main streets. The sun is warm on her skin, and she allows her thoughts to wander. Until now, she hasn’t really stopped to consider where all of this is leading, but her gut is telling her that it’s something big. She doesn’t want to get ahead of herself—she knows that Frank loves her and is committed to her, but she’s honestly never considered the possibility that marriage is something he might want again. Their life together isn’t a replacement for the one he lost, but those wounds run deep.

Karen crosses the street, and the apartment comes into view. The building looks different, maybe because it’s not her home anymore. Lucy sniffs the air, and Karen remembers with a pang that this is where she first found the dog, hungry and cold. It’s where Frank found her too, the night of New Year’s Eve. Karen gazes down at her dog fondly. She isn’t sure exactly how old Lucy is—there’s no way of knowing how long she was out on the streets—but in many ways she is still a puppy, all energy and innocence. Karen’s never been the parental type, but she thinks she’s maybe starting to understand it now. She would do anything to keep Lucy safe.

Dogs aren’t allowed in the building, so Karen knows that the letter can’t be inside, and Frank wouldn’t have left it in her old apartment if there was a new tenant. That must mean that it’s somewhere near the complex itself. She peeks down the alleyway where they both found Lucy. It’s too exposed—there’s nowhere to leave a piece of paper without it either blowing away or being seen by someone else.

Karen eyes the fire escape warily. It does seem like the type of place Frank would leave a secret note, but there’s no way she can climb it with Lucy—

That’s when she spots a poster taped to the side of the building—a poster of Foggy Nelson’s face. It’s from his campaign for District Attorney, as an official candidate this time, not just a write-in. Business at Nelson and Murdock has really taken off, but he’s been talking about making this career change for a while. Foggy is already a kickass lawyer, and Karen can only imagine the good he would do for the city in a position of authority.

She beams at his poster. He’s wearing one of his fancy suits, and he looks so professional—Karen can’t believe he’s the same goofy, shaggy-haired guy who introduced her to Josie’s and spent a night drunkenly wandering the city with her. Now that she’s looking closer, she sees the corner of an envelope sticking out from behind the poster. “Thanks, Fog,” she says, tugging it open gently.

Remember where you said you wanted an after for me? Meet you there.

Karen drags a thumb across the words, her heart painfully full. There was a time when she thought he had chosen the war for good, when she thought that the next time she saw him would be his face on the news, or in an obituary. He deserved more—she knew it, but she couldn’t force him to see it. He had to make that choice for himself.

It wasn’t an easy one. Karen knows how hard it is to live with your pain, tread its waters instead of drowning in them. But they’re both here, making that choice every single day—together.

Lucy barks, eager to keep walking. She looks hopefully up at Karen, the distinctive heart marking over her eye shining in the sunlight.

“Okay, girl,” Karen says. “Let’s go find him.”

.

He’s standing by the railing with his back to her. She takes the opportunity to study him, the familiar slope of his shoulders and the way the thin breeze teases his hair. It’s grown out a bit, curling slightly under his ears.

The bridge looks different in the daylight. It’s still a striking piece of architecture, arcing toward the opposite harbor. Karen lets her eyes shutter, remembering the lights reflecting on the water, the soft press of his lips to her cheek. She thinks she knew even then—what she felt for him went beyond friendship, even if she didn’t have the words to describe it yet.

Lucy pulls at the leash—she must have seen him—and Karen blinks her eyes open. Frank is still looking out over the water, but he turns as they approach.

“Hey,” he says, drawing her in to kiss her on the forehead. “Was wondering when you were gonna show up.”

She elbows him in the ribs. “So I slept in a little later than I meant to. Sue me.”

“I know just the guys for that,” Frank mutters, stooping to give Lucy some attention.

Karen leans back against the railing. “So—I found all of your letters.”

“Not all of them,” Frank says, patting Lucy’s stomach one last time before standing. “You’ve had one with you the whole time.”

Karen frowns, instinctively checking the pockets of her jeans—but Frank couldn’t have known which clothes she’d put on this morning. Her gaze falls to Lucy. When she looks back at Frank, he’s grinning.

“No way,” Karen says. She kneels down, pivoting slightly as Lucy attempts to lick at her chin. “You’ve been holding out on me, huh?”

Her hand goes to Lucy’s collar, where a small heart-shaped locket dangles. She gently eases it open, and a thin piece of rolled-up paper falls out onto the ground. She opens it slowly.

Both hands, remember? Turn around.

For a moment, she forgets how to breathe. Something is taking shape in her chest, something warm and buoyant-bright, and she feels like she might burst if she holds it in any longer.

She turns.

Frank is down on one knee. He’s holding out a ring, a simple band broken by a white rose.

“Yes,” she says, without hesitating.

Frank blinks. His mouth hangs open, as if he’s unsure of how to make it form words.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” Karen swallows a laugh, shaking her head furiously. She clears her throat, attempting to rearrange her expression into something resembling calm. “Were you going to ask me something?”

Frank makes a sound that’s halfway between a grunt and a laugh. “Gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“What?” Karen says. “All I did was turn around like a normal person, and then I was absolutely silent. I said nothing.”

Frank is smiling again, and she thinks it might be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. He ducks his head, and his eyes are a little wet when he glances up at her again.

“Karen.” His voice catches on the word. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she breathes, and before she can blink, he’s moving. His arms slide around her waist and her hands bracket his face, and then he’s pressing his lips to hers. His mouth is soft and warm, and she doesn’t care that they’re in a very public place surrounded by strangers—none of it is real, nothing exists beyond the feeling of his arms around her, the taste of salt when she parts her lips and kisses him deeper.

Lucy has other ideas. She threads between their legs, wedging them apart slightly as if to say, hey, pay attention to me.

Karen laughs, rubbing her ears. “Yeah, yeah, mom and dad are making it official. It’s very exciting.”

She meets Frank’s gaze. His lashes are rimmed with tears, and it isn’t until he sweeps his thumb across her cheek that she realizes she’s crying, too. He slowly reaches up to grab her left hand, and she watches him slide the ring onto her finger. The white rose catches the light, as if it’s winking at her.

“I love you,” Frank says, brushing his lips against her knuckles. “You know that, yeah?”

Karen tips her forehead to rest against his, pouring everything into that simple touch.

“I was starting to wonder,” she says with a smile, and kisses him again.

fun fact: i actually based this off of my own proposal! it was fun to try and apply the same idea to frank and karen. thanks so much for reading! <3

[365days365movies]

February 21, 2021: The African Queen (Part 2)

Ah, Part 2! So, how are they doing at this point again?

RIGHT. Rapids. Well, let’s not navel-gaze, let’s see how they do! Check out the first part of the Recap right here to see how we got to this point!

Recap (2/2)

So they go over the rapids, which are basically just a short waterfall. It’s one hell of a ride, that’s for sure, and the two have some difficulty.

But even through that, they ride it out fine! More than fine, as they celebrate surviving the fort and the rapids. Rose lets out a kind of awkward “hip-hip hooray, and descends further into her adrenaline junkie fervor, saying the bullets were like mosquitoes. She, uh...she’s really getting into this whole thing, huh?

Charlie, meanwhile, is just overjoyed to still be alive, and embraces Rose in celebration. They have their own little twin rants about the occasion, and Charlie finishes it off with his own hip-hip-hooray! That’s followed by...

Well...OK then. Both of them seem taken aback by the kiss, and they brush it off as it nothing’s happened. But you can tell that things are different after this. And it seems like both of them are kind of into. Charlie, OK, I can sort of buy, but Rose has really started to experience a different side of life, and she’s embracing the SHIT out of it.

Doesn’t take them long to actually kiss in earnest, either, and they quickly succumb to their passions. Can’t imagine that they succumb completely, though, given Rose’s status as a woman of faith and all that. Either way, the two quickly legit fall in love. This is despite not knowing each other’s first names, goddamn. They finally start to refer to each other on a more personal basis, and they continue their journey down the river.

The two start to enjoy themselves, with Charlie imitating animals he sees down the river (the GIF up above is him imitating a hippo), and Rose laughs with a little snort that I will freely admit is adorable. But that’s cut juuuuuust a little short, when they hear and see what’s coming: more rapids.

And these are WAY worse than the other two, descending into a straight-up waterfall. Still, the boat makes it through, but not entirely undamaged this time. Propeller shaft is a little messed up, and supplies are limited. But Rosie, ever the optimistic innovator, manages to convince Charlie to give it a try, and to let her help.

And honestly...I’m digging their relationship. They’re EXTREMELY different people, but they’re also one of the best examples of opposites attracting that I’ve seen this month. And not only do they work together as a couple, but they LITERALLY work together to fix the boat! They weld a propeller together using makeshift bellows and a wooden fire on short, and the boat’s back to being river-worthy.

And the Ulanga River becomes the Bora, and elephants cavort along the shore...where the hell are they? Like, real talk, I’ve seen Nile crocodiles, elephants, hippos, babbons? Hold on, lemme look up these rivers while these two get assaulted by a massive swarm of mosquitoes, which looks unbearable.

OK, so considering that they’re in German East Africa, they’re probably going through Tanzania. And apparently, the river itself is a pretty common place to find all of those animals co-existing, as well as the largest population of Nile crocodiles in Africa, and a breeding ground for a bunch of bird species, like openbill storks and African skimmers...and can I take this cruise? Like, is there an option to go on a cruise through this area? ‘Cause I wanna. I REALLY wanna, goddamn. I would KILL to see this shit, I mean it. 

OK, well, moving on, the two make their way through a papyrus swamp, and they get badly stuck in the mud. They’re forced to make their way out of the reeds by getting out and literally towing it through the muck. Charlie does so, while Rose helps from above. 

But remember what I said about a lot of shit being in the water? Well, it’s time for leeches! Yay! Charlie seems to think that they’ve poisoned him, but that’s DEFINITELY not how leeches work. You wouldn’t know that, though, as Charlie starts to feel sick. Even so, they have to pull the boat through the muck onceagain, with Rose using a machete to clear the way.

But again, it doesn’t seem to matter, as a fever-stricken Charlie is convinced that the two of them are now permanently stuck in the mud, and that the two will die there. Rose seems to agree, and she prays to God once more, accepting their deaths, and asking for him to be merciful, despite their...weakness? That would seem to indicate that something may have been...consummated. Huh. Go figure.

But God’s not taking them yet, as the heavens produce not mercy, but torrential rain, which covers the giraffes, hippos, lions, and...I think those are puku? Common antelope species found around the river. But the rains also bring salvation, as the risen water level sweeps the boat out of the mud and onto the lake (which is fictional, by the way)!

But even now, after ALL OF THAT, it isn’t over yet, as the Königin Luise is on the horizon, about to spot them! They head back towards the reeds to hide, and narrowly escape. They decide to enact their torpedo plan at night, and spend the next few days making the torpedoes and cleaning the ship.

They argue about who’s going with the ship to take out the Luise, but they decide to both go, as they’d rather not risk losing each other if anything were to happen. They head out under cover of night and rain, and it’s then that something occurs to me...are they gonna make it out of this? Because swimming in a lake as big as this is no...oh, wait, never mind, the boat just sank. Shit.

Rose is lost, and Charlie’s found by the ship, who interrogate him under suspicion of being a spy for the British. He’s sentenced to death by hanging, immediately. And JUST as they do so, they find Rose and bring her to the ship. They embrace each other, but Rose is also interrogated by the “court” of sailors.

Rose, however, don’t give a FUCK, and just STRAIGHT-UP ADMITS THEIR PLAN! Holy shit, lady’s got balls. Charlie goes along with her, and the Captain (Peter Bull) is more intrigued than angry. But, y’know, not really gonna stop the whole “hanging” thing, now is it?

The two are lead onto the deck to be hanged. Meanwhile, the sunken The African Queen is still out there, submerged in the lake, with the torpedoes in tact. As they’re about to be hanged together, Charlie asks the ship’s captain to marry them, in ANOTHER ballsy move. Fuck me, I love this bullshit! Dumbest thing in the world, and yet I completely buy it!

The Captain, agreeing with me, actually does marry them as the nooses are tied around their necks. And that’s when Chekov’s boat is hit, and the whole thing goes down! HOLY FUCK!! Charlie takes the opportunity and throws off the nooses, and the two dive off the boat as the Königin Luise sinks entirely! The two, now married, swim off to the shore. And that’s it!

The African Queen! Another lovely film, with an ending that’s...abrupt as fuck, I’m gonna be honest with you. 

But I’ll get into that in the Review! See you there!

[lady-plantagenet]

A Bygone Era - Chapter 1

A fictionalised account of Isabel Neville’s life from the point of view of her and those close to her.

So far told through the points of view of: Anne Beauchamp 16th Countess of Warwick.

5th September 1451

As each gust of wind veered and swooped around the pointed turrets of Warwick castle, it would not surrender its strength before first claiming a tawny leaf from the hazel trees. The emerald blush of the castle grounds: the summer green that made the tableaux of the landscape ever more poignant just a few months ago, was now fading into a browner more lifeless hue.

Having seen twenty-five summers, the countess was hardly a young lass at the cusp of womanhood. Her half-sister Margaret was six years younger than she when she bore her first child, Elizabeth even more so. Labour was harder for those years past their first flowering. The pain in her back and hips seemed to sting her everytime she drew breath, her head felt uneasy on her shoulders as the exertion of the birth seemed to have pushed all the air out of her. However, there were none to pity her or lay at her feet praising her for the beautiful daughter she had just provided - the Earl of Warwick needed a son.

Even my wretched ladies seem less eager to attend to me. Especially Martha. She thinks herself above me now, for the whelp she bore her minor knight of a husband was a boy.

‘Jesus wept’ snapped Anne ‘may I not be washed and given a morsel of food or even the child?’

A tremble hit Martha and Agnes before they bound down the castle stairs, one with a washbasin nestled under an arm and the other clutching at a gilded platter. Not since she was a little girl had Anne raised her voice beyond a ladylike drone. Those two did not know that, hence the agitation.

‘Begging your pardon milady’ said a breathless Agnes while handing her some bread and salt and Isabel, rosy and clean from the nursemaid’s scrubbing.

Anne tilted her head letting her long auburn tresses fall over into the silver washbowl that Martha brought. While the labour of childbirth was scrubbed off her, she looked at the babe before her. Isabel slowly opened her eyes with a lack of enthusiasm so uncommon to a newborn babe. They were the phantasmagorical green of the turbulent sea.

A beauty that would rally the men of the field to pick up swords and fight god himself it was not.

Though not even an hour unto this world, Isabel’s fair face had no suggestion of roundness, but was a slender oval. The small mouth had a suggestion of full lips and the thin tuft of hair on her head appeared flaxen - though Anne knew it would darken to Richard’s chestnut brown in little time.

A beauty of ice instead maybe. A Despenser, Montacute, Beauchamp and Neville fit for a king or at least a duke who would be immensely drawn to those features, so like those of a statue. Let the golden haired, sky-eyed buxom jezebels catch the eyes of peasant boys and mercenaries. My Isabel shall rouse the very rose of Plantagenet with a face that only generations of careful breeding since the age of the conquest could produce. Because with these she shows herself a daughter of Warwick - and what man would not rally behind that?

At first Anne thought she could hear the pitter-patter of raindrops, but the sound grew sharper resembling a thundercloud heralding a Warwickshire late summer storm.

As the sound of the bailey’s gravel amplified the countess’ entire body shot up so fast that she could feel a surging pain through her spine. The kingmaker had arrived.

The years have proven that the lack of a heir did nothing to dull the earl’s affections for his wife. As he leaped from his horse in one refined movement and took Anne into his arms, she once more felt like a newly wed bride greeting her betrothed outside Bisham Abbey.

She winced as he roughly pulled her into a arduous kiss marvelling at how deliciously crude this gesture was in contrast to his previous elegant one. He may be an earl but he is also a soldier, and above that a man quenching his thirst after months on dry land. And how could he not? At just a couple of inches below his height and still lithe and thin after just moments of childbirth, Anne had the elegance of a water nymph. As Richard was stroking her cheeks he could not help but gaze in awe at the bonny eyes whose colour so much resembled the burnished emerald of her ancestral land.

‘My son how fare he?’ He asked with impatient excitement ‘A strong lad is he not?’

Anne’s chest tightened as if the gusts of wind from a few hours ago were filling her lungs like saltwater would a drowning sailor’s. It is my entire fault. I should never have told him I knew I was carrying a son. All mothers share the same musings about their firstborn, they can not all be right.

‘My Lord husband’ she began adopting a more formal tone ‘It is a girl and I have decided to call her Isabel after mother’

To her relief his smile reappeared. ‘How fitting. The second Lady Isabel Neville’

Anne looked noticeably confused.

‘Ah you do not know then? Isabel de Neville was the daughter and sole heiress of the Norman Geoffrey de Neville and wife of Robert Ritzmaldred a son of the Earls of Northumbria and Etheldred II’ he grinned ‘By the time Lionheart was crowned and fighting his wars in the foreign lands of the east, no one could then gainsay the Plantagenet dynasty so Geoffrey took the Neville name as his own to sit at the high tables of the Norman nobility’

Her husband was so taken up with his tales of Saxon princes and Gospatric of Northumbria that she had to lead him through the great hall and up the winding staircase like a mother hen guiding a sleep-heavy child to its bed. I have done this before she started to remember I was nine and he seven, and we were right here on those stairs. If truth be told my mother had invited Lady Alice to introduce her son as my betrothed in guise of a St Crispin’s day luncheon invitation. By then I have perfected my curtsey and broke the nasty habit of handling my skirts, so I was finally considered worthy of social presentation. They bid me go show him all around the castle grounds and I played hostess thinking I had merely gained another playmate - though he might not have been so easily duped. To think where we are now.

In her apartments Isabel lay satisfied in her cot having just received her milk and with Margaret and the nursemaid hovering over her dotingly.

‘Ah dear wife’ proclaimed Richard ‘it seems her and Margaret would make splendid companions - she had always wanted a sister’. With one small step he picks her up and kisses her on the forehead. The little girl giggled at that, her wide smile squeezing her cornflower blue eyes in satisfied lines.

Ah yes the bastard daughter. Richard’s little indiscretion. The newborn girl that greeted me at Middleham where we first appeared as man and wife, before all our sisters, John and dear Henry- could it really have been eight years past? It feels like just yesterday I buried my dear brother.

Anne became a stone statue as Agnes was at work binding her straight auburn strands into a china blue crespine whose cauls were covered in wide copper netting to complement her Burgundian gown. The dress’ saffron skirts were piercing beams of summer against the burnished autumn hue of the kirtle that latched tightly against her pert chest. The image of his darling wife rushing past the stony keep and into the courtyard seeming more woman than countess with her hair tumbling about her, must have made the earl’s heart wrench with delight for this sun goddess of a woman that he now possessed. I chose his favourite dress, but for that remark I shall choose the most matronly headdress - the one he hates. I shall take it off when he begs my pardon for all this inappropriate cooing over the bastard.

With the classic lack of concern customary of a pre-occupied magnate, Richard did not notice his wife’s minuscule act of defiance. Ever since the death of little Anne two years past, one of England’s greatest earldoms had burdened her husband with its great expectations. Ever since parliament declared her sole heiress over her half-sisters, Richard’s mind was constantly operating in tandem between the world before him and the world next morrow.

Thankfully he eventually sensed the tension surrounding him soon enough to act swiftly and pick up Isabel. The baby’s eyes that only moments ago seemed to lay frozen in her face, lit up with an excitement spreading throughout her whole expression, culminating in a joyful squirm as her father cradled her. Anne started to worry that the disappointment surrounding her sex had started to be rescepted by Isabel. She was now relieved to see the prevention of that.

‘Dear god Anne’ said Richard not tearing his eyes off Isabel ‘What a jewel you have given me’

The heartfelt display thawed the ice that previously had a hold over Anne’s heart as she let out a smiling sigh of relief that after months enraptured in the gripping power plays and intrigues of a royal court, Isabel did not disappoint.

‘As beautiful as her lady mother’ he continued before flashing a knight’s dazzling smile. A smile devoid of vulgarity and void of mummery. A smile so chivalrous that it belonged in Camelot.

He knows to appeal to my vanity the wicked man. Shame on him and his courtier’s tricks.

Before she could damn him further he gently tugged at the hem of her sleeves, bringing her close enough to folder her in his arms with Isabel. She made her peace. ‘Remind me, my sweet, what is the meaning of her Christian name?’ He asked

‘Pledged to God’ Anne smiled ‘As we all are’

‘As we all must be. The war against France has weakened our king. That shrew of a maid of Orleans has marked the demise of any chance we may ever have to hold true power in France’ he started complaining vociferously. And now he recommences. I find it passing incredible how nearly everything I say he takes as a prompt to indulge himself into one of his soliloquies. Today he bemoans England’s fortunes in “the useless war.” ‘... with any luck our recapturing of Bordeaux would at least render this war not a complete loss.’

‘I hear Talbot shall be leading the command. If Gascony were taken back that would bring glory to-’

‘The glory of the Lancastrian rose is of no concern to me Anne’ Richard interrupted suddenly ‘I need this wasteful war to cease so that my father may regain his men and deal with Percy once and for all.’

‘For shame my Lord husband! You mean to tell me you’re heart does not yearn for the chivalry of defeating the lily of France?’ teased Anne playfully ‘Does your heart not beat red for Lancaster and the quest of justice to fulfill their ancestral claims?’

Any other day Richard would respond to Anne’s coyness the way she liked. It was one of their oldest customs. A couple of japes would be passed back and forth always leading to him jokingly proclaiming her a disobedient woman while slowly lifting her skirts and punishing her as if she were an unruly wench eagerly accepting what punishment her lord sees fit. Today something was different and Anne admittedly felt a little more than hurt.

‘Nay wife. Red for the bear and ragged staff. The only cause I believe in. My father was right; this simpleton of a King is incapable of responding to our petitions. We are of royal blood and wardenship of the West March does make us far more capable of keeping Percy tenants in good support. If the Lancastrians of Westminster choose to preoccupy themselves with the lost cause which is the French crown I see no reason to continue blindly serving this line of usurpers.’

Anne froze. Though far from an emotional man, Richard usually delighted in being the cause of his own flights of fury. She would sit on the ledge by the solar windowpanes attentively as he would in his lectures damn half a dozen men and complain endlessly about anything between Beaufort’s incompetence and the treacherous Percys. The series after the Scottish wars was the most heartfelt.

Today’s sermon was delivered in a frigid manner devoid of any of the four humours nor spite. It was the discourse of a man already deep in planning

Choleric or not, Richard was ravenous, downing one slice of capon dipped in melted spiced butter after the other. His return was especially rejoiced by Cook Royce whose pregnant mistress’ cravings for the mundane poussin and squab had left him with no opportunity for great culinary creative expression.

The Goyart tapestries on the soot grey walls of the great hall have been changed for the richer and more sombre Flemish tapestries. Her favourite depicted a fair haired maiden lying sombrely on the juniper grass guarded by maned lions. She pointed her mirror towards the unicorn as if to reveal to him his own magic, though his horn did not reflect in the mirror like the rest of his comely face. Ah the scintillating nature of magic. God reveals himself in ways that elude most. She thought back to all the miracles she thought she had witnessed in her girlhood. Blue roses appearing in winter, the butterfly with transparent wings, even the draft and light from the glass window working in conjunction, turning her to the appropriate page and shining blue light upon the bible passage so her governess would not realise she was not attentive...

‘Ah yes, do you like them Anne? They were part of the Dowager Duchess of Bedford’s dowry, given to the crown in part payment for the dishonour that was her illicit marriage’ Richard said after finally lifting his head from the plate

‘The lady Jacquetta led quite a scandal’ started Anne ‘How is she fareing shacked up with her squire?’

‘Last I heard he was made Baron Rivers’

‘A fanciful title’

‘Still not one a mere country squire merits. I highly doubt it will ever bring in the income to sufficiently maintain the widow of Prince John in the luxury to which she grew accustomed.’

‘The luxury she grew accustomed to as the daughter of Peter of Luxembourg would prove to be the more insurmountable standard for Woodville to reach.’

‘What are you trying to say my lady?’ Richard began teasing ‘Do our English comforts no longer satisfy yours or the Duchess’ lofty needs?’

‘I only say, husband, that just as the Italian duchies are rife with classical art, bards singing dulcet tones and those technologies - whatever they would be, Duke Philip has his own cohort of artists and inventors. The ‘Burgundian School’ is so accomplished our very own John Dunstaple has joined their ranks...’ Richard’s fatigue was waning his attention until his wife stood up from the oak long table and spun around. The flashes of the yellow silk at the skirts extending out with each movement and encircling the amber coloured kirtle as if she were the sun itself come down from the heavens to grace and bring calm to her particularly agitated earl. ‘...and this.’ Anne finished referring to the Burgundian fashions. For dramatic effect she pointed her elbows high to present the same pomegranate pattern adornishing the trimmings of the long jagged sleeves - and as he later noticed - the lining of the deep v-neckline of the dress.

‘Jesus wept’ Richard exclaimed ‘What could have possibly possessed me and drawn me away from noticing the beauty of your gown, for so long?’

By then all the food was dispensed with and the hall was clear of servants. In the privacy of the ancient great hall and enraptured with the smell of fresh rushes the Earl of Warwick drew his wife onto his lap. Anne happily obliged as eagerly as a moth to a flame and threw her arms around his neck tangling her long fingers in his shoulder-length woodland brown hair as she kissed him. Improper public displays like this were a rarity and almost never passed between the Earl and Countess of Warwick, but betwixt the lengthy separation, a wife’s adoration and splendid supper neither could help themselves.

I see Isabel’s birth has not made him wroth at me. Perchance he will one day grow to love her as much as I do.

As if capable of reading her mind Richard drew her in even closer for a longer more ardent kiss. Not the polite type a knight would give his elusive ladylove.

‘No verbalisation of mine could ever express my gratitude for your birthing of such a perfect babe, I shall love Isabel as dearly as others love their sons’

‘God will give us a son soon my love, I promise you that....’ Anne started

‘Even if he does not, lest we forget the running tradition of female heiresses in both our lines’ Richard gently said while his fingers traced the hem marking the end of Anne’s kirtle and the tender skin above her breasts. It was no secret that her vast inheritance served as a point of pride for her husband; few knew it was also an aphrodisiac. ‘The finest men in the kingdom will vie for her hand in marriage’.

Anne nestled her weary head in the crook of his neck adjusting so the sharp corners of her caul do not dig into his neck before saying ‘She is too young to even contemplate such a thing.’ She was playing the doting mother. I would not admit to anyone that just hours after her birth I had been lining up a list of names in my head. Most women would think that only shrews and wicked mothers work in that way. But these women were not born to be heiresses like I was and Isabel is. Her and I are of a different breed.

‘Margaret of Anjou is taking very young girls into her service nowadays. Jacquetta Rivers’ eldest Elizabeth had been appointed lady-in-Waiting since she was just ten and three’

‘It never ceases to amaze me how many lives those Woodvilles have’ Anne chortled ‘not even the biggest scandal of Christendom could bar them from the court or king’s favour.’

‘For all of Lady Rivers’ ambitions this is the highest her or any of her brats could ever rise to. For all her fabled beauty, last I heard Elizabeth is pre-contracted to marry a modest Leicester knight like her father. Now just imagine the great marriages Isabel will have to choose from, when the time comes for her to be brought to court’ said Richard

‘Just imagine’ replied Anne wistfully ‘the greatest lady of the land - second only to the Rose of Anjou herself.’

Read the other 4 Chapters here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268239/chapters/53175664

[honeyrose-tea]

all the risky and really asks. -🌙

ok you asked for it, but be prepared, I'm hella boring lol

1. “@” people you want to be friends with

I know this is lame but I don't really have anyone? maybe on my old blog, but on this one I mostly just have old mutuals who I already consider myself friends with.

2. screenshot the tabs you have open

I won't do that to my camera roll bc there are at least 30 BUT I'll give you the highlights:

a hilarious music video by a boy from school, filmed in our dorm (and no, there's no context, he just made this for fun): https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=qaqk3PmQv20

this ring I want (which I can't afford lmao): https://www.dior.com/en_us/products/couture-JROC95024_0000-rose-dior-pre-catelan-ring-small-model-in-18k-pink-gold-and-amethyst

this wikipedia article: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Controversies_about_the_word_%22niggardly%22

multiple articles about sharks (I'm obsessed with sharks)

a lot of me searching for memes or vines which I just forgot to close lol

recipes for berry crisp (Dan's fav dessert), watermelon sorbet (one of dad's fav desserts), and creme brulee (something I wanna make)

reddit nosleeep

me trying (and failing) to find a free pdf of the DSM (manual for diagnosing mental disorders)

me trying to identify a bird from my backyard

the coca cola freestyle machine locator (I'm addicted to creme soda with peach flavoring)

this article: https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.theodysseyonline.com/10-chris-evans-movies-ranked-by-hotness.ampe

and finally, a tab of me searching for where to buy the unedited version of Anne Frank's diary (she was bi!!!)

3. the last text you sent to someone?

"lol" to my mom... srry I'm not more fun

4. do you have a nsfw blog?

I do not

5. i dare you to _____ 

can you give me a truth instead? lmao

6. screenshot the first page of your search history

I use an incognito browser...

7. tell an embarrassing memory or story

one time I walked into the mens room behind my dad bc I was so zoned out I forgot I couldn't follow him everywhere

8. how often do you take showers?

depends. if I've worked outside or something then I definitely take one right after. but on a daily basis? probably once a day or every other day, if I'm home. if I'm at school I try to take one at home on Sunday, one at school midweek (possibly two), and then one as soon as I get back on Friday. I hate showering at school bc we have community bathrooms and you have to wear flip flops. it's gross

9.  what was your first blog URL?

I honestly don't remember my first one but I know at one point toward the beginning I was called "frozenfloralpolaroids"

10. if you draw or write, show some of your really old work

I don't draw and I don't write recreationally, the only things I can think of are some pieces I wrote for school projects, which I probably don't have on hand. once again sorry I'm lame lol

1. if you had to hug anyone who would you hug

uhhhhh probably my sweet internet friend who we'll call M. he needs a hug and I feel like he would give good ones:)

2. whats your favorite flavor of ice cream?

depends on the mood! if I'm feeling fruity I'll go for like a cherry cordial or a strawberry milkshake or maybe even a fruit sorbet! but if it's like a rich desserty mood I like anything with peanut butter or caramel or chocolate (or all three!). tldr; if you give me ice cream I will eat it

3. whats your favorite color?

idk? being LGBTQ+ I feel like I have some license to just say "the rainbow" but. for the sake of answering, I guess purple. I like purple a lot.

4. if you have pets, what are their names?

my dog that passed a year or so ago was named Haley, after Haley's comet. we called her a beagle/hound mix but she was really just a mutt. I loved her a lot:(

my other dog (still living) is my best friend. her name is Izzy and she's a golden retriever, though I'm convinced she's actually an angel

I have 18 chickens! here are the five who are still remaining from our first flock:

Annalise/Anna, a buff orpington (golden colored) who's big and floofy. she's Loud and likes to let us know she's laid an egg by singing an "egg song", which basically means clucking loud enough that we can hear her inside our house

Rosie/Rosalinda/Rosa, a rhode island red (a dark auburn color) who is debatably the alpha. she's a people-lover, and the best one to let kids hold as she's very calm. she'll fall asleep in my arms. but don't let that trick you, she's still bossy with the other chickens and aggressive when it comes to food (but aren't we all?)

Marsha, a black chicken (can't think of the breed rn) who is hearty and medium-sized. she's calm and demure and she has pretty brown eyes:)

Elsie and Stella, easter egg chickens (smaller breed that lays pastel green eggs) who are named after my maternal grandmother and great-grandmother. their names fit the way their namesakes were- Elsie is a lighter brown color and quite shy and sweet, Stella is skinny and darker and mean. not mean, really, but she has taken to bullying our new chickens which we've been trying to get her to stop doing

now for the new babies! (who are almost adults now!)

Rory and Lorelai, barred rocks (black and white striped) who are named after the Gilmore Girls characters

Violet and Iris, lavender orpingtons (gray with a hint of purple) who are both very sweet and named after their color, of course

Molly and Edith, two more easter egg chickens who are named after two more of my ancestors!

Clarice and Clover, buff orpingtons (like Anna) who are both super shy and precious (unlike Anna)

Ora and Georgetta. Ora is a golden-laced wyandotte while Georgetta is silver-laced (basically, they're dark-colored except for the ends of their feathers, which have a colored detailing. also come in blue and red varieties). they're named after two of the old ladies at our former church

Josephine/Josie and Penelope/Penny, new hampshire reds (a little lighter than Rosie but same idea) who are both so cute. they have a bit of black in their tail feathers and are just so so pretty:)))

finally, our special girl Buttercup! Buttercup was an extra because we ordered our babies as hatchlings from an online store, and they said we could have an extra for free! Buttercup is pure white and she is such a chracter. she likes roosting up really high and has fun doing things she knows she's Not Supposed To Do. she's funny and I love her

5. do you like a warm bed or a cold bed?

cold! I lovvvve sleeping in the cold. I like having the room super cold and then cuddling up under my blankets bc........... I'm baby

6. whats a really good memory you have?

strangely, the first thing that popped into my head was sitting on a rooftop with T on a really nice night. I'm not sure why, as I don't think about him that often, but I guess that goes to show that you can still love the memories even if you don't love the person anymore

7. favorite song you cant stop listening to?

Sweet Life by Frank Ocean, and the entire EP "This Thing Called Living" by Eloise

8. do you drink water with or without ice in it?

with ice, unless it's a bottle from the fridge. I love cold water though, and will very rarely drink room temp

9. do you like to use correct grammar when you type or just type all lowercase?

both? I don't capitalize the beginnings of sentences, but I do capitalize proper nouns and use correct punctuation and all that. I just feel like it looks too stuffy when there's all those capital letters

10. whats something thats made you laugh recently?

I was at a restaurant tonight where the servers sing throughout the night (they're all trying to make it on Broadway) and one guy sang a love song directly to this girl and threw confetti on her, which was funny. other than that probably just like. memes

[themoonkissedexplorer-blog]

Finding My Rhythm!

My nursery school experience is one I do not often talk about,a kid should not be able to recall how their teacher had a psychotic break in the middle of a lesson ,went into coloring a bunch of books in a frenzy while screaming and had to be carried out , I did not feel so terrible though,this was the same teacher who told me not to sing the national anthem during morning assembly as she was lost on where to place my voice, I was too off key.

This blew my one chance of making friends as an awkward kid.I wasn't accepted in the little boys and girls choir club ,and that was pretty much the only thing we had going on in that school.The whole episode about a teacher losing her wits infront of the class did not sit in too well with the parents ,so before I had made any meaningful connections,I was off with my first bag ,crayons and evenly spaced exercise books to another school.This was not just a nursery school,it consisted of a lower and upper primary too.

My adventures were just beginning,I thought it was going to be a lovely rosy experience but this school had the toughest bunch in it,I immediately stood out as I was able to read ,albeit with some difficulties a few english sentences here and there,the cheerfulness I displayed when raising my hands in class did not work on my favor,I learnt that there was a way things were running in this school and I was not being a good fit.My new school mates praised illiteracy,this were young kids who thought life was out of school and were just passing time .

Reading or even speaking a bit of english alienated me further from making any meaningful connection or friendship,I had to acquire a tough exterior somehow while still maintaining my grades to avoid any trouble with the old lady at home.I labored so hard to make new friends but it seems the kids knew right away I was a bit apprehensive.My resolve towards bullies was pretty simple as I had one objective in mind,turn foe into friend,and the process involved giving in to their demands with a smile.

The first encounter was around lunch hour with Jamila ,a girl who should not have been in class one.Jamila towered even over our mathematics teacher ,one could always spot the tremor in Mrs Wanja's voice as she called out Jamila's name while going through the register.Jamila asked for my shoes and socks without flinching ,I knew they did not fit her so that confirmed the suspicion that she could have been having a family outside school or was possibly running a business for second hand wares,I gave lady Jamila the brightest smile ever and proceeded to give her my new shoes and old pair of socks.

Back home my mother was infuriated and also worried about my slothful like nature but this gradually went to rage when I came home without school uniform the second week and the last straw was when I walked back home with a polythene bag holding my books having given out my first bag as well.My mother had had enough ,I could tell from my burning ears after she'd pulled them for so long trying to understand what submissive demon had possessed me into giving out everything she was buying for me,she was also worried I was a bit slow.

I had to toughen up ,luckily my cousin Ibrahim and his friend Baraka joined around the same time.With the two I found company and got a bit of respect around school,but it was not enough ,this was all revealed when Jamila towered over us one day after class ,took all our erasers and books and left.A front of three ,and we still got bullied,it was time to think of concise and effective ways to get some respect around school,but outside Jamila's turf of course.I saw in Baraka and Ibrahim friends but I was an outsider in their friendship bond.When they talked me into after school street fighting,I did not ask why I as a female was the fighter and they,two males were managing me.

So we got to watching indian movies in video cafes to learn a few moves and in a day I was ready to take on the world.The mechanism was simple ,Ibrahim and Baraka would get into trouble with someone,to weasel out of it they would throw in a challenge,a fight, and the prize was just respect .They'd meet me outside my class after school,we would then proceed to the back of the school and I would immediately be thrown in to the ring.The first few fights were peanuts ,I was in the best form,thin and fast and throwing in a few shah ru khan moves here and there I would have my opponent begging for mercy in no time at all.

I became quite popular as a result and in class three I was completely unafraid to raise my hands  in class or speak english , but that was till the day we challenged Atman who had sat on Ibrahim's desk and refused to budge.With growing tenacity ,I walked into Ibrahim's class just before the lesson started and told Atman about the pain that was about to rain down on him.I should have observed Atman clearly I understand that now,Atman like jamila seemed the type of guy or kid as I was unable to discern later who would not be going home to do homework but in a certain degree to solve real life problems like rent,or issues like was the gardening hoe returned by the neighbor,or trouble himself about financial issues and the rising price of a loaf of bread.

 Atman was all muscle,muscles were bulging throughout every visible part of him.It did not last long ,one minute I was holding my fist defiantly the next I was face down in the middle of the desk with my legs up in the air,my promoters had taken off and were nowhere to be seen.I went home looking like I had been fished out of a muddy pond,mom took one look at me and took me off to a private school-yet again,another unsuccessful attempt at making friends.

The private school covered what remained of my upper primary years,I was fast tracking into the puberty phase .I had some vague notions of what a private school would be like ,ideas we had passed around in my former schools while walking home when the big new school buses for private schools with english names printed across carrying all this bright faces would zoom past us.We thought to ourselves that the kids must have been born in big hospitals with fancy doctors and the first stream of words they heard were probably bunch of english words.

Fancy we thought,this were a different type of people who only conversed in this words we see in text books,fascinating!I was thrust into yet another environment that I did not fit in,I remember my new class gasping as I read an english statement with the knowledge of the school I was from,a mish mash of tenses. I rose through the ranks slowly in this new establishment by doing a lot of homework for people but it all paid off as I was chosen to be a head girl,attempt at making friends yet again ineffective because power tends to push people away.

Mother says she was worried about me for quite sometime,I was always colliding with bicycles while going to the shop,losing money,forgetting change,zoning off and creepily staring at people ,and my mouth would go off and say the wrong things in a family reunion like aunty Letifa's late night meetings with the village chief which would come as quite a surprise to her husband.So I treaded on looking for people to fit in with, I did not find that escape in high school as the zoning off and staring into space became a topic and people would allude to me when conversing about characters that were not quite okay in the head,the straw that broke the camels back was when I attempted a dance during the entertainment hour in my third year.

I let the beat completely take over me and started gyrating and convulsing to it,I moved like a white girl they said while laughing so I let dancing become a private affair while showering.I was made to feel awkward all through and it happens to date,but I always celebrated the fact that I was different and I was always convinced that there had to be a breed of people I would fit right in with.I  have felt like a box was being designed for me at each stage and I was expected to fit in.Growing up,I had to explain myself to my peers why I enjoyed reading,but at some point ,books became my only solace,and my adventures were restricted to my wandering imagination.

I went camping recently and a picture was taken of me on top of a tree,I spent the next two days on social media being asked by people what brain malady had overtaken me and made me climb a tree.I was shocked,that even as a twenty six year old I was put on the stand to validate my actions as if it was any ones business.I spent so much time growing up trying to fit in to the idea of normal ,what everybody expected of me ,but at each step I was amiss because I was either not tough enough,my hips were too narrow or my ideas too wild.But I stopped trying to fit in a long time ago,I learnt that life is that big dance floor and as I let go and let the rhythm of life overtake me,no matter how absurd my convulsions and gyrations may seem to others ,when I open my eyes I will find some people close to me.

[hexwritesfanfics]

[to be human]

A/N: To be completely honest, a lot of my Tokyo Ghoul-related fics are on Wattpad, but since I’m not on the site much anymore and constantly posting on here more actively, now you get to see my trash. My long-running Tokyo Ghoul fic is also on Wattpad because I can’t post nineteen chapters in one go.

Fandom: Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing: Kaneki x OC

Warning: slight angst

“I still remember. Do you?”

    Kaneki received no response; really, he didn’t need one. He knew she remembered. She never truly forgot anything, not even the barest of details about him. He sighed, brushing his fingers against the soft pale skin of Hanami’s cheek, the warmth so familiar after basking within it for so long. He had tried to taint her, to make her like him, but in the end, she had freed him of the darkness inside.

    She loved every fractured piece of him and he loved every shattered piece of her.

    “I still remember when you tried to visit me in the hospital after the accident,” Kaneki murmured, his tone taking on a tint of regret. “You and Hide, you both tried and I turned you both away. I wish I had let the two of you visit if I could turn back time.”

    He paused for a moment.

    “If I could turn back time,” he continued, “I would have recognized how you felt about me sooner.”

    Hanami still hadn’t responded, but honestly what could Kaneki have expected? Ever since that battle against the CCG, her ghoul gene was forcibly triggered when the Doves were cutting into her body before his eyes. When Kaneki received a grievous blow, Hanami had gone ballistic and attacked every Dove within their vicinity. She had received a blow in turn, but there was something odd by how she shielded her body. Kaneki found out why much later.

    Makine Hanami, the only trace left of his human past, was the girl who loved him when he was human and loved him as he was now. She was the girl he had taken, the girl who tried to appeal to his humanity by releasing her. But Kaneki couldn’t let her go; not when she carried memories of a time when his fate wasn’t cruel. She was his, a beautiful flower much like her name that he held in his bloodied hands.

    Kaneki’s hand drifted from its place against Hanami’s cheek down to her hand, twining his fingers with hers. It had been two long years since Hanami’s eyes closed on that battle field, but she wasn’t dead. After the recessive ghoul gene inside of her body was triggered, Hanami was in bed in a new hideout, healing. Kaneki wasn’t sure how long her coma would last.

    I’m just like you now, she had said to him on the battlefield, with tears streaming from her eyes—the rubies he was so familiar with now fully formed kakugan. She was smiling though, not because of that; she understood him better now that she was somewhat the same. Hanami was a half-breed whose humanity was the most dominant of her. No matter how her DNA was constructed in her mother’s womb, Hanami was more human than he ever could be again.

    “She still hasn’t woken up?”

    Kaneki was pulled from his reverie by Touka’s voice and he turned his gaze to the dark-haired female. While Kaneki knew of Touka’s feelings toward him, he was grateful for her presence. She had pulled him from the brink when he thought he had lost Hanami forever. She still kept him in check while he sat at Hanami’s bedside.

    “Not yet,” he replied softly, lifting Hanami’s hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to her fingers. “I would have think she’d open her eyes by now.”

    “You two went through the wringer, Kaneki.” Touka’s voice was soft. “And Hanami…her body couldn’t handle the strain of her genes taking over on top of being…”

    Tortured. The one word Touka or Kaneki could never say. The CCG had taken Hanami from him after finding out that her father was a ghoul under the alias of “Red Eyes”. From what Kaneki was told, Hanami’s father was a ferocious ghoul that had gone under the grid after he had taken a human woman as a mate—and no one had realized from that union came a half-breed unlike the usual. Hanami was born an anomaly, a half-breed that should have been impossible to give birth to. Her mother’s pregnancy was as normal as a human’s—the only difference was that the daughter was born with unformed kakugan, no kagune, and her mother had repeatedly tried to kill her.

    Hanami understood faster than Kaneki could that her mother didn’t realize she had conceived a child with a ghoul. “Red Eyes” had disappeared before Hanami’s birth and Hanami had met her father on the battlefield—as a quinque. Even now, Kaneki felt anger toward the CCG. While Amon Kotaro was a Dove Kaneki respected, the other Doves were quick to put a scared girl on a slab and carve her open because she was the daughter of a ghoul.

    Touka sighed softly. She knew how difficult this was for Kaneki, to watch as his mate was comatose. She had met Hanami only a handful of times and could see that the brunette was pure. All she wanted was to do was see Kaneki again. Glancing back, Touka smiled softly. “She wants to see you,” she told Kaneki, returning her gaze to him. “She wants you to tell the story of how you and Hanami met.”

    A smile curved Kaneki’s lips faintly. “If she insists.”

    Touka exited the room and, not a few minutes later, a little girl no older than two toddled in, walking toward Kaneki. Her curling, black hair was held slightly at bay with hairclips shaped like roses, her cheeks a rosy pink as she held out her hands. Kaneki reached for the child, hoisting her into his arms. “Have you been giving Touka-chan a hard time, Sayuri?” he asked.

    Sayuri pouted and Kaneki couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him before she lay her head on his shoulder. The child definitely took after her mother when making that face. “I want to see mama,” she chirped. “Papa keeps mama all to himself.”

    “I do, don’t I?” Kaneki smoothed a hand against Sayuri’s cheek, getting to his feet to pace near Hanami’s bed. “That isn’t fair of me, is it?”    

    “No, no, no, papa, not fair,” cooed Sayuri, her small arms banding around Kaneki’s neck. She lifted her head to peer at him with large, ruby eyes. That was one of the things Sayuri had inherited from her mother.

    “Touka-chan told me you want papa to tell you a story.”

    Sayuri nodded before laying her head against his shoulder. “About papa and mama.”

    “Where to begin,” laughed Kaneki as he looked at Hanami.

    “Papa say mama was like a princess.”

    “That’s right. Mama was like a princess, with pretty eyes like yours.”

    “Is mama a ghoul too?”

    Kaneki looked toward Hanami before returning his gaze to Sayuri, bouncing the toddler gently in his arms to get her to sleep. “Mama is the most human person papa has ever met, Sayuri. Do you know why?”

    “Why?”

    “Because mama’s heart is full of love. Love for you, love for me, and love for all of our friends here.”

    Sayuri rubbed her eyes. “Papa?”

    “Yes?”

    “Will mama ever wake up?”

    Kaneki sighed heavily, resting his head gently against Sayuri’s. “She will. Mama is just resting for a while so she can play with you for as long as you want,” he assured. It was a question Sayuri often posed every night after she’d “fight” with Touka on seeing him to hear stories about Hanami.

    As much as Kaneki wished Hanami would open her eyes day after day these past two years, she had given him the most precious treasure Kaneki would ever hope to have in his life. He only hoped she would wake up soon to experience the joy of caring for that treasure. Sayuri was a part of Kaneki and a part of Hanami, their treasured daughter, beloved by everyone in their current hideout. Until Hanami awakened, Kaneki would have to protect both her and Sayuri. They were the reason he could feel human again, the reason why his heart was so full.  

    “Papa?” Sayuri mumbled sleepily and Kaneki rubbed the child’s back soothingly with a soft hum. “Can I stay here with you and mama?”

    Kaneki smiled softly. “How about I lay you down next to mama?”

    “Please?”

    Kaneki moved toward Hanami’s bedside, gently easing his daughter onto the bed beside her mother after gently shifting Hanami’s arm. Sayuri curled against Hanami, resting her head against the space on Hanami’s shoulder and closing her eyes, falling asleep surrounding by her mother’s warmth. Kaneki threaded his fingers through Sayuri’s raven curls gently, his eyes soft. “Good night, my precious flowers” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss against Sayuri’s head and one against Hanami’s lips.

[vantemei]

 imagine taehyung is a successful actor and he has great friends and a good income and a nice big penthouse in seoul but he still feels lonely so he decides to get a hybrid.

taehyung doesn't just wake up one morning and decide he's going to get a hybrid. the idea comes to him when his friend namjoon introduces taehyung to his own bunny hybrid, jeongguk. taehyung has known namjoon for the majority of his career, the majority of his life really, and he's always seen the elder as someone who is serious and hardworking but a bit of a goofball once you get to know him. 

however, even in the entire thirteen years he's spent with the elder, he's never once seen him quite as relaxed or content as he did whenever jeongguk would curl into his side or wrap his arms possessively around namjoon's waist, chin snagging on his shoulder and ears perking up when namjoon would chuckle at his actions.

after that taehyung decides to do some research. there are hundreds of different kinds of hybrids. different species and different breeds and different races. each hybrid is different and unique in their own way and need a lot of care and time. certain species of hybrids get heats and ruts, others have periods of hibernation, and some even have migration inclinations. avian hybrids require homes with large open spaces and lots of outside room. more wild hybrids like wolf and bear hybrid need to live places with more deciduous climates. 

taehyung spends two weeks looking through all the different species that can happily live in cities and more crowded places. it takes him another week to narrow it down to a cat hybrid, though a dog hybrid would be tempting, taehyung's schedule is often busy and he wouldn't be able to go out with a dog hybrid much and he doesn't trust the streets of seoul - even gangnam - enough to let someone precious to him wander by themselves.

so taehyung looks up the nearest shelters and finds the best one. he reads the reviews and smiles at all the positive comments left by people, happy with their new companions. taehyung realizes that yes, this is the place.

the drive to the shelter is 15 minutes but it feels like seconds pass before taehyung is stepping out of his car - a luxury lamborghini he would never buy for himself but was a gift from a fellow actor - and he nervously fiddles with the cuff of his coat. it's barely september and the air is already chilly with the promise of snow. not that he minds, taehyung loves the snow.

the shelter is a tall multiple story building and taehyung recalls that the website said each floor is specified to the species of hybrids that live there.

a woman sits at the front desk, long auburn hair pulled back into a neat bun and a polite smile on her face as she greets taehyung, eyes widening in recognition as he tucks his face mask into his pocket.

"h-hello, how may i help you today?"

"hello," taehyung greets her with a smile. "i'd like to adopt a hybrid."

"of course! well, i'll just ask you to fill out some basic information first and then we'll get you started."

"of course." taehyung takes the offered clipboard with a simple white form on the front and takes a pen from the bowl on the desk, quickly filling out his basic information. name, address, living situation, job, easy things.

"now, just to make sure you understand;" taehyung looks up. "you won't actually be able to adopt a hybrid today. you'll be able to meet some and you'll meet with a representative of whichever species you choose but before any hybrid can be adopted from out shelter we conduct a thorough background check and a home visit to make sure the hybrid will be going into a safe environment and you also cannot just choose a hybrid. hybrids are people to and whoever you choose will have to choose you back. we put the safety and comfort of the hybrids staying with us first."

"that sounds perfect. i'll be happy to provide any information you ask of me,"

taehyung hands back the finished form and the woman - her desk plaque reads 'park eunji' - and she takes it with a smile, eyes flicking over the form with a subtle nod.

"you've already decided you'd like a cat hybrid? alright, then please wait just a moment and i'll call down an agent from the feline department."

the wait isn't long. not even two minutes later the elevator to taehyung's left dings and a man with a large smile and soft brown hair steps out. "hello taehyung-ssi, my name is jung hoseok and i'll be the case worker for your time with us."

"it's nice to meet you hoseok-ssi," hoseok's hand is warm and taehyung smiles back just as brightly at him.

"alright! well if you'll follow me we can head up to the feline section. eungi told me you're looking for a more domestic breed, is that correct?" hoseok presses the button for floor seven and taehyung nods.

"alright then! i'll just ask you a couple of quick questions before we get there. taehyung-ssi, what brought you here to our fine shelter with the intention of adopting a companion?"

"well my job is sort of-" taehyung bites his lip and tries to think of a good way to word it. "taxing? not so much in a physical sense - though it can be that way too - but, i'm an actor so i spend a lot of time in the public eye and even when i'm not at events and just trying to buy groceries people are always watching me. it's hard to live with people always watching you hoseok-ssi, especially when they never really look at you. a lot of people try and take advantage of you and it's hard to make friends. a friend of mine is in a similar situation and he adopted a hybrid a few months ago. a really sweet guy named jeongguk. whenever i see them together i see how happy they are and i realized that i want that to. someone i can spend time with carelessly. someone who i can be myself around and be comfortable with. ah- sorry, i ramble sometimes-" the elevator dings just as taehyung looks up from where he was staring absently at the wall and catches the soft smile on hoseok's face.

"i think you'll find someone like that here taehyung-ssi. i'm glad you came to us."

hoseok leads him out of the elevator and taehyung marvels at floor around him. the elevator opens into a large room with couches, chairs, bean bag chairs, and soft carpets everywhere. there are about thirty or so cat hybrids spread throughout the room. 

some of them are sleeping, curled up in chairs or couches, and some of them are reading or listening to music stretched over the rugs. there's a tv playing a movie that looks like 'a man and a woman' and taehyung grins as he briefly remembers having to film in the snow for a few scenes of that movie. several hybrids are curled around each other in what looks like a cuddle pile as they watch and there is a similar pile on the other end of the room that looks like a nap pile.

hoseok leads taehyung over to a desk across from the elevator and greets the man there - his nametag reads 'kyungsoo' - with a smile and grabs a 'hello my name is' sticker which he passes to taehyung with a marker.

"just put this on and go socialize! i'll come check in on you soon!"

"alright. thank you hoseok-ssi!" taehyung beams at the man and carefully writes his name on the sticker before peeling off the back and smoothing over the front of his black gucci button up.

looking out over the room taehyung can see some of the hybrids who have spotted him looking over him curiously, a couple of them seeming to recognize him and turning quickly to whisper to the closest person. taehyung's eyes flit across the room until they come to a halt on a single figure curled up on a beanbag chair a little ways away from the others, right up against the window that looks out over what appears to be a back courtyard. a boy, maybe a couple years younger than taehyung with fluffy black hair and matching ears and a tail is curled intently over a sketchbook, a small pencil held tightly in his tiny hand.

the hybrid's ears twitch as taehyung makes his way over and taehyung holds back a small gasp as the boy looks up at him, beautiful deep amber eyes locked on him as he makes his way over and seats himself in front of the beanbag, legs folding across each other and warm smile on his face.

"hello," the hybrid blinks but remains silent. "i'm taehyung, do you mind if i sit here?" again he receives no answer so taehyung take it as a 'yes' and leans his back against the wall, grin not faltering at the lack of an answer. "i'm sorry for interrupting you, you seemed like you were really into it. do you mind if i ask what you were drawing?"

the hybrid's eyes flicker across taehyung's form and he can see the boy's nose twitch subtley, probably taking in his scent, and the way his tail flicks curiously next to his ankle. he takes the moment of being observed to do the same. the hybrid is small. definitely no more than two or three years younger than taehyung but his stature is small, as many cat hybrid's are, and he looks like he would come right up to taehyung's shoulders. 

his black hair is fluffy and falls over his eyebrows, shadowing his pretty amber eyes just slightly. his cheeks are naturally rosy and soft, rounded in the cutest way taehyung has ever seen and his lips are thick and plush, a soft pink color that looks like the petals of a rose. all in all he's probably the most beautiful person taehyung has ever seen and he hopes the slight flush on his own cheeks isn't too visible.

the hybrid's tail flicks again before curling around his ankle and he silently hold his sketchbook out towards taehyung, shy and hesitant as his ears twitch forward.

taehyung takes the sketchbook and his eyes widen. "wow! this is amazing! you drew this?!" the hybrid flushes and ducks his head slightly, hands curling together into his chest, knees drawing up, and he nods, eyes cast down. taehyung looks back at the beautifully detailed raven on the paper and his smile grows to a rectangle. "this is beautiful! you're very talented. you must have worked really hard on it, you should be proud!"

the hybrids ears twitch and his cheeks darken and taehyung bites back a squeal. he's just so cute!!

the hybrid slowly reaches his hand out of the shy little ball he's made of himself and he gently flips the cover of the sketchbook over so the inside cover is showing and glances at it purposefully. taehyung does as well and smiles. "property of jimin? is that your name?"

a nod.

"that's a beautiful name jimin,"

jimin pulls his hand back and peeks out from behind his knees, eyes slit into crescents and cheeks flushed with a smile and taehyung's heart races.

"would you show me some of your other drawings?"

jimin's eyes widen a bit and his tail flicks excitedly against his sock covered feet, ears perking up as he sits up a little more, arm reaching out for the book. taehyung hands it over with a soft smile and watches as the hybrid flips through the sketchbook for a few pages before he seems to find the one he was looking for. an intricate rose is sketched across the page and taehyung gasps dramatically.

"jimin! this is so beautiful! did you learn from van gogh? you must have!"

taehyung watches, delighted, as jimin's cheeks get darker with each praise and he smiles shyly as he takes the book back. that's how they pass the time; jimin flipping through his sketchbook and taehyung 'ooh-ing' and 'aww-ing' at each new page and praising the detailed work and before either of them realizes it, a little over an hour has passed.

"oh, taehyung-ssi! i see you've met jimin," taehyung startles slightly at hoseok's sudden presence and he feels jimin's hands on his shoulders clench. he's moved his position in the last hour so his back is against the beanbag chair and he holds the sketchbook open in front of him with jimin leaning over his shoulder to flip through pages.

"oh uh- yes, yeah..." taehyung's startled expression melts into a soft smile as he feels jimin's tail wrap around his upper arm. hoseok grins at them. "well, it's been about an hour so i wanted to stop by real quick and see how you two are getting along?"

hoseok is honestly a bit surprised that it's been an hour. when he saw taehyung walk over to jimin he figured the actor would go to someone else pretty soon. jimin has been with their shelter for almost four years and in all that time hoseok has only ever heard him speak three times. everyone who tries to talk with jimin quickly notice his mute tendencies and end up moving on pretty quickly and jimin has never looked even slightly put off by it. in fact, jimin usually ignores people who try and speak to him.

hoseok's jaw had dropped when he glanced over at the two after about half an hour and saw taehyung leaning his back against the beanbag with jimin practically wrapped around him, black tail curled loosely around his arm and chin resting on his shoulder. jimin never even got that close to the other hybrids, nose usually scrunching up when anyone got to close to him.

even now, the way jimin shrunk back shyly behind taehyung, small hands curling over his shoulders and tail tightening on his arm, hoseok can't believe he's warmed up to someone so much so quickly.

"we're getting along well i think, jimin is really talented," the genuine care in taehyung's words warms hoseok's heart and he smiles.

"that's good. jimin? what about you? do you like taehyung-ssi?"

the hybrid bites his lip and peeks up at hoseok, nodding quickly before his eyes flicker back to the window, cheeks flushed.

"alright then! i'm glad you're getting along. i'll leave you to it then,"

two more hours pass and hoseok looks back over at the pair and is surprised to see taehyung standing now. he's holding jimin's much smaller hand in his own and the hybrid is pouting up at him. taehyung looks apologetic as he presses a kiss to the back of jimin's hand and turns away, frowning down at his phone as he walks towards hoseok.

"is something wrong taehyung-ssi?"

"no, not at all. i just got a call from my manager and i need to go, but i was wondering if i could come see jimin again? probably not tomorrow but the day after?"

"of course! visiting hours are everyday from 08:00 to 20:00 so feel free to drop by anytime. you can get a visitors pass from eungi at the front desk and just make your way right up!"

taehyung smiles writes something down on his phone before glancing back up.

"and i- i was wondering if i could bring him a present? just, nothing too big but-"

"of course taehyung-ssi," hoseok cuts off his embarrassed rambling and taehyung awards him another blinding smile.

"alright. thank you hoseok-ssi. i'll be seeing you."

[satin-swallow]

Mystery at Mountbatten || Chapter Four || On the Other Side

“‘I hear nothing dispels unhelpful rumours like a team of scientists secretly investing time and money into the source...’”  

Fandom: Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries Characters: Phryne Fisher & Jack Robinson Rating: T Genre: Mystery/Suspense/Ghost Story

Time for Arthur is running out, and wild speculation is perhaps more frustrating than helpful - and yet, the only leads forthcoming are of the distinctly unsettling kind.

Please read and comment at AO3 if you have a moment. Thank you!

“[T]he ghosts you chase you never catch.”

(John Malkovich)

 ~*~*~

 City South was its usual lunchtime buzz when the news about Harry Taylor arrived – Henry John Taylor, as per his Birth Certificate. It had been Jack’s initial fear that the man might have left the state to start over in greener pastures, or worse. As it was, however, Hugh descended on his office with an exuberance that could only indicate good news. The Inspector set aside the incoming reports from the St Martin’s school interviews. He had requested them from the local constabulary in Monterrey, after the preliminary search of the Mountbatten surrounds had still not yielded any clues about Arthur Johns’ whereabouts; despite all eyes seeming so fixed on the ghost, Arthur’s disappearance was a far more pressing concern to his mind. Of course, he knew as well as the next man that the local police were mobilising every effort to find him, and the frustrating reality was that the fastest way to him was to follow the clues where they led.  

 “Ballarat?” he repeated back to Hugh’s bright countenance as the report was given. “Well, it’s not the Himalayas, at least. Have you made enquiries as to when he can present in Melbourne for interview?”

 The brightness faltered, “I’m afraid not, sir. I could only get Mr Taylor’s housekeeper on the line, and she says that it’s impossible.”

 Jack frowned, always impatient when trivialities strove to prevent him from doing his job, “I find it hard to believe that an auctioneer’s schedule could be quite that full.”

 “No, it’s not that,” Hugh objected, and then hesitated because of what they both already new, “she says he’s housebound, sir.”

 “Housebound?” Jack’s tone softened.    

 Hugh nodded, “Apparently it’s not advised by his doctor to travel long distances. Or, any distances, really. Apparently it gives him night terrors, sir.”

 “Oh for Heaven’s sake,” Jack couldn’t help it, the whole thing seemed too ridiculous for words. He reigned it in, though, recognizing that whatever his opinions about ghosts, Taylor had certainly suffered something, and certainly a great deal. “Make an appointment with the housekeeper, Collins, and clear my schedule for it, I’ll have to head up there and conduct the interview myself.”

 “Yes, sir,” he immediately left the room, charged with a task.

 Housebound.

 The whole affair was growing stranger by the minute, and Jack’s initial instincts that it ought to be handled from Melbourne were increasingly justified – now it was moving to Ballarat. He wiped his chin with his hand, a nervous habit that appeared when something unpleasant could be spied off the bow. He wasn’t sure that Mr Taylor’s experience was even connected to the issues at hand, let alone pertinent.

 He frowned, becoming suddenly aware of an absence as he tried to press through the complications of the matter. It startled him a little to realise that he missed Phryne -- though, it was not the missing so much as it was the circumstance for it. Of course he missed her, she was like a red rose in amongst the brambles and they’d barely parted company for more than five minutes together in the past few months. It was an intimate thing, however, to recognise that he not only missed her, but felt inwardly that he needed her.

 Here.

 For this.    

 He breathed that in for a moment, and understood its rarity; it was something he and Rosie had never shared. Dear God, were there any further ways he could be in love with her?  

 The phone rang, bringing him out of the thought even as Collins was speaking, before –

 “Sir, it’s Mr Butler on behalf of Miss Fisher,” Hugh’s head popped around the doorjamb. Jack smiled, allowing himself the sentimentality of thinking she might also have been thinking of him. “She’s on her way to Mountbatten Hall, sir.  Something about an ‘Independent Witness’?”  

It wasn’t quite what he had been expecting, in fact, he wasn’t really sure what he had been expecting.

 Then… what?

 ***

 The Hispano-Suiza had seen a lot of strange guests in its lifetime, but even Phryne had to admit that this was a first. The nervous, string-bean of a man - moving around the perimeter of Mountbatten with a strange precision - was neither dashing beau, nor helpless foundling in need of love or detecting. As she leaned gently against the motor car, she eyed him with a proud sort of fascination - his wire-rimmed glasses, his impeccable blue suit. That she’d found him at all was somewhat a feat, considering the rarity of his breed.  

 At present, he was lifting a handful of dirt to his nose before sifting it carefully through his fingers and studying it intently.

 She might have had the chance to ask him why, had the telltale dust of Jack’s arrival not immediately distracted her as his motor car pulled up to the large, stone fountain at the base of the main-entrance stairs. With limited water supplies to the area, a fountain of any magnitude was an extravagance, let alone one of this size. It was yet another clue as to the nature of the man who had designed and built the Hall. It was also irrelevant, however, as Jack emerged with the thud of a shutting door, his face unsurprisingly straight, and querying.

Phryne knew she would have a fight on her hands to explain this one - though she did have the advantage that she had actually waited for him to arrive.      

 The truth was that he had his suspicions about where this was heading, and while he had been open to following a broader approach the day before, it would be a lie to say that the failure of any concrete evidence to turn up had somewhat dampened his patience.

 He knew the statistics.

 “Jack,” she pressed herself away from the car, and her confidence reached him in a sort of wave from the movement.

 “Phryne,” he seemed less sure.  

 “Do try to look less frightened,” she chided, immediately hooking an arm into his elbow and all but dragging him up the stairs.

 “I think ‘wary’ is the word you’re looking for,” he challenged.

 “Oh come now,” she chuckled, “you haven’t even met him yet. At least you’re not sitting at a table in some hotel with a crystal ball and questionable electrics.”

 “So he is a Medium, then?” he cut straight to the chase, hoping she picked up on the fact that fanciful ideas were not  a high priority for him when a child was still missing.

 “He’s not,” she had already prepared her defence, “he’s a scientist.”  

 As though it were planned, she rounded the corner of the house to find the man with his ear now pressed to the stonework, feeling up along the wall until, quite suddenly, he turned and licked at the stone with great concentration. The pair halted. Jack’s sidelong glance was so pronounced, Phryne thought she could feel it physically.

 She stifled a laugh, trying to salvage what she could.

 “Inspector Robinson, may I present Dr Reginald Winslow – Physicist, Chemist, and – ”

 “Psychic Investigator,” Dr Winslow declared in a distinctly English accent, extricating himself from the wall and reaching out a hand to shake Jack’s, as though the incident was nothing at all. His eyes were an expressive green, bright and intelligent, and the mouse-ish look about his face meant that he had the appearance of being only in his thirties - an up-and-comer, then.  

 Not one for circumventing politesse, Jack took his hand and proceeded. “Dr Winslow,” he began, and the expertise Phryne had been gathering on his subtleties gave her a glaring insight into just what he thought of the whole situation in the first instance, “I wasn’t aware that we had any Psychic Investigators in Melbourne.”

 A small, embarrassed smile, “Actually, we’ve had some trouble establishing any branch of the Society in Australia. The Spiritualists have been ironically sceptical of our methods, and surprisingly influential.”

 Jack frowned slightly, “Sceptical of your methods?”      

 “I’m afraid so,” he gave a shrug, as though he hadn’t been licking a wall mere moments before.

 “Dr Winslow is a champion of the Society for Psychical Research,” Phryne cut in, “and the increasingly stringent rules on the use of the scientific method in their investigations. Apparently, it’s made him somewhat unpopular in the more… credulous circles of London.”  

 “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle flatly refuses to speak to me,” Winslow joked, “but when the will to believe is strong, it can be devastating to objectivity.”

 Jack stumbled over that argument – it was not at all what he had expected.

 “We’re very fortunate indeed, that he’s been sent by the President of the SPR, to assist local law enforcement by elucidating on the common tactics of fraud being perpetrated in Europe.”

 “I see.”

 “After Heinrich Melzer was exposed in ’26, my calendar has been getting steadily full,” the doctor continued on his jocular spree with a smile.

 “Is that name supposed to be familiar to me?” Jack exposed it.

 “Uh -” his nervousness returned, Phryne noted, and his youth became more apparent as he strove to veer back towards proving his credentials, “in 1926 a renowned medium, Heinrich Melzer, was exposed as a fraud after he was discovered to be falsifying acts of alleged apportation - that’s when objects are said to move or materialise during a psychic event. Melzer’s tactics were scrutinised in a controlled environment, and it was discovered that he’d been hiding small rocks and flowers for use during his séances.”

 “How?” Jack would never admit that it was curiosity.

 “By taping them behind his ears,” Reginald reported dutifully.

 “Of course.”

 “Yes.”

 “And how is it you came to know about our investigation?”

 Winslow smiled conspiratorially, “Prudence Stanley has been one of our fiercest opponents.”

 “Honestly, I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it before - Aunt Prudence has been very vocal about the whole situation,” Phryne added, “but when we were discussing it last night, I couldn’t believe it hadn’t come to me sooner.”

 Other than his instinct to improve on her definition of ‘discussing’ something, Jack hesitated to move forward until the revelation had settled into a coherent consideration. His scepticism, intrenched as it was, had a natural aversion to the whole idea, and he couldn’t help but think that the introduction of such a variable into the equation would only be fuel to the fire - not to mention that if word ever got out to the boys in the Commissioner’s office, he’d be done for in terms of credibility.

 There was one thing he needed to know before he could even dare to proceed.

 “In the interest of thoroughness,” he began carefully, “what exactly were you just doing?”

 Reginald frowned before putting the pieces together, “Oh, the wall!”

 “The wall,” Jack repeated for clarity.

 “The Society has discovered that one of the chief causes of frequent appearances of an alleged apparition - such as the one Miss Fisher has described to me - is an environmental factor such as a high chemical element level, or other influencing agent. I’ve just been examining the soil, and sometimes a particularly high salt content can be detected in the masonry of older structures,” he explained.

 It was upsettingly logical, and Jack wasn’t sure if that was off-putting or not.

 “Anyway, Dr Winslow asked if he could examine the site, so I thought it might be an excellent way to narrow the playing field somewhat,” Phryne pressed on, “if this is a fraud, I’m sure one of London’s leading Psychic Investigators can unmask it.”

 Jack sighed.

 ***

 As the door to Mountbatten creaked open, the afternoon sunlight fell like a sabre into the main entrance hall, casting back the gloom with effective precision. Phryne felt again the impressive presence of the place, and the exquisite embroidery of the hall carpet bathed in the wash of the golden hour only added to it. In some sense, there was an air of nostalgia in the afternoon, a sadness to contrast with the eerie echoing of the night she imagined the huge vaulted ceilings might encourage. Again, she could not avoid looking up at the portrait of Lady Cavanaugh, and even she seemed more subdued by the time of day - her cold, white skin looking more life-like in the warmth of it.

 “A handsome woman,” Reginald commented as he stepped up beside her, a small case in his hands that resembled a physician’s.

 “Our alleged ghost,” she informed him.

 He met her gaze and then seemed to reconsider his evaluation, “In that case, I’ll reserve my opinions.”

 Whatever his thoughts on his profession, Jack enjoyed the man’s sense of humour. “The incident occurred in the Master Bedroom upstairs,” he explained, though he was unsure what the gentleman might need to draw his conclusions.

 “And is that room of any significance to the reports of the apparition?” Winslow returned in all seriousness.

 “I - believe so,” Jack cleared his throat.

 “It’s rumoured to be the site of some of her appearances,” Phryne fed quite happily, “though the legend itself seems to circulate around her being thrown from the roof.” Jack frowned at her. “I had a few questions of my own for the locals,” she explained. “They were all very interested in the fact that Gilbert Rogers was found in the exact location Lady Cavanaugh’s body was retrieved after her death.”

 “I’m sure they were,” Reginald shook his head as he turned and looked up into the gallery, “and have we got any comprehensive reports of these supposed sightings? Other than the auctioneer’s employee you were telling me about?”

 Jack didn’t mention that they’d located him.

 “Not as yet,” Phryne concluded.

 “Unfortunately, it’s not been the focus of our investigation,” Jack said with a slight bent of irony.

 “Understandably,” Reginald agreed, “after all, two people are dead and a boy is missing.”

 Again, Jack found himself surprised, and pleasantly so.

 “Exactly.”    

 They moved in this manner from room to room: the impressive Drawing Room, with its imported fireplace, the Dining Room, dominated by an ornate Cherry-wood table, the kitchens, and the Baron’s study - which drew admiration from Dr Winslow for a great many things, though none of them seemed particularly related to psychic events.  It wasn’t until they stopped in the Billiards Room that the doctor frowned, placed his case on the floor and drew out a notepad, scribbling something inscrutable on it before making his way silently out of the door. Phryne and Jack looked at each other, but all she could offer was a shrug and a smile - one which clearly identified how diverted she was by the whole display, whatever its credibility.

 Finally, they arrived in the Master Bedroom, having examined numerous servants’ quarters on the upper level, not to mention the guest and children’s rooms. Again, nothing remarkable had been said, and the whole thing had the air of purchasing real estate, rather than investigating the paranormal. Again, Jack was unsure if he found it reassuring or not.    

The Room itself was as it had been the day before, and Jack took the time to cast his eye over it for a fresh examination. Still nothing extraordinary stood out. Dr Winslow, however, had begun furiously scribbling away. For an instant, Jack had the descending feeling that he was more reporter than scientist, and that this whole thing had been a bid to get into a sealed crime-scene.

 The next series of questions immediately put that notion to bed.

 “And were those sitting chairs as they are now when the body was discovered?” he asked.

 “I can’t vouch for the locals who found him,” Jack answered hesitantly, “but we have strict protocols about moving furniture around a crime scene.”

 “You see how they’re placed? Compared to the table? It’s like a strong wind has redirected them. Oddly-scattered furniture is thought to be a sign of Spectral Propulsion - it’s common in Poltergeist cases.” He said it with such seriousness, it was hard not to be impressed. He pointed to the mirror of the dressing table, “You can see that mirror is also at on odd angle, as though pushed back. Has it been fingerprinted?”

 “We’ll be waiting on the results of scene analysis for a while yet,” Jack defended, “it’s too early for conclusive evidence.”

 “Of course,” came the practical reply.

 After a moment of thought, and no further clues, Winslow turned to face them both with a smile, “I’m satisfied that there’s enough here.”

 “To dismiss the claims?” Jack hoped.

 “To open a more thorough investigation,” he contradicted, as though it had been abundantly clear from everything he had said. Phryne’s brows rose, casting a look of victory at Jack that would have been unbecoming on anyone else.

 “What exactly would that require?” Jack protested, the weight of Arthur’s disappearance beginning to press at him once more.

 “A few controlled experiments of the place, some ongoing observation - nothing that would necessarily impede on your own enquires - although, I would like the opportunity to speak to the alleged witnesses of the phenomenon. Preferably witnesses a little more… objective than Mrs Randall.”

 “Absolutely not.”

 “Why not?” Phryne was surprised at the forcefulness with which Jack had said it.

 “The only witnesses we have, at present, are both still pertinent to our investigation, Dr Winslow. I won’t have another investigation clouding their judgment on what is already a complicated matter. Certainly not for the sake of - ” he stopped, trying not to be uncivil.

 “I understand,” Winslow retreated before it would become necessary, and raised his hands in surrender. “Naturally, I am here only to provide whatever support I can, not to compromise your inquiry. This is your investigation, Inspector.”  

 ***

 Despite the doctor’s diplomacy, Phryne still felt the lingering suddenness of Jack’s disapproval over dinner. Certainly they had shared a delicious sort of interplay over his disagreement about the possibility of ghosts, but the openness she had praised in him the night before had vanished so suddenly before her eyes; she was unsure what had brought it about. “It can’t hurt to let him conduct some observational work,” she pressed, her tone in some contradiction to the candlelight.

 Jack looked up at her, still chewing and having to catch up with her thought process for a moment.

 “It can hurt,” he said, “and you know that.”

 His resolve was clear, and Phryne felt the presence of an argument at her back, perhaps the first real one since they’d returned from London. It was a strange sensation, and one she disliked to let into their new space - one which had been so rich with co-operation despite their usual differences of tactic.

 She held her tongue against what she wanted to say.

 “Has there been any more from the school interviews?” she tried instead.

 “Nothing particular,” he conceded, “Gil was known for being an occasional trouble-maker, the others were along for the ride.”

 “And… the woods on the grounds?” she had intentionally stayed away from them, and from the line of local police trudging through the underbrush; she’d done enough picking through woods looking for children. She knew her limits where that was concerned.

 “Nothing,” Jack muttered darkly.

 Ah.

 It fell somewhat neatly into place. She could hear Arthur on his voice, and the seeming distraction of a ghost was mounting while all hard evidence slipped slowly through his fingers. She smiled softly, feeling a wash of care - his sensitivities were as intoxicating to her as his forthrightness.

 “What else do we have?” she asked earnestly, bringing the conclusion to his feet.  

 “Don’t, Phryne,” Jack stated simply, placing his fork on his plate, and staring at his greens.

 She blinked at him, quite thrown by the response. It hadn’t been aggressive, hadn’t pressed carelessly over him as she had been prone to. The press of that argument returned. “Don’t what, Jack?” she asked.

 “Don’t talk to me about ghosts when -” she could see him restrain himself. Then, he deflated in his chair with a huff, “I’m sorry.”

 She breathed, paused for a moment as she considered him. “This is the fastest way I know how to get there,” she laid the cards squarely on the table, “and I know full well that it might be a spectacular red herring, but what else do we have?”

 Jack looked up at her, knowing that she was right despite his frustrations. He was letting his dissatisfaction with it get to him, and he knew it. “We’ve located Mr Taylor,” he confessed.  

 “Where?”

 “Housebound, in Ballarat,” he said, “I’m heading up there to question him - his doctors don’t think he can make the trip to Melbourne.”

 “That’s excellent news, Jack,” she said, really trying to remind him of the fact.

 “Is it?” he answered calmly, his blue eyes reaching for her across the half-light. It all but shattered her, the way he tugged at her, and the earlier need he had felt so keenly returned and impressed itself on her in this instance. She was up from her chair in seconds, but whatever she was planning to soothe him was interrupted by a confident knock at the front door.

 Mr Butler’s quick work revealed it to be Mac, hat in her hand.

 “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” she said almost as soon as they were in the parlour, “but we’ve had some complications with the analysis of our mysterious powder.” Whatever frustrations Jack had been nursing turned into a clenched fist as he leaned against the mantle. Phryne felt the tension more than saw it, and she offered Mac her own apologetic look.

 “Not exactly what we were hoping for,” she offered more as explanation than chastisement.

 “I know,” Mac remained standing, even as Phryne sat, “I heard that the search team turned up very little.”

 “There’s not much more for us to go on,” Jack said, pulling in his earlier moodiness for a practical reality, “we were hoping for something more concrete.”

 Phryne felt the immediate urge to touch him.

 “I spoke with the University, and the reality is that the substance doesn’t fit any of their identified chemical models,” she left out the fact that it had been a cause of some excitement for the scientific minds who hadn’t quite made the leap from intriguing discovery to missing boy. “Without a verifiable match, or even a measurable similarity, it’ll take time for them to cross-reference with other institutes. I can confirm that the substance found on the stairs matches that found on Harcourt and Rogers, though?”

 Phryne’s earlier comment echoed in Jack’s head, “What else do we have?”

 “Thank you, Dr MacMillan,” he finished quietly.

 Mac felt the finality, and cast a querying glance to Phryne. She had never allowed defeatism in the lady detective, and with her emerging relationship with the Inspector, she wondered how much leeway she had to challenge it there as well. Of course, Phryne definitely had her own methods for managing it, but Mac hated to leave an end untied.

 A pause.

 “So, what’s next?” she tossed her hat onto a chair and confidently strode forward to pick up a glass of whiskey that had been sneakily placed there by Mr Butler, leaning an elbow on the chair back – comfortable as she pleased. Jack watched her with some surprise. Phryne was more convinced than ever that she possessed the best friends in the world.

 “A number of… unconventional avenues,” she offered.

 “God, that does sound depressing,” Mac took a sip, “how unconventional?”

 “Well – “ Phryne gradually realised what she was about to come up against. She hesitated as Jack eyed her. It was perhaps the injection of energy that he had needed.

 “Parapsychology,” he said flatly, feeling vindicated already.

 Mac coughed into her glass. Phryne was ready to recant her opinion of friends if necessary.

 “I’m sorry… what?”

 “Without hard evidence on the boys, we’re forced to follow leads from the locals –“ Jack came over to claim his glass as well, “the best we’ve come up with so far is a previously-institutionalized auctioneer, and a psychic investigator who has very kindly offered to validate our ‘ghost’.”      

 “I’m so pleased to know that’s where my tax dollars are going,” the doctor muttered.

 “All right, all right,” Phryne put a stop to it immediately, feeling the return of lightness even as she was left to fend for herself, “what Jack has failed to mention is that Dr Winslow has presented as an expert witness in countless fraud cases in London. So, whatever your opinion on his science – “

 “If we want to call it that – “

 “Whatever your opinions on his science,” Phryne forged ahead with a quick glare, “he might offer up a fresh perspective that could help us understand the rest. Like it or not, the ghost is a central figure in this whole conundrum, and the only one that seems to be offering up any results.”

  “If we want to call them ‘results’ at all,” Jack countered, “you yourself mentioned the possibility of a red herring, and we could be spending our resources elsewhere.”

 “To say nothing of the fact that Parapsychology as a ‘science’ has turned up no material evidence in its fifty years of research,” Mac pulled up the rear, “that’s a strain if ever I saw one.”

 “Ah, but Dr Winslow has offered himself as a resource,” Phryne objected, “he doesn’t need to be a strain.”

 “Don’t pretend we won’t have to keep a lid on local curiosities if he suddenly appears on the scene with a truck full of spectro-scopes, or whatever a Psychic Investigator uses,” Jack said.

 Mac couldn’t help but chuckle at that, the image it conjured far too amusing to really entertain as a serious conversation. Phryne felt it too, and she was pleased with the change, as far as the gloomy alternative was concerned. She allowed the banter for Jack’s sake. “I hear nothing dispels unhelpful rumours like a team of scientists secretly investing time and money into the source,” Mac finished blithely.

 And with that, Jack pressed it a step too far, “And who’s going to keep an eye on him while he does his ‘observing’?”  

 Phryne lept at it.

 “I will,” she said firmly, that sparkle of victory returning.

 Jack stopped.

 Damn it.

 Damn it all.

 *~*~*  

[caliboyjaeffrey]

Crowded (Jinho x Reader)

Rating: PG-13-ish, with some suggestive themes

(A/N) Ayyy it’s been awhile peanuts! Sorry for not uploading regularly, my second semester is winding down and finals are arriving so I have to really buckle down and study! I thought I would give you all a little something something to bide you over until summer comes for me next week lol So, here’s some fluffy w/ some smol spice: JINHO AKA MY PENTAGON BIAS AND HIGHKEY THE MOST ADORABLE AND DADDY-ISH PIECE OF GLITTER THIS SIDE OF THE GALAXY SERIOUSLY HE IS SO TALENTED AMAZINGGGGGGGG. Anyway, please enjoy! 

You'd never thought in your whole life about leaving your small town, nestled in the tall green mountains of the countryside. You were content to stay there and live out your days, maybe start your own shop, become a teacher, grow a garden...who knows, the possibilities were endless. At least, your little naive brain liked to trick you into thinking like that.

Maybe you wanted more.

Your town was hearty and practical, close and tight knit like a brand new sweater. You knew every person's name by heart, and have grown up with the people your age since day one. You'd thought to yourself many times, you'd probably marry and grow old with one of the boys you'd met in preschool. But that all changed when Jo Jinho and his family came tumbling in one hot summer with bright eyes and warm hugs. Of course, the town had met them with the same enthusiasm, happy and ecstatic to have brand new faces after so long. People thought they were there for vacation away from the great bustling city they called home, but shocked everyone when they said they were going to stay. You'd been in your senior year of high school then, their son Jinho a year or two older than yourself. And you were completely head over heels for him. He seemed like a whole different breed of boy from the other country bumpkins who courted you. Not to discount them or their sweetness, but Jinho was something sophisticated, modern, and new. Nothing like you'd ever seen before in your small town world. You lived on the tallest hill in the town, and nestled right at the bottom of it was Jinho and his family. You rolled your bike past his house every evening after school, and he would be sat outside, singing softly to himself and throwing you a shy smile whenever he caught you looking. That's how it started out between the two of you, slow and shy, glances and small conversation, discrete touches and excuses to have one another over for dinner. Then one day you found yourself wearing your prettiest dress and sandals outside in your yard with a glass of lemonade, Jinho suddenly popping up from the hill out of breath. He had given no indication at all as to why he was there, simply collapsing on top of you and pressing the lips that you'd only dreamed about for weeks onto yours. You remember your drink slipping out of your hand and bouncing on the springy grass, trickling down the sides of your leg and soaking your dress. You couldn't care less as you wove your fingers through Jinho's soft hair and tasted everything you'd never had in your life. Jinho had easily swept you away from the other boys of your town and made you his, news traveling fast in such a small place. Both sets of parents could already hear wedding bells and you'd only been dating for a year. Now that you had graduated high school, you weren't sure what exactly you were supposed to do. Jinho, for all his knowledge and worldliness, always suggested staying right where you were. He dreamed of starting a family with you and maybe opening up a shop, a small farmer's market. "I have that picture painted in my head," he would murmur against your neck, lips pressing to your skin like a brand, marking you as his. You'd hum, eyes closed as his hands traveled across your bare skin on one of those rare nights where he would spend the night with you, not sleeping until the sun rose. "But what about being a singer, Jinho?," you'd turn to him, eyes wide and hopeful. That's when he would sigh and smile wryly, "I just don't know if I'm good enough for that to happen." It always broke your heart to see Jinho not believe in the fact he was incredibly gifted, his voice something crafted by gods. He could croon the sweetest lullabies and belt out the highest of notes, no one in any of the towns over could match him. Before his family moved away from the city, Jinho had planned on auditioning for one of those big fancy entertainment agencies that groomed shiny, perfect performers. You didn't want to see a perfect Jinho though, because to you, he already was. Why ruin something that was already fine? "But why not try to audition? Like you said you were going to before you moved," you smoothed your hand over his lean chest, placing a kiss over his heart as the moon rose higher and higher in the sky. He looked down at your quizzically, quirking an eyebrow that you could spot in the white lunar light. He rolled over and pinned you underneath him, trying to regain control of the conversation, "Don't you realize what that means though? If I were to audition and make it, we'd have to move to the city. Leave everyone behind." You could feel every spot where his skin pressed against yours, burning into your body, "I wouldn't mind, because it doesn't have to be forever. I've never been anyway and it's always interested me. I've only ever seen skyscrapers on tv, Jinho, I want to go at least once." He smiled at your words, leaning down and kissing you on the mouth softly, "How about I think about it?" You nodded, lacing your fingers with his, whispering against his lips, "I just want your dreams to come true, Jinho. I want you to do what you love." Jinho felt himself melt at your words as he murmured, "You're my dream, baby girl." You blushed and turned away from his intense gaze with a smile, unable to respond to his genuine adoration. He knew that you felt the same way though, knew that you cared just the same as he did. With cool fingers, his hands trailed to places that weren't so innocent, making your cheeks go rosy for a different reason. His soft voice was playful and teasing, laced with something like lust, "And I do what I love." He kissed down your body, gazing up at you through his lashes, his eyes erotic and dark, "I do her quite often actually." And mindblowingly well too, if you might add.

A few weeks had passed since that conversation and you thought Jinho would never bring it up again. One morning, though, over breakfast and coffee, he cleared his throat and took a deep breath, "I bought two train tickets." You looked at him, confused and lost, "Train tickets...?" It dawned on you suddenly, eyes growing big and mouth stretching into a grin, "Train tickets?!" He nodded sheepishly, chuckling as you rushed around the table to leap into his arms, "We leave early tomorrow. My audition is in the evening that day, so we can't dilly dally." "I can't believe this is happening," you smiled, cupping his cheek affectionately and kissing his nose. "I'm so proud of you, baby." He blushed, but you knew deep down he was eating your praise up, "Let's just hope I do well." "I know you will," you laughed, then smirking at him suggestively as you settled into his lap, "I know you do a lot of things well." He mirrored your smirk, thumbs already tracing hypnotic circles on your thighs, "I think I need some practice before tomorrow though." You leaned in and placed light kisses on his jaw, flushing when you heard him sigh in appreciation. You couldn't wait for Jinho to audition tomorrow, everything felt so right and nothing could possibly go wrong.

The train ride there had been slow and quiet, picturesque views lolling you to sleep until you woke to your boyfriend shaking you. "Wake up, ______," he murmured with a smile, his eyes already weary looking. You were stunned by the sights that met you when you exited the train station, the city was absolutely blinding. Never in your life have you seen so many people, feeling like a single grain of sand on a beach. "Jinho...," you whispered, taking a hold of his hand. "It's so..." "Crowded?," he offered, already tugging you along down the busy street. "Amazing," you replied, eyes wide as sauces as you gaped and gasped at sky scrapers and wonky looking modern art. There were so many sounds, sights, and smells, you almost had sensory overload. "The entertainment company isn't too far away," Jinho said, his grip on your hand secure as his head swiveled around to read different street signs. "It's called Cube something or another, so look out for that." "Cube. Gotcha," you affirmed, nodding at his words and only half listening as you admired everything around you. You and Jinho walked for a few blocks, stopping once at an incredibly aesthetically pleasing cafe for you to grab some coffee, before you reached the agency. Cube Entertainment looked fashionable and sleek alongside the other buildings of Gangnam, blending in seamlessly with its surroundings. "There she is," you sighed, stopping with your boyfriend in front of the building. "There she is," he echoed, tightening his grip on your hand before leading you inside the glass doors. You were both greeted by a handsome receptionist, looking straight out of a magazine as he cheerfully hailed, "Welcome to Cube Entertainment, do you have an appointment?" Jinho let go of your hand for the first time since the train, your fingers cramping as you realized what a death grip he had had on you. You couldn't help but see the way his hands shook as he slung off his backpack and pulled out some papers, "I do. A private audition? Under the name Jo Jinho?" The receptionist looked him up and down with a scrutinizing eye, obviously none too impressed with your boyfriend's appearance. Your blood boiled, making you lean your cheek protectively against Jinho's shoulder as the man looked over his papers and searched him on the computer. Maybe your boyfriend wasn't a giant beanstalk or over six feet tall, but that didn't mean he couldn't kick someone's ass. You huffed, but Jinho looked down at you with a tired smile, calming you instantly. The receptionist spoke up, "Ah yes, I see your name scheduled here. Right on time as well." The man walked out from behind the counter, gesturing toward a corridor, "If you'll follow me Mr. Jo." You went to make a move with Jinho when the man suddenly stopped you, "I'm afraid she'll have to stay outside of the building. Auditions are a private meeting." You instantly felt distressed and so did your boyfriend, who turned to you with a brave face. His voice was uncharacteristically softer than usual, "You'll be okay, right? I'll have my phone on me no matter what, alright?" You nodded, your lip trembling like a child's as you leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek, "I'll be fine. I'm a big girl after all." "That's my girl," he smiled, leaning down to kiss you chastely. "I love you. Call me if anything happens." "Okay, I love you too," you murmured, watching as Jinho trailed after the man who looked far too annoyed for his own good. You took a deep breath, turning to walk back outside of the entertainment company's building. After the strange quiet of the reception room, you were wholly unprepared for the cacophony of noise that greeted you as soon as you walked out. Construction, car horns, loud music, people talking, it was a madhouse of sound that assaulted your ears and made your pulse quicken. You felt incredibly alone without Jinho with you, and overwhelmed. "Jeez," you mumbled to yourself, searching for someplace that might offer you refuge from the noise for the time being. You don't think you could stand outside the building for one more moment. You searched frantically up and down the street with your eyes for some sort of cafe or shop you could stay in. You decided to try a hip looking cafe that seemed to have a lot of people your age hanging at it. You walked inside hurriedly, having crossed the street at a sprint because cars began to honk at you for accidentally jay walking. You weren't even sure how crosswalks worked entirely, so you had just decided to book it. You couldn't even begin to imagine what Jinho would have done if he saw you do that, he'd probably would have had a stroke. You squeezed into the cafe, heart sinking as you realized how crowded it was. You had no other choice though, it was either this or the chaos of the street, and you'd rather take your chances here. You looked around for a table, finding one suitable enough for you and plopping down there. You weren't sure how long Jinho's audition would last, but he would call you most likely when he was done. No biggie, right? You weren't usually this clingy, but for some reason you felt incredibly anxious not having your boyfriend beside you. Your head was pounding and heart racing as you tried to take in everything that was happening in the cafe. Baristas were yelling behind a counter, coffee bean grinders screamed loudly, and people chattered in a mindless manner underneath all the noise. You took a shaky breath, eyes beginning to tear up as realized it was just as bad in here too. You don't know what your thought process was, but you gathered your things with blurry eyes, intent on leaving this place. You let out a small sob as you ran out of the cafe, looking wildly up and down the street for the Cube Entertainment building. Suddenly, the building had disappeared and nothing looked familiar anymore, everything was blurring together and looking the same. Your heart raced, tears streaming down your face as you ran down the street. You could call Jinho, but what if he was singing? This was his dream and you didn't care if you had a panic attack in the middle of traffic, so long as he could do his audition. You wouldn't call him, not until he called you. You kept running, gasping for breath as you realized you were in a park now. The welcoming sight of trees a beacon in the hurricane of sensations. You collapsed behind one of the tall trees that lined the sidewalk of the park, your back leaning against the scratchy bark was a comfort. You couldn't stop crying though, no matter how hard you tried to plug your ears, the sound wouldn't go away. You were suddenly hit with an idea. You rummaged through your bag, pulling out your headphones and popping them into your ears. You pulled out your phone and plugged them in, searching quickly to find what you were looking for. The moment you heard Jinho's voice come through the speakers, you calmed down. You were playing a recording you had taken of Jinho singing at your last birthday, his voice smooth and happy. You wiped at your tears, wanting them to stop, wanting to be stronger for your boyfriend. You couldn't help but bury your face into your hands, wanting above all for Jinho to help you.

After what had felt like hours, your phone began to ring, and you woke up from your numbing trance to see your boyfriend's name on the screen. You answered instantly, voice cracking as fresh tears of relief spilled down your cheeks, "J-Jinho?" "_______?! Where the hell are you?," he asked, his voice full of worry. You bit your lip, realizing how angry he sounded as you stuttered, "I don't really know. One moment I was at a coffee shop and the next I ended up in a park-. Please Jinho, I'm so scared and I don't know where to go-" "Stay right where you are," he commanded, curt and short. "I'm coming to get you." "Okay," you replied, but realized he had already hung up on you when the line started beeping rhythmically. He was completely furious no doubt, but what were you supposed to have done? It was probably twenty minutes before you saw Jinho walking down the path, eyes frantic as he searched for you. He looked like a wreck, clothes and hair askew and his bottom lip worried between his teeth. You instantly ran toward him, coming out from your hiding spot behind the tree, "Jinho!" "_______!," he gasped as you leaped into his arms, holding you in an iron grip. He buried his face into your neck and you felt the moisture of his cheeks as tears fell down his handsome face as well. "I was so scared Jinho, I'm so sorry," you wept, digging your fingers into the soft folds of his sweatshirt and relishing the fact he was there with you. "Why didn't you call me?," he exasperated, holding you out at an arm's length. "I told you-" "I know," you stopped him, looking down at your toes in shame. "But I just couldn't Jinho, I didn't want to ruin your audition!" "Nothing matters more to me than you," he said firmly, his eyes hard as he cupped your face. "Not money, not a stupid audition, not anyone else." You smiled, kissing him once on the mouth before pulling away and looking at him earnestly, "And that's why I didn't call you. Because you matter the most to me, Jinho, and that includes your dreams." Your boyfriend looked at you with eyes so wide they swallowed you whole, he looked completely shaken by that statement. He pulled you close again, his lips brushing against your ear, "Thank you, baby girl." His voice was soft as velvet, "You're the first person to really believe in me." He kept you there, his arms on you tightening, "I have good news." You held him just as tight, toes curling in anticipation and smile already spreading wide, "And what's that?" He finally leaned back, looking at you with eyes full of happiness, "I passed the audition. I've been put into a project called Pentagon. It's still not definitive and we can't tell anyone but-" You cried out in joy, Jinho picking you up and spinning you around as you both laughed and cried again. You grabbed your boyfriend's face and peppered it with kisses, connecting your lips to any exposed skin. The kisses started out chaste enough, until Jinho got it in his head to take control of it himself. Soon his tongue had slipped into your mouth and the kiss was no longer innocent. You let out a small sound of surprise, making his hold on you tighten. He pulled away with a groan, looking down at you in adoration and lust, "Baby, I need-" You were already nodding, tugging him along, "What hotel were we staying at again?" "Already on it," he replied, his grip on your waist tugging you close, so you were never too far away. With your exhaustion gone and joy pouring from your heart for Jinho, you decided that some celebrating was definitely well deserved. And he certainly deserved a reward or two after his audition...and for all the trouble you have him.

[delcat177]

I’m trying to get @qglas interested in Ghost Trick, and she wants to give it a go, but I went “You know what we should do first?  A character panel”, and she agreed.  I had a hard time choosing from the cast, but I think I got a good cross-section.

This is actually the highest-scoring round Megan has ever had, I am impressed.

POINTS AWARDED AND HIGHLIGHTS GIVEN AFTER CUT

Me: Oh shit, I should change that out of Comic Sans Megan: No you shouldn’t Me: Yeah you’re right

Sissel: “That’s not a hat, it’s his hair.” I am wondering now if there’s art team overlap between GT and EBA.  SCORE: 5/10, a pretty good guess, but a definite guess.

Lynne: “Why are you so obsessed with naming someone in all of these Rosie?” I want to make fun considering Lynne’s...circumstances (again, Megan may play GT yet so I’m being careful not to spoil), but honestly, all things considered, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she was super resourceful like that. SCORE: 7/10, the "too nice for Team Rocket” bit makes it for me.

Missile: “*cough* Pomeranian” Only comment is I wish I had realized the blue was much more readable beforehand. SCORE: We’re going straight to the 10/10 here, breed confusion aside there is nothing wrong.

Cabanela: “God, you know, you’re right, that’s terribly dangerous.” I can’t believe there is a legit chicken-based character and Megan landed the designation elsewhere.  I need to do some ESP testing. SCORE: 8/10, I think it’s real close on some points.  I also want all of Cabanela’s moves named now, the Hawk Promenade can be him descending a flight of stairs.

One Step Tengo: “Oh my God you are murdering me.” There was an issue finding character art that showed Jeeg and Tenny are two different characters.  I gave space to comment.  I GAVE SPACE. SCORE: 0/10 go 2 Azul School

Nearsighted Jeego: "Wait, is this a different guy?” “YES...” She clicked them open to compare and then gave her commentary.  I crie. SCORE: 1/10 “grumpy” is not a bad descriptor and yes okay I laughed

Dandy: “*laughing at Megan laughing hysterically*” On JUST DANDY’S PIC the font was like FOUR TIMES THE ASSIGNED SIZE and it murdered me.  Just a giant banner of THIS MOTHERFUCKER RIGHT HERE that ran straight off the pic.  I love it. SCORE: 10/10, I don’t think there’s a better response let’s be honest

Beauty: “It’s a riding crop...” “I CALLS ‘EM AS I SEES ‘EM” It was at this point that Megan started complimenting me on “this Belgian noir game you found”. SCORE: 10/10, not least because while I haven’t seen terrible porn of Beauty, it’s because I haven’t looked.

Kamila: “AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW” “*nods approvingly*” At first I thought I didn’t have the heart to tell Megan that’s just part of her dress or an ascot or something, but then looked at other art and realized...I’m not actually sure it ISN’T a gem.  A gem made of candy.  Either way... SCORE: 10/10 somebody fukken Kickstart Sailor Kamila and Moon Missile I want it (also the "having a major plot point on hand” actually nails it)

The Novelist Emma (she has a name wow): “Do you mean full of Rembrandts or lined with? ...no, it’s a good response, I was just making sure.” The third round of obsessively naming characters Rosie, and she doesn’t name the woman with a ROSE FOR HAIR Rosie.  Swing and a miss. SCORE: 8/10, I have to dock points on the “small dog lady” for obvious reasons, but I want it to be canon that she is on her 15th spouse and happens to own an opera house.

BONUS: The plot of the game [apparently entitled Mob Overwatch] as explained by Megan: “It is a hardboiled oldfashioned gumshoe noir set in Berlin but somehow involving Japanese schoolgirls.  They are on the case of the madame who owns the opera house and all its sleazy behind the scenes activities.  The dog helps solve the crime.  Team Rocket is there.  They are not helpful.  There is a minigame involving betting German coins.  There is also a minigame where you pop bubbles.” SCORE: ...honestly it’s like a 7/10 and that says a lot

FINAL TALLY: I vote for the Azuls to be collectively renamed Blue Team Rocket, Kamila to get Sailor Scout powers (OR SHOW THEM MAYBE THEY JUST DIDN’T MANIFEST??), and for somebody to give my poor nerds some love because dUNKED AGAIN

really though not bad

dear GT buddies Dandy is forever rebranded to THIS MOTHERFUCKER RIGHT HERE in chat get used to it

[wallpapernifty]

Now Is The Time For You To Know The Truth About Pink Hydrangea | Pink Hydrangea

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[ibilenews]

Live bird markets are coming back in China by popular demand after coronavirus outbreak

BEIJING - China is reopening some live bird markets in the south of the country because that's the way the locals like their fowl - freshly killed.

"We only buy chicken slaughtered in the markets to ensure that the meat is fresh, and it's more delicious than the chilled variety sold in supermarkets," said Rosie Luo, a student from Foshan city, Guangdong province.

While live animal markets are suspected of being the source of the novel coronavirus and some other diseases, the authorities had no choice but to let them reopen because some people won't buy their meat anywhere else.

And that's important in a year when people need a cheap alternative to pork, which is in short supply because of virus lockdowns and African swine fever.

Poultry consumption in its various forms is rebounding as the country recovers from the coronavirus outbreak. That's partly down to a plunge in pork output, which fell almost 30 per cent in the first quarter from a year earlier, as swine fever cut herds and the lockdowns disrupted transport and labour.

Worsening pork shortages should push up demand for chicken as sales of fast food, such as burgers, delivered to people's homes and of chilled meat in supermarkets are seen rising, according to Kong Pingtao, general manager at agriculture industry portal www.boyar.cn.

LIVE FOWL PREFERRED

Poultry producers are responding. Wens Foodstuffs Group Co, the country's largest breeder, said chicken sales rose 18 per cent in March from a year earlier as consumption recovered from the coronavirus. Sales of baby chicks by Shandong Yisheng Livestock and Poultry Breeding were up almost 30 per cent. That will help boost demand for soybean meal and corn used in animal feed.

Back in the live bird markets, the agriculture ministry asked some provinces last month to reopen them gradually to help poultry production recover. Eight provinces, including Guangdong, the top chicken consuming area, have done so, though most are still closed, according to an industry survey.

A live bird wholesale market in the city of Dongguan, Guangdong province, resumed business last month because the locals prefer live fowl instead of chilled meat, said an official reached by phone, without giving his name. Still, some local governments, including Fujian, Guizhou and Chongqing, have shuttered their markets indefinitely, according to local media reports.

"Most live bird markets will eventually disappear, but it will be difficult to shut down all the markets across the country," said Pan Chenjun, a senior livestock analyst with Rabobank. "In some rural areas where consumers have a strong preference for live birds, I would assume they might exist for a longer time."

Another obstacle to the demise of live markets are the differing sizes of yellow-feathered chickens that are bred mainly in the southern provinces, which would present a challenge for modern slaughterhouses, said Pan.

The yellow birds are a favourite with people living south of the Yangtze River, according to Kong from the industry portal. They are used for soup, and well-known dishes, such as Baizhan chicken, where the meat is poached and served cold, and Yanju chicken, baked in salt.