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dduane · 4 months

Note

I just received a copy of a book I've been very much looking forward to by a favorite author, but the quality of the book itself is... not great. Cheap paper, weak binding, even a weird illustration of the main character on the cover that I'm having trouble believing the author approved. Obviously, I don't want to leave a bad review on Amazon or GoodReads or anywhere, as I'm 100% certain the content is as excellent as her other work. But how can I best let the publisher (Baen) know I'm disappointed without threatening to never buy her books again? Because, well, if this is the only option, I'm gonna keep buying them even in my disappointment.

Well, the first thing I thought when I read this was "Wow, I'm really glad I don't have anything in print from Baen at the moment except a couple of anthologized short stories." :)

As for the rest of it, let's take it point by point.

Adding a cut here, because this will run a bit long. Caution: contains auctorial bitching and moaning, painful illustrations of cases in point, and brief advice on how to complain most effectively. (Also links to paintings of cats.)

Cheap paper: This has been an accurate complaint since well before COVID—and it's often been worse since, with supply chain issues also being involved. That said: one way publishers routinely save money on printing books, especially the bigger ones, is by going for thinner/cheaper paper. I remember one of our UK editors going on at great length and with huge annoyance—during one of those late-night convention-bar bitch sessions—over how the only way they could get some really good books published (because Upstairs insisted on reducing the per-copy production costs) was by reducing the paper quality to the point where you could nearly read through it. Sacrificing decent text size(s) also became part of this. Nobody in editorial was happy about the result: but there wasn't much they could do.

Bad bindings: Similar problem. Sewn bindings used to be a thing in paperbacks... but not any more: not for a good while, now. These days, it's all glue. Even hardcovers are showing up glued rather than sewn. Don't get me started. :/ (This is why I so treasure some of the oldest paperbacks I've acquired, which are actually sewn.)

Crap covers: I've had my share of these—though my share of some really good ones, too. And one of the endless frustrations of traditional publishing is that the writer routinely has little or even no influence over what the cover will look like... let alone how much will be spent on it, or (an often-related issue) how good the execution will be.

There are of course exceptions. If you're working at the, well, @neil-gaiman -esque level or similar in publishing, a lot more attention is going to be paid to your thoughts. You may even be able to get "cover veto" written into your contracts, so that if you disapprove, changes will get made. But without actual contractual stipulations, the writer has zero legal recourse or way to withhold approval. (And I bet even Neil has some horror stories.)

The normal workflow looks like this. After a book's purchased, its editor and the art director discuss what it's about and what the cover should look like. The art director then hires an artist and tells them what to do. After that, the artist executes their vision and gets paid. It is incredibly rare for a writer to have any significant input into this process. And as to whether or not they approve of the final result, well... the publisher mostly just shrugs and goes back to eyeing the bottom line, muttering "Who told them they get a vote?"

Now, I've been seriously lucky to occasionally be an exception in this regard. In particular, my editors at Harcourt (when Jane Yolen and Michael Stearns were editing Harcourt's Magic Carpet YA imprint) would ask me what I thought would be a good idea for the next Young Wizards cover, and I'd think about it a bit and send them back a paragraph or so about some core scene. They'd then talk to their art director, and after that send their notes and mine to Cliff Nielsen (who started doing the covers for the hardcover and mass-market paperback editions of the series in the mid-90s) or to Greg Swearingen (who was the artist on the digest-format editions). And the results, by and large, were pretty good. ...I also think affectionately of the UK artist Mick Posen, who insisted on seeing pictures of our cats before painting the covers for the Hodder editions of The Book of Night with Moon and On Her Majesty's Wizardly Service (the UK title for To Visit The Queen).

But this kind of treatment is a courtesy—not even vaguely suggested in the books' contracts, and very much the exception to the rule. And for every writer who's midlist, there are times when the luck runs out. For example: one time I wrote a book that was an AU-Earth-near-future fantasy police procedural, thematically pretty dark—dealing with issues of abuse of megacorporate power, institutionalized bigotry, and (explicitly) attempted genocide. And the cover, done by an artist who's a good friend and some of whose fabulous art hangs in our house, came out looking like this. It was... let's just say "not ideally representative."

So I was glad, when my local workflow allowed it, to recover the current, revised version of the book with something at least a little more apropos. But the original cover's not the artist's fault. He did what the art director told him... as a cover artist must do to get paid, and (ideally) to get hired again. At present, that's how the system works.

...So. You've got a badly-built and -presented book on your hands. How best to make your feelings known in some way that might make a difference down the line? (As you make it plain that you'll keep buying this author's books this way if you must.)

First of all: when (as part of my psych nursing training) we were taught how to complain most effectively, we were told that the first and most basic rule of the art is this:

Only Complain To Someone Who Can Actually Do Something About Your Problem

So I salute your desire not to waste your time taking the issue to the reviews on Amazon, or the pages of Goodreads... because they can't do anything. The odds that anyone from production at Baen is reading the comments there strike me as... well, not infinitesimally small, not being hit-by-a-meteorite-while-in-the-shopping-center-parking-lot small... but really low.

So: write to corporate.

In your place I would go online and rummage around a bit to find out who's on record as the publisher at Baen. I would then write them a letter on paper. And I would lay out the problem pretty much as you laid it out up at the top.

The tone I think I'd choose would be the more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger approach. I'd say, "I write to comment about your recently published book by [X Writer], whose work I love. I have to say, though, that I don't think the cover on [X Book] is terribly representative of the quality of the prose inside. And also, the construction and production quality of the book itself was a disappointment to me because [here spell out why].

"I'd really like to see [X. Writer's] books succeed with you, and I'd like to buy more of them without wondering whether I was going to be disappointed again. But if this is typical of how they're being produced, I'd also be concerned that the state of these books is setting up a situation in which the author's sales will be damaged, and you would stop publishing them... which would really be a shame. Whereas on the other hand, better production quality could keep previous purchasers coming back and buying, not only more books by this author, but books by others whom you publish."

This phrasing, as you'll have seen, walks a bit wide around the issue of your further purchases, while directing attention toward the bottom line... which will routinely be what the publisher's looking at from day to day. And—being, one has to hope, in possession of the wider picture as regards what's going on with their production costs—maybe they can actually do something about it.

Anyway, nothing ventured, nothing gained, yeah? It's worth a try. All you can do is hope for the best.

And finally: please know that I admire your commitment to the author: whoever she is, she's lucky to have you. It's a terrific thing to have readers who'll willing to spend the time to hunt you down, and who're willing not to judge a book by its cover. :)

#reader issues #books #production quality #covers #bad covers

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sebsxphia · 3 months

Text

shopping lists.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ summary: you rush to the shops after work to do a quick food shop, but bob floyd was not on your shopping list.

￫ word count: 3.3K.

￫ warnings: mentions of food, supermarkets, feeling hungry and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ authors notes: my description of the supermarket is based off uk supermarkets, so i apologise if there’s inaccuracies to us supermarkets! this also hasn’t been proof read. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Bob was starving.

He cursed himself under his breath as he drove back from base. He had the driver's window in his baby blue truck rolled down and his forearm resting on the side, his fingers pushing through the sticky summer air as he drove. Air conditioning alone wouldn’t keep him cool, as he still wore his flight suit from training earlier that day. He could feel how the ring of sweat around his neck was sticking to his collar, but he simply didn’t have the time or willpower to shower and change on base.

It had just gone five o’clock in the afternoon and he had gotten off later than he expected. He would’ve already had a small meal to keep him going until dinner by now, but low and behold, when he awoke this morning, as the sun was only a crack along the horizon, he realized he had no substantial food in his fridge.

Bob was a planner. He would do his fortnightly shop routinely, but something came up at work and it had simply slipped his mind. The only thing he could do now was drive as fast as he could to the supermarket, slip in, whisk around the aisles in record time and drive back home to cook something up in under an hour. He had another early start the next morning and as always, he had a routinely early bedtime.

Being a pilot made his reactions lightening fast. This would be easy for him.

As he pulled into the car park and zoned in on a space, he noticed another car also going for the same spot.

You were inches away from the space and although he was in a hunger-fueled rush, being the ever polite gentleman that he was, he let you go for it. Through the glare of the late afternoon sun reflecting off your windshield, he couldn’t quite make out the person driving, but he saw how you politely lifted your hand off the steering wheel to motion, “Thanks!”

Bob responded in turn with his wave and warm smile. He drove a little further forward past your car to find another space and the reflecting sun moved against your windshield to reveal you in a clearer light. You had the sweetest little smile as you thanked Bob. Your lips curled up to meet the creases in the corners of your eyes and your cheeks were a sweet rosy colour.

As he drove away and around the corner of the car park, Bob chewed at the inside of his cheek, still with a small smile twitching on his lips. He had a small hope that he would see you inside, only because he wanted to let you know that he was more than happy to give you the spot.

No other reason.

He was pulled out of his thoughts about your sweet smile as he felt his stomach grumble furiously. After doing a loop around, he managed to find a spot at the opposite end of the car park. He of course cursed himself again under his breath for going shopping at peak hours after everyone had finished work on a weekday, but he only blamed himself. He didn’t blame you. You were simply there first.

The almost freezing blast of air conditioner on his face as he entered the supermarket, was a welcomed change to the ever-growing humid air outside. The tiny, blonde baby hairs on the back of his sweat-coated neck stood up momentarily, as the icy air flowed down and through his flight suit. He felt himself cool down almost instantly. He pulled up with a shopping cart and started with fruits and vegetables at the front of the store. He was desperate to move fast, but his boots were heavy and searingly hot with every step he took around the aisles. That was the only spot on his body that the air conditioning could not reach.

As he came to the end of the fruits and vegetables section, he turned to reach for the tomatoes when suddenly a flurry swooped by him. It caught his attention instantly and he whipped his head around, with his torso moving inwards towards the tomatoes to avoid bumping into whoever had just swept by him.

It was you. The same person in the car park who he had given his space to. He observed as you descended the cheese and yoghurt aisle.

A small lump got caught in his throat and he swallowed thickly, as he watched how your sundress swished around your bare calves. He couldn’t help but let his cobalt blue eyes from behind his glasses, glance over you. Bob was raised right by his mom. He was respectful and well-mannered, but the simple and undeniable fact was, that you were the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on. Even from the glow of the cool light down the food aisle, it could not diminish your luminescence.

He reached his slender index finger up to his glasses and pushed them up his nose ever so slightly. The prior sudden movement had caused them to jolt down the bridge of his nose by a centimetre.

As you walked straight down the aisle and turned to face the cheese selection, the delicate material of your sundress moved back into place to frame your body. It rippled over each curve of your figure and Bob’s heartbeat doubled in time when he caught sight of your soft belly in your sundress. He sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth as he wondered for a fleeting second, how soft your belly would feel to hold when his face was buried between your thighs.

He registered the smile creases in the corners of your eyes. The same ones that he noticed first in the parking lot and how they narrowed to read the label in front of you. Your eyelashes fluttered against one another as you blinked against the glaring light humming above you. As you raked over your options, he watched how your teeth grazed over your bottom lip and chewed nimbly at it. The same habit he had.

He needed some cheese and yoghurt himself, so perhaps he could catch you there.

Bob meandered some meters behind you and acted as if he was choosing his yoghurt option. He already knew what he needed. The same yoghurt he’d had for the past five years, but he was drawn to you. Like a moth to the radiating flame.

He cocked his head behind him to glance in your direction and you had already moved down the aisle to assess your next grocery choice. He took his multipack of yoghurts, placed it in his cart and wheeled it around to stand by you, again acting as if he was evaluating his cheese choice. From behind his glasses, he took another sideways glance. You were performing a balancing act of holding your shopping basket’s flimsy handles, holding the cheese in your other hand and somehow holding open a small notebook and crossing out the presumed item, with a pen.

At a glance, Bob saw how inside your notebook was filled with lots of little scribbles, and crossed-out parts and as you went to close it, the front cover was decorated with sweet little stickers.

“Jesus Christ. That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” He thought to himself.

As you went to slide the pen back into the elasticated band, it slipped from your balancing act and slid along the dotted tiles of the supermarket, straight for Bob’s direction. It hit the sole of his boots and he heard your voice for the first time.

“Ah, shit.” It was muttered under your breath with annoyance, but he thought your voice sounded like sweet honey.

Before his thought process could catch up to him, he wondered if you tasted like sweet honey.

You spoke directly to Bob this time, as you scurried over and bent down to pick up the pen by his boots. He caught a fleeting glance at the swell of your breasts, resting in your sundress.

You laughed out faintly with your apology. “I’m sorry, my mistake—”

As you moved too quickly with embarrassment to pick up your pen, your flimsy shopping basket was swinging and the cheese you were holding also fell out of your grasp.

“Ah! Fuck.” You quietly cursed again to yourself, or so you thought.

Bob had caught your second string of curses to you accidentally dropping something and he thought it was rather cute.

“Here, let me.” He chuckled to himself as he squatted down to reach for your cheese and pen.

Both now standing upright, he handed your belongings back to you and felt how the palms of your hands were as soft as butter against his fingertips. You looked at each other directly and now without the glare of your windshield, he could finally see every delicate feature that made up your beautiful face. He thought that you were so pretty.

You went to open your mouth and speak, but your words got caught on your tongue. This kind stranger was incredibly handsome. He looked smart with his clean-shaven face and his dusty blonde hair parted neatly to one side, with a thick swoop. His rounded glasses didn’t have a single smudge on them and his cheeks were round as he smiled at you, although it still didn't take away from his strong cheekbones and firm jaw.

You blinked in a flurry as you took in his build. You were accustomed to seeing pilots around here with the air base being so close to town, but it was rare to see one in what you presumed was a flight suit of some kind. It was deep forest green in colour and harmoniously blended against his striking eyes from behind his glasses. It wasn’t tightly fitted, yet still, his broad shoulders and firm biceps were flexing against the coarse material. His thighs stood strong with his heavy boots planted firmly against the tiled floor. He was tall and practically towered over you, but he respectfully kept a distance between you both.

“I’m sorry again, thank you.” You smiled bashfully at him. Your eyelashes were still fluttering against one another and your rounded cheeks were dusted pink.

Bob couldn’t help himself. He grinned as he shook his head and politely rejected your apology.

“No need to apologise, Ma’am. It’s all good.”

Suddenly your eyes widened and your eyebrows raised with them.

The glimmer from the overhead light in the supermarket made your eyes sparkle with such an inviting glow.

“Oh! You were the nice guy in the parking lot! You let me take your space!” You pointed your finger towards him. His truck was significantly higher than your car and you were only able to get a glance at his face from behind your windshield.

Bob let out a chuckle and waved his large hand in front of him, diminishing the idea. He further wanted to wave off the ever-growing flush of heat that was creeping up from his chest. It flushed over his neck and cheeks and sat right under his glasses. The blasting air conditioning had once again failed him and his chest, neck and cheeks were now flushed warm.

“Oh, hey. Not at all, it wasn’t my space. You had it, fair and square.”

You giggled in response. His respectful and polite demeanour had your stomach feeling as though a million and one butterflies were fluttering through you, making their way up through your heart and coming out of your mouth with sweet giggles.

“Alright, thanks again though, I appreciate it. I was in such a rush after work. Always the way, isn’t it?”

You laughed again and the sound flowed to Bob’s ears, making his playful smile reach the tips of his ears.

“Tell me about it.” He agreed with a grin.

You flashed a last beaming smile at Bob as the conversation between two strangers in a supermarket came to its natural end and you turned around to continue following your shopping list.

That’s what he thought.

As you turned down the aisle, you once again cursed at yourself for not being more forward, flirtatious, or whatever it would be that would land you his number. He was gorgeous. Undeniably handsome. And he was so stupidly charming and polite.

You turned on a quick heel to see if he was still there, but he had disappeared and you were left alone in the chilled aisle, with nothing to comfort you but your notebook and the static overhead lights.

Bob too mentally scolded himself for not asking such a pretty sweetheart like yourself for your number. As he watched you turn away, he chewed on his bottom lip, curled his fists tightly, released them and then walked away.

He was a gentleman. He would not harass someone if they didn’t show a sign of being interested in him. But he was sure you were. He had a sharp and watchful eye, and he saw how rosy your cheeks turned and how your chest stuttered slightly as your breath got caught in your throat. But he was pulled out of his battling thoughts but his stomach grumbly furiously at him again.

He whisked down the remaining aisles to finish his shop, still with the hope of a fleeting chance to see you again, but he couldn’t ignore what his body was telling him. As he checked out, tapped his card on the machine and wheeled his shopping cart out of the store, he still had both his trained eyes on his surroundings. Just in case there was a single chance, a perfect moment, where he could catch you. Bob had been extremely methodical about his choices in life and he only ever perused something if he was certain. He had never been so utterly and completely sure that you were the one for him.

He fished his truck keys out of his flight suit pocket and just as he was about to turn the key in the door, he remembered.

“Fuck. Tomatoes.”

Bob didn’t need a list. It was all written down mentally and he rarely forgot things, but he remembered that as he was about to reach for the tomatoes, you came by earlier in a flurry. He would’ve called it fate if he ever had a chance of seeing you again.

“Fuck! Tomatoes.”

You groaned and threw your head back in annoyance. It was on your list, sitting on the next line down under cheese and then you remembered why you forgot it in such a fluster. You slammed the boot door of your car back down, locked it shut and headed back inside to grab the final item. Your feet moved quickly along the tile floor and you turned on your heel to find the stack of plump, rosy red tomatoes in front of you.

“Hello again.”

The familiar voice made the tiny baby hairs on your neck stand up and a row of goosebumps rise on your forearms in tow. His smile radiated warmth as it crinkled up in the corners of his eyes. He stood tall over you, still in his flight suit, but again you didn’t feel intimidated in the slightest. You felt a true sense of calm and safety wash over you.

Your lips parted to gasp with happy surprise at seeing him again, before they curled up into a relieved smile, mirroring his own.

“Hello again.” You repeated back to him. “I forgot tom—”

“I forgot some tom—”

You both spoke in unison, before snorting out a quiet laugh between yourselves.

“Apologies. You go.” Bob gestured towards you and the vegetable stand.

“I’m going to make a sauce when I get back home, but I completely forgot the main ingredient.” You waved it off with another giggle, yet still, you did not attempt to reach for said important ingredient. You simply stayed facing him with a gleaming smile.

Bob’s mouth watered at the sound of your homemade tomato sauce. His stomach still growled at him from inside, but he also felt how it twisted and turned on itself with exhilaration. He pictured coming home to you after work, sitting down together at your dining table and sharing the homemade sauce. You were, without a fault, the only person he had ever truly envisioned a future with and he couldn’t repeat the same mistake as before.

He nimbly chewed at his bottom lip, failing to notice how you were also doing the same, as he mentally prepared his next statement.

“That sounds, delicious. I hope I’m not oversteppin’ here, and please tell me if I am, but I’d love to have y’ number, Ma’am. I’d love to try some of y’ homemade sauce, if that’s okay with you?”

Bob was not an overly religious man, but he swallowed thickly and prayed with every hope that the last part of his sentence didn’t come across in the wrong way. It felt longer than mere seconds to receive your response, but he breathed out a short sigh of relief when he saw how your eyes crinkled up into an animated smile to match his.

“Yes, yes! I’d love that. Please, let me get my book…” Your fingers were trembling with giddy anticipation as you worked to open your bag and reached for your notebook. “Uh…” You flipped through to find a clean page and when you landed on one, you gestured it towards him. “Here you go.” You gushed.

“Thank you.” He began. “I’m Bob, by the way. Bob Floyd.”

You mentioned your name and he felt his heart flutter at how pretty it was. By how eagerly you had accepted his proposal to exchange numbers, he could see that you were just as into him, as he was with you. And so, he let his true feelings become known.

“That’s a real pretty name, sweetheart.”

You sucked in a harsh breath between your teeth and let out a bashful, “Oh…”

The sweet name that he had just called you, made your legs nearly twitch and tremble on the supermarket floor.

His long, slender fingers curled around the pen as he scribbled down his number. Your notebook and pen looked so small in his hands.

When he offered it back to you, you wrote down your number in a flurry and tore the piece of paper out from the binder. You handed it over and he tucked it into the top pocket of his flight suit. You thought that that was the hottest thing you have ever witnessed a man doing.

Bob Floyd, as you now knew him, had seriously gotten into your head and clouded any reasonable senses.

You both exchanged some further light conversation, still with Bob shamelessly and sweetly flirting with you, before you both picked up your tomatoes, paid and left for the car park together. He insisted on walking you to the car to ensure that you got there safely, even though it was still broad daylight and when he left, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

You both went back to your separate homes and cooked your separate meals. As you were about to get into bed you sent Bob a text, the taste of your homemade sauce still dancing on your taste buds.

“this weekend, would you like me to show you how i make the sauce? would you like to come to mine? x”

You were caught by surprise when your phone dinged with a message notification moments after.

“I would love that, thank you for the invite, sweetheart. Can’t wait :-) x”

Bob lay in bed that night thinking about how to tell the story of how you both met at your wedding.

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tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @floydsglasses @fridamoss @floydsmuse @bobfloydsbabe @laracrofted @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @auroralightsthesky @cherrycola27 @withahappyrefrain @sugarcoated-lame @senawashere

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wosoragebaiter69 · 9 months

Text

that’s enough

barça femeni x teen!reader, alexia putellas x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: this is a mess. the plot is like when ur writing an english essay and you let your subconscious mind write it so it ends up splitting into three topics with no context.

TW: throwing up, coarse language

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Last night, I went out again. It isn’t unusual for me and if I get caught it gets me in trouble with Alexia. I’m not even doing anything bad most of the time, just driving around to take the pressure away. What I don’t factor in this time is the fact that we have an early morning session and a late night session. So if hell was a day, this is it.

First, we have a video session discussing tactics. Which is at 7am, then at 6pm we have a field session. Of course when I wasn’t there when Alexia woke up she immediately called me.

“Where are you? Where’s your car and why aren’t you in the house?” She questions clearly annoyed.

“Relax Alexia, I went out on a little drive, I’ll be there for the video session don’t worry.” She’s about to say more but I hang up. I know I won’t hear the end of this but there can’t be too much harm.

Turns out there can be.

I walk inside the room with my mcdonald’s coffee, I’m not the last person there but Alexia is in the room and shoots daggers at me. I shrug my shoulders, moving to sit next to Ingrid.

“Alexia is really mad, what did you do this time?” She asks, looking at me with a slight smirk.

“I went for a drive to clear my mind. I guess it’s illegal to do that now. I got a coffee though.” She wrinkles her face in disgust.

“Out of all the places to get coffee, you choose the worst one? Honestly kid, please find some place better. Staring at that makes me physically sick.” I roll my eyes.

“I was in a hurry and they call it fast food for a reason. Imagine if I was late? I’m already in trouble.” She nods her head in understanding.

“So, any plans for today or are you going to play Hogwarts Legacy all day.”

“I’m going to watch a movie.” I reply.

“The whole day?” She questions confused.

“Well�� I never said I was seeing the movie IN Spain.” She sighs pinching the bridge between her nose.

“That’s not a good idea. Why would you do that?”

“Because I hate subtitles and I don’t want the movie to be in Spanish.” I shrug.

“That’s… a good point. If Alexia finds out you’ve left the country again she’s gonna lose it so have fun and make sure not to tell her you told me.” I nod.

“Will do my friend.” I’ve left the country before, one time to Germany where I accidentally met Georgia Stanway and got drunk with her. And the other time was at the UK in which I got into some nasty fights against some sad Arsenal fans. Like yes I was taunting them but no reason to attack me. I won in the end, obviously.

So if Alexia finds out I’ve left again she will be so mad. I focus my attention to the screen in front of us and listen in on what whatever Jona has to say.

- - - - -

After the session, I quickly make my way out of the room and into my car. I’m almost gone but Alexia is right behind me and she bangs on the window. I groan pulling it down.

“Hi Aleeee.”

“Don’t you ‘Hi Ale.’ me. Where have you been and how long? Do not lie to me.” I sigh.

“I went out on a drive around town, it’s so pretty at night, so excuse me if I want to look at it. Now if you must know. I’m on a tight schedule so, may you please move so I can move?” I ask, she reluctantly agrees and steps back allowing me to drive off to the airport.

(this is rlly fast paced but you can imagine whatever movie you want during the time skip)

- - - - -

It’s currently 5pm, I’ve been out all day the flights were only 2 hours and they were cheap. I don’t know why the others think of this stuff. Maybe I’m just Australian though.

I notice my stomach feels off, but it’s probably because I’m dehydrated and haven’t eaten a proper meal all day. Only a large popcorn and 2 packets of skittles.

I arrive at the grounds just in time and walk in with Sandra. I walk over to my area and get changed into the kit, before walking out onto the field with Lucy.

“You alright mate? You’re pale.” She states.

“I’m good, little tired is all.” I can tell she doesn’t believe me but we walk on.

The session is gruelling, high intensity and does not do anything to help what I’m feeling. Alexia has been pushing me harder than anyone else which is annoying and I low-key want to fall to the ground. That would only result in more laps though.

The 1.5 hour session ends, we have dinner which lasts half an hour than another 45 minutes in the gym. Both of which I am not excited for.

I can’t even think of anything when it happens, I feel bile rise up my throat and I just know that I should’ve eaten a proper meal. I make it into the bathroom in the nick of time, spilling my guts into the bowl. Someone is in here holding my tied back hair but I can’t be bothered to find who.

When I finally stop gagging, I flush the toilet and lean against the wall staring in front of me to find Keira.

“You feel any better or do you want to stay here.” She asks, resting her hand on my cheek. I shrug my shoulders as she sighs.

The door opens again and it’s Lucy.

“Oh, there you guys are. What happened?” Lucy turns to Keira.

“I was walking by the bathrooms and heard someone gagging and here she was throwing up.” She nods her head and I go to stand up.

“NO! No, you are not doing that. What if you throw up again? I’m going to get Alexia. Right now.” Lucy says sternly.

“Nooo, get Ingrid instead? Please Lucy.”

“Fine.” She walks out leaving Keira and I alone again.

“Mind telling me what lead to this moment?” I nod, explaining the staying up all night to not eating any proper food.

“That’ll do it. Can’t believe you just got on a flight to London.”

“It’s not even that long, it’s a great way to spend time. It’s like you saying a 45 minute drive is long. That’s how long it takes for me to get to school when I’m in Australia.” She shakes her head.

“Aussies sense of time is so out of whack I’m telling ya!” The door is opened again as Ingrid and Lucy make their way inside.

Ingrid sighs, “What are we going to do with you huh?” I laugh.

“Come on, let’s get you to the medics and then you can go home. I’ll drive your car and before you say anything we will be telling Alexia.” I nod, knowing there’s no escape.

We get to the medical room and Alexia is already there, talking about her knee with one of the physios. She looks over in question, Ingrid pushes me forward while Keira explains everything to the doctor. Who explains for me to eat a proper meal and drink some actual water. Before going to bed to get actual sleep.

Alexia is fuming, muttering many curse words and dragging me out of there. We get our stuff and give my keys to Mapi who nods at the plan of getting my car back home.

- - - - -

We walk through the door and Alexia guides me to the couch.

“I have had enough of this. We need to set some rules ok? You are 16 in a foreign country, you can’t go around to other countries when you fucking feel like it. I don’t care if you didn’t do anything bad but I can’t have you out of this city without me. Got it? As for the night driving, we’ll set a curfew and I expect you to be back by a certain time and you won’t be able to leave until a certain time. I told your parents I’d watch out for you but you are seriously making it hard for me to live up to that.”

“Sorry Ale.” She shakes her head.

“I’m not doing this with you right now. I’m going to make you a proper meal, you will drink 1 litre of water then you are heading straight to bed. No phone, no xbox, nothing until I deem you can be trusted. Am I clear?” I nod, feeling like I was 12 again.

“You might think this is excessive but I care about you. I want you to be safe, I need you to be safe. So please, make it easier for both of us.” Shes pleading now and it makes me feel bad, tears brim at the edge of my eyes and she sits down next to me.

“Amorcita, don’t cry. Por favor.” She rubs my thigh.

“I’m sorry Ale, I didn’t mean to. The night drives just lessen my anxiety about some things, you know. Like therapy.”

“I know, but you can speak to me about it any time if you feel you’re spiraling. Anyone on the team. Don’t do stupid things to get us to notice. Just talk I’m always here.” I sob into her arms, I can feel all the anger she has fade.

“Thanks, this means so much. Again I’m sorry.” She shakes her head.

“Don’t be, but I would like to know why you travelled to England to watch a movie, don’t you hate England?” This has me laughing.

“I mean… I do but in Spain it’s either gonna be in Spanish or have subtitles and I wanted it in English without.” She laughs softly.

“Of course, now how do you feel about Chicken Burgers for dinner? With potato gems.” I nod my head. She gets up and walks into the Kitchen starting to make the food.

Maybe I can start trying, and maybe I am truly cared about more than I thought. This team 🫶.

A/N: I LOVE SICKFICS I HAD TO. if you see any sickfic requested, i probs requested it lol

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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harrysblues · 2 years

Text

Clean Baby

The one in which Harry comes back from work, and the only thing he wants to do is have a shower with his newborn.

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After spending so much time working on his upcoming album Harry's House, the only thing Harry wants to do is get home to cuddle with his wife and his newborn. Y/N had given birth three months ago to a precious baby girl, Kennedy Gem, that Harry completely adores. He still doesn't believe how much he loves the little thing.

All he had wished to do since his sunshine had been born was to stay home with his family. Unfortunately, Kenny came three weeks early, and all Harry could do was rush through the last couple of things he had yet to arrange for his album release next month.

Even though he had been touring in America, Y/N's pregnancy had been kept a secret to the public. This means that not many people know what Harry has waiting for him at home, and how much he hates being away from home lately. The couple knows that they are going to need to start telling people soon, due to Harry going on tour to the UK and Europe during the summer, and Y/N and Kenny are going with him. However, they want to enjoy the most out of her without being bothered about how things are going, or people wanting to get their hands on pictures of their baby.

Harry got out of a meeting with Jeff and rushed home to be with both of his girls that he absolutely adores with his whole entire heart. They are literally the center of his universe, and the purpose that pushes him to be the best version of him everyday.

"Oh my baby, weren't you so hungry?" He heard Y/N coo right after he enters through the door. "You're the cutest thing I've seen in my entire life".

Harry is fast to lock the door and get to his family in the living room, and when he sees both of his girls on the sofa, wrapped in blankets because it is still chilly out, and Y/N breastfeeding Kenny while looking at her lovingly, he knows he made it. He has been dreaming about this his whole life.

"Hello my angels" He says while quickly sitting down in the sofa right by their side. "How has your day been? I hope fantastic. I've missed you both so so much".

He gives Y/N a passionate kiss, and they separate when they hear their baby make the cutest noise ever. "Yeah, sunshine. Do you also want a kiss?" Harry coos, and immediately kisses his baby's forehead. He is mesmerised with the way she's bonding with her mum right now.

"She's almost done, but she needs a bath. Your mum called and I got distracted" Y/N informs Harry. "She invited us to go to her house this weekend for a family get together. Gemma is also going".

"I'll call her tomorrow to let her know we are going" Harry answers. "But can I please be in charge of bath time tonight? I've missed my little ray of sunshine so much today, you have no idea".

"Oh, is that so? What about your wife?" Y/N says in a playful manner. "Did you forget about your wife when your daughter was born, or what?"

"Of course not, my love. We are soulmates, and I'm yours forever and ever" He says while burying his face on her neck. "You're the muse of all my songs, and the best thing to ever happen in my entire life".

Y/N looks at him, sees the way he is literally drooling over his daughter, and decides to agree to Harry being in charge of bath time. "Okay, I'll let you. However, you have to promise me that this won't be a recurring thing. Kenny is already so attached to you, if she starts getting used to showering with you she won't have it any other way ever again".

"Perfect, perfect, perfect" Harry celebrates. "C'mon Kenny baby, let's go get ourselves clean. Do you want to be a clean baby? Yes?" Harry takes his daughter from her mum's arms and burps her before cradling her in his arms and standing up to get to the bathroom.

"I'll be back in a bit, my love" He tells his wife. "Rest for a bit, put on your favourite show, but please don't worry about anything. You have been working so hard these last couple of months without me here, it's your turn to relax".

Y/N knows that Harry is doing the best he can to balance everything that's going on in his life right now. Nonetheless, her heart melts a little at how sweet he is being about everything. He is all she's ever asked for.

The couple shares a sweet kiss, and Y/N watches Harry and her daughter leave the room to go have a bath, so she doesn't hesitate to take up Harry's offer, and put on her favourite show.

Harry walks with Kenny in his arms to the bathroom, where he starts the shower, so that the water warms up to the perfect temperature for his baby girl, and he prepares the towels for when they get out. Then, he carefully undresses Kenny, as well as himself down to his boxers, and they both get in the shower.

Harry has his back to the shower stream, careful so it doesn't bother his little angel, while he holds her close to his chest. He did this for her first bath, because he was very scared of anything happening to her while in the water and he knew she was the safest in her daddy's arms. Ever since then, he does this as much as his wife lets him. He bonds with Kenny the best during bath times like this one, and he is determined to do this as long as his daughter lets him.

Once they are both completely wet, Harry takes a soft cloth, and with a little drop of baby soap, he starts washing his baby. She is sleepy in her father's chest, seeing as she loves listening to his heartbeat whenever she lays there. So when she notices her sleep being disrupted, she starts whimpering.

"Oh no, sunshine. Don't cry" He says softly to her. "It's just daddy cleaning you up, isn't that right? Didn't you want to be a clean baby?" Kenny stops the moment she hears her fathers voice, and looks up to him with the cutest smile ever.

"Hello, Kenny baby" He coos down at her. "It's bath time with daddy! We love bath time with daddy!" Harry exclaims while bouncing her a little and tickling her stomach. She lets out the most beautiful giggle Harry has ever heard, and he is completely sure he'll never get tired of it.

"How has your day been? Did you have fun with mummy?" He asks her softly while cleaning her body and shampooing the little curls she has started growing. "I'm very jealous that you get to spend so much time with her, especially cuddling. I love cuddles, you know that?" Kenny sees her father talking, and decides to start mumbling and making noises, as if she was answering all of his questions. Harry doesn't doubt it for a second, and he immediately starts talking to her as if she knew what he was saying.

"You love mummy's milk? Is that what you are saying?" The smile could be heard in his voice, as he was looking down at his precious daughter. Kenny squeals and slaps her little hands softly on her daddy's chest, making him chuckle. "We are so grateful for what she is doing for us, isn't that right? She is the most wonderful woman ever, and you are so lucky that you get to learn form her. You are going to be just like her".

The conversation carries on, Harry not once getting bored with the cute interaction, and he finishes giving her a bath and also, washing his body and hair. He would lie and tell Y/N that washing himself with only one arm wasn't difficult, but he would do it every day for his baby girl. It was very difficult for him to explain the bond he had with his daughter during these showers. The idea of her being completely dependent on him was something he thought about every single day. And he obviously loved every single minute of it.

Once both of them are clean, they get out of the shower and Harry carefully wraps Kenny in a very fluffy baby towel with a hood and bear ears on top. It was a gift from Mitch and Sarah for when she was born, and it is the cutest thing ever. Harry can't help but take pictures of her and send them to the love band's group chat every single time she uses it.

He creadles her in his arms again and wraps another towel around his waist. He obviously struggles, and he notices Kenny is watching him in the mirror when she lets out a very loud laugh, seeing her daddy drop his towel many times until he manages to wrap it in place.

"Oh my, Kenny baby! Are you laughing at y'daddy?" He jokingly reprimands her. "Does daddy make you laugh? Yeah?" He only gets more belly laughs from her, and he smiles so big, both of his dimples very prominent on his face, that he swears his cheeks are going to fall off. He is even trying to make her laugh harder, making weird faces at her while they both look at each other through the mirror.

When Kenny starts shivering a little, Harry knows it's time to get her dressed in a very cute pijama and put her to sleep. She was about to fall asleep on his chest after all, so he carries her to her bedroom and dresses her in his favourite pijamas of hers, decorated with little cherries, right after putting lotion on her with a very long massage. He loved pampering his girls, and he wasn't embarrassed to show it.

When she has her hair brushed, and she is ready for bed, with her pacifier on her mouth, Harry brings her to his bedroom so he can get ready.

"I know you're sleepy, sunshine. Let me get dressed and we'll go say goodnight to mummy, alright?" He tells her, while laying her in the middle of his king sized bed. He surrounds her with pillows so she won't roll and fall, although she is too tired to even move.

Harry goes inside his wardrobe to get into his pijamas really quick, and he looks at her playing with her hands at the top of her head while he is in his bathroom, doing his skincare and styling his hair.

"Let's go, angel" He kisses Kenny on the forehead, while picking her up and laying her against his chest. "We have to wish mummy a very good night, isn't that right?" Kenny softly coos, and Harry melts at the sound of her little voice. He can't wait for when she's able to tell him how she feels, or what she thinks.

When they get to the living room, Y/N is asleep on the couch. Harry quickly notices, and without wanting to wake her up, he gets down on his knees right next to her to give her a kiss on the forehead. "C'mon Kenny, give mummy a kissy so we can go to sleep" He whispers.

Right when he is about to get up from the floor to put Kenny to sleep, Y/N stirs awake. "Harry, cuddles please" His wife's demand earns a chuckle from Harry, but he doesn't think twice. He hands Kenny to Y/N, and he gets on the couch besides her to cuddle with the love of his life and his baby.

With the TV playing softly, the warmth of the blankets the three of them are wrapped up in, the feeling of his wife breathing, and the peaceful noises coming from his baby, Harry is in heaven. This is the best life he could have ever wished for, and he could never be happier.

First post! Please let me know if you like it and want more! Alsooo, don't forget to reblog :)

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maybe-moonchild · 29 days

Text

11/25/2018

WC: 1.5k

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

“So did you return it or not?” Katie sighed from where she was lounging on the couch, flipping to the next page of her magazine with an air of indifference. Her dark hair fell perfectly around her shoulders in a blowout that only a salon could achieve.

“Nope.”

Katie sounded flatly disappointed, “Oh great, so now you have a pair of ugly pants.” You picked your head up from where it was shoved into the cushions so you could glare at her.

Flash made a face, still not quite understanding the problem. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, back up. If the pants are ugly, why are you keeping them?”

“Because,” you groaned, flopping over onto your back. You narrowly avoided crushing Katie’s magazine before she plucked it out of the way. “Like I said, they were parked right outside the mailbox and I was going to be late if I didn’t leave at that exact moment.”

Flash’s brows furrowed even more and he was quiet for a beat as he tried to figure out what the issue was.

He’d been paying attention to the story you’d been relaying once you arrived; he just lacked the overwhelming perception that your other friend managed to have. If Katie could always seek and find lines to read between when they were invisible to the human eye, Flash could barely read.

Well, it just took him a little longer with a little help.

The two of them were your people, making up the other two wheels on your tricycle. The three of you complimented each other in all the right ways, thorny where the others were soft and sweet where the others were sour.

Which was why it was no surprise that you and Katie found yourselves hosting a wine night at the apartment you shared prior to Flash’s return to South Dakota.

“Like they were blocking the mailbox?”

At his continued confusion, Katie snapped her magazine shut, sitting up straight so she could deter the attention to herself. It wasn’t in the vain way that she liked to pretend it was. Instead, she did it to give you a moment to take a breath or you’d start to get snappy.

You always got snappy when this topic came up.

“No Flash.” Even though she was speaking to him, it was obvious that it was directed at you. “Gwen’s car was parked right next to the mailboxes which meant she would’ve had to walk right in front of it to put said package in the mailbox.”

A handful of popcorn hit you in the face when you opened your mouth to interject. Kernels fell down into your shirt, distracting you so you could fish them out while she continued.

“Which is why she has opted to throw money in the garbage for a pair of pants that look like they were cut out of a gap catalog.” Her head turned in your direction, delivering you a smug smile which you returned with a glare. “Because for someone who claims not to care about Peter Parker, you certainly do plenty of backflips to avoid him.”

You chucked a pillow at her but she ducked out of the way.

“Oh, this again?” Flash sighed, propping his cheek in his hand in boredom of the topic. “I thought maybe something actually happened.”

That makes you do a double take at him, his hands and eyebrows raising in surrender.

“Something did happen. Peter and Gwen were sitting in her car on my street.”

How you’d peeked out your window prior to heading to the mailbox, only to find Gwen Stacy’s car parked right outside the Parker residence with Peter sitting in the front seat. You only watched for a few moments in the hope that they would leave but- why was he laughing so much? Nothing could seriously be funny enough that he had to keep throwing his head back with his stupid, lopsided smile-

They did not leave. In fact, they seemed more than content to chat and laugh and joke. Gwen wouldn’t even still be in town if the stupid storm plaguing the skies of the UK hadn’t delayed her flight an extra few days over Thanksgiving Break.

It wasn’t like you actually had anything against her; quite the opposite actually, considering she was one of the most lovely people to walk the planet.

Which just made you feel guilty at the odd, prickling resentment that prickled along your skin anytime you thought about her.

So you decided that, instead of going out, crossing the street and walking right in front of their windshield to toss your package in the mailbox, you decided to keep the ugly pants.

Neither of them said anything, making you question your own sanity.

“So I couldn't put the package in the mailbox. So, yes, something certainly did happen.”

Your brows pinched together, like you were offended at the idea that it was nothing- was he not just listening? Did he not just hear about how Peter and Gwen had been flaunting themselves (inside the privacy of her car without the knowledge that you were home) like they owned the stupid spot on the road right in front of his house…

Okay so… maybe there was a hint of truth to what your friends were saying.

“It did!” You stand up abruptly to pad into the kitchen, just so you can hide the way your face screws up at the implication. Absent-mindedly searching through the cabinets for snacks gives you the time to pout without being teased.

“So? It’s winter break. They were probably just hanging out while she’s back in town before she goes back to Oxford.” With another sigh, Katie flopped back on the couch. Her tone is light in the hopes to distract you from the topic and move on to things like where the three of you should go for your last spring break or how Ned Leeds offered to carry her books around campus, again.

Flash shut his laptop and slid it away, tucking it safely in the middle of the floor where it would likely be drunkenly stepped on. This was clearly going to acquire everyone’s full attention.

As you padded back to the living room shared by you and Katie, bottle of wine in hand, you were ready to drown in your non-existent sorrows.

“Or they were probably banging one out…” Flash snorts. That’s enough to send the remaining heads in the room whipping in his direction.

“Flash!” Katie scolded sharply and he threw his hands up in response. It’s your voice, equally loud and sharp, that makes both of your friends wince with how appalled you sound.

“Banging?”

The wide eyed look you wore made you appear like a child discovering that Santa wasn’t real.

Katie shot Flash a dirty look before running a hand down her face which made him cringe, shooting you an apologetic look for his bluntness. She attempted to console you with a stiff pat on your shoulder.

“No. Not banging.” She was trying to shut that idea down before you spiraled down a rabbit hole. Still, not even she could help but cringing herself. “... Probably not.”

“That hardly sounds reassuring!” You slumped down onto the couch, trying to sink into the cushions with a pout.

Flash and Katie exchanged another look, expressions flat and emitting a sigh that screamed ‘here we go again’.

It’s Katie that tried to comfort you first, even if this conversation had happened a million times before and always ended the same way.

“Here’s a thought,” she said tentatively, scooting a little closer to where you were the personification of grumbling in the corner of the couch. “Why do you care so much?”

You scowled, “I don’t.”

Flash just let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah right! Every Time you see that Gwen's liked one of his aunts' facebook posts, it ruins your whole week- OW!” He rubbed at the spot on his shin that Katie had kicked in an attempt to get him to shut up.

“What he means,” she interjected, drawing out the words in an attempt to draw your attention back to her, “is that you do tend to… get grumpy… when Parker comes up-”

The implication made your jaw hang open almost comically.

“I do not!”

“Do too,” your friends deadpanned at the same time.

Clearly this had become somewhat of a routine to them since they did not pay your pouting any mind. Katie smoothed her shirt and stood, picking up the sparkling five-buck-chuck and inspecting the label like one would inspect a thousand dollar bottle of hundred year old champagne.

“Face it babe,” She sighed, passing the bottle to Flash, who made quick work at peeling off the foil to uncork it, still sprawled out on the carpet. “Peter Parker might have been out of your life the past seven years, but he has never left your head.”

“That’s not true,” you grumble, but the sound is covered by the pop of the cork and a cheer from your friends. Their attempt to move the conversation along to something more upbeat works, shifting the atmosphere to something lighter as Katie fills three wine glasses.

It’s like you hadn’t even denied it all.

#peter parker tasm #marvel #peter parker tasm x reader #the amazing spider man #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm #tasm!peter x you

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decepti-thots · 6 months

Text

I didn't post yesterday on Trans Day of Visibility. I rarely post on TDoV these days, because I find it overwhelming as a very 'visible' trans person, often performative, frequently noisily obnoxious, and as someone who used to specifically involve myself in British trans politics extensively, it became pretty unbearable for me after a few years with how awful it is on socmedia. So I'm a little late with this post.

This year however, my country recently declared that the NHS should stop prescribing puberty blockers to trans youth. Anecdotally, some trans adults have been contacted by their GPs following this saying they are no longer willing to prescribe them HRT; as someone who has also been taken off HRT by local GPs randomly (because GPs are not obligated to give you hormones even after Gender Identity Clinic recommendation, but can decide if they want to do based on... nothing, basically) this is uhhh. Well, both believable and a minor escalation of the preexisting status quo basically, hah. It's just like that here if you can't afford continuous private care. This is just a formal escalation of what it's been like over here for years now. Being trans here sucks, noone is surprised to hear.

Given this, here is what I said on Twitter last year on TDOV, which I still stand by:

If you're someone who enjoys my blog, and perhaps it's not something you usually do: please consider looking up if there's a local group near to you that supports trans people and donating to it, or signal boosting it, or whatever. Not the big nationally recognised group everyone always rushes to donate to when Bad News TM occurs; is there some unrecognized local group noone thinks about? Is there a struggling group near you offering basic services, drop in clinics, etc? There might be. They're usually both lifelines for many trans people and underfunded next to 'splashier' charities, in my experience.

I'm trans in a part of my country noone cares about. Nobody who doesn't live here donates to our local queer groups, even as those of us living here are dependent on their massively underfunded assistance constantly; disproportionately, since we're overwhelmingly poor and lack access to the resources of richer parts of the UK, where things are not good but at least have better optics sometimes. Wherever you are, whatever things are like where you are, if there's some local group you could offer time or money to that supports trans people, please consider donating it to them. Five bucks to a local org or mutual aid fund barely getting by on very little attention is often more impactful than defaulting to looking up big well-known organizations.

Anyway that's my post about that done for the year. Get involved in your local community and you'll find trans people to help, and to love. <3

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kellyvela · 12 days

Note

This is getting a little bit too parasocial now...... I mean, not you, that anon. What Sophie and her ex husband agreed on is literally none of our business and i'm pretty sure she would be mortified reading that ask. At the end of the day, they are both celebrities with careers that involve spending time in other countries. The children being home schooled is not the worst thing in the world. Sophie herself is not going to only be able to work in the UK, and if the girls happen to be with her during the time she is shooting something, they would not be able to attend a school in London anyway. Just look at how long the shoot for Haven is, or how long Joan took, if she shot it anywhere outside London it would be the same situation like when her ex is on tour. Like i'm sorry, but for the girls to be able to attend a normal school fulltime the parents would have to sacrifice in their career (she would have to only be in uk productions, he would need to not tour or not to have the kids with him while touring) and this would also require him to move to the UK full time so the girls don't switch between the countries all the time (which also makes going to a normal school impossible). So homeschooling looks like the best compromise... But i digress. This was their decision and they made it however they saw best. I'm sure Sophie would rather we start talking about something else, like Haven is finishing soon and i'm very curious to find out if she films The Dreadful next or Cloud One 👀 And if she will go see Kit's play!!! John Bradley went 👀 👀 Also because of her new LV campaign i'm 99% sure she will attend the fashion show on October 1 so at least we will see her beautiful face again ❤️

UK was the permanent residence during the temporary custody agreement that expired on January:

Willa was attending a nursery in London during late February 2024, that is to say, after the temporary custody agreement expired on January:

On September 2024, the parents reached a permanent custody agreement, which is confidential, and were declared divorced and single again.

From these facts, it is most likely that they have confirmed the UK as the girls permanent residence, so they will be educated there, as was always Sophie's wish.

#anon asks #sophie turner #many parents travel for work all the time & kids normally attend their school every day regardless . . . .

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whatitsdecending · 1 year

Text

Chokehold: Pt. II

Vessel x Reader x Noah Sebastian

Finding yourself in a strange predicament between two men who had once shared your body at the same time. One with a tight grip on your heart and the other you just can’t seem to let go of.

A/N: thank you for the love on the first part! I decided to continue this an actual fic, rather than it just being a one shot. I will put this out here now:

I do not know anything about Vessel than what everyone else knows, all of this is fictional and made up by me.

Word Count: 4.4k

Content warning: none, fluff for this part and some cutesy moments

—————————

Two months had gone by and it was now November. You were in the lull between tours, the time where you get to sit at home and get extremely bored. You loved being on tour since you did something every single day, even on the off days.

This time around though wasn’t all that boring. That time three months ago where Noah had introduced you to Vessel was really sticking around. Vessel had given you his number, asking you to call him whenever you could. And you did. You never missed the chance to do so, calling him the next day early in the afternoon once the buses had arrived at the next place Bad Omens was performing. It only rang three times before he answered, the croak of his voice being used after he’d been asleep peaked your interest.

From that day on, you two either texted all day until you were able to schedule a time to call. The schedule you were on compared to his was a little difficult to find time where the both of you could sit down and chat.

Getting off tour made that so much easier for you. He’d call you up almost everyday around 2pm your time, even if he was in the UK he didn’t care how late it was for him in comparison. Every call you will talk until he falls asleep, which usually ends up being around 7pm for you. You’d hear the soft snores coming from his end of the line, signaling to you he was asleep.

“Goodnight Ves, sweet dreams.” You always say before hanging up. A small smile remained on your face as you began your nightly routine, something which you’ve caught yourself doing every time.

For hours you’d talk about anything and everything, it felt much different than the long talks you and Noah would have. Usually those talks with him would end in a hookup, but nothing else. You knew what you and Noah did was just casual, no strings attached. But sometimes you wished he’d just sit and listen to you talk for hours on end, let you rant about the crew who are pissing you off on that day or about the book you’d just finished reading.

But Vessel does. And you know he’s listening to you because he’ll ask you a follow up question on something you mentioned minutes ago. You longed to be able to see him again, to have these conversations over dinner instead of the phone. Whatever piece of him he left in you on that day remained and wouldn’t allow you to let go of the idea of him.

Which is why when your phone began to ring promptly at 2pm, your heart swelled at least twice its size. You hit the green answer button on the screen, then hit the speaker button.

“Hello darling.” His voice echoed into the room from the speakers.

“Hi Ves, how are things?” You asked, turning your focus on the pile of dirty laundry in your basket.

“Oh you know, same old same old. It’s getting quite boring doing the same thing everyday.” He sighs. “I wish I could just bounce around on stage right now and kiss my bandmates.” The laugh that erupted from you was loud and hearty, earning a chuckle from Vessel. “Maybe even kissing you.”

“Oh well now you’re just out of your mind.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s impractical right now, the idea of you kissing me.” He was silent for a moment, clearly thinking of what to say.

“I don’t think so. It could certainly happen sooner than you’d think.” Now you stood in silence wondering exactly what he meant by that. A notification popped up on your phone, a text from him. You clicked it and gasped at what it was: a plane ticket to London.

“Ves.. what is this?” The shock ran through your body to the point your hands began to shake.

“I did some research and realized there’s a good amount of time between when I go back on tour and Bad Omens does. I bought you a plane ticket to come and stay with me for a while before then.” There was a tone of hope in his voice, you could tell he really wanted you to be there with him. “Y/N I really do miss you, even if we’d only seen each other once in person. Talking to you everyday has only exaggerated that feeling.”

You didn’t know what to say. Well, actually more like you didn’t know how to express what you wanted to say. Your thoughts ran millions of miles per second through your mind. What exactly did he want if you went? Would it just be absentminded fucking like you already did with Noah? Or would it be something more? Soaking up each other’s presence, completing activities the other picks out for fun. Would it actually feel like something was there rather than nothing at all?

“Yes.” After all the thought you’d put into a reply, a simple yes is all that could come up with.

“Yes?”

“Yes Ves. I would love to spend time with you before going on tour again. I think we both really need it.” There it is, slowly coming out of you the more the conversation moves along.

“I’m glad you’re on board. That makes my life a little easier now.” You could tell he was smiling on the other side, just from the cheekiness of his response. “Also I apologize for the late notice, you should probably get packing now and find your passport.” You quickly found the plane ticket again and realized the departure was for tomorrow.

“Oh you dick!” You exclaimed, running over to the closet that stored your two suitcases. Vessel laughed over the phone at the sound of your struggle, clearly enjoying the stress he just put you in.

“I’ll hang up so you can get to packing. Just make sure you text me when the plane is about to take off and I’ll figure out the best time to get you. I’ll see you tomorrow darling.” With that he hung up. You stared at the two empty suitcases in front of you, the bigger one that you only brought along for a tour. You decided it’d be smart to just pack it like you were leaving for tour, then the other one being everything else you wanted to bring.

At the point in which one suitcase was completely full, you had a moment of realization: why the hell did you just agree to go across the sea to a country you’re still very unfamiliar with, and stay with a man whom you’ve talked with on the phone way more than in person. Plus, the time you spoke in person was so minimal because he fucked your brains out.

It certainly was not your brain making the decisions today.

As you sat here staring at the suitcase, it truly put so much in perspective for you. Vessel clearly meant something more to you than you’d thought. He’s had enough of an impact on you in these past two months than anyone you’ve ever met. The universe really works in strange ways and you wonder if Noah’s little fantasy was actually just some sort of strange fate for you.

Or you were going crazy.

—————————

You stood in line at TSA in the airport, watching each person take their personal items and put them into the buckets. It was painful how long you’d been in line and each new person that goes through the process makes you wish it was you. Traveling wasn’t exactly your most favorite thing in the world, but with your job you had to do it, so at this point you just grew numb to the entire experience.

After another fifteen minutes you were finally making your way to the gate. You had enough time to get there so you didn’t rush, but the anticipation of knowing you’re one step closer to seeing Vessel made your legs move in a hurry. The gate already had a lot of people waiting, seeming like it’d be a full flight. How lovely, you thought, I see babies.

Like every flight you’ve ever been on, the boarding process was always the worst. You’d wish you could shove past everyone taking their sweet time putting their carry ons in the bins and just get to your seat, but you decided being kind and helping a few people out would make the experience more pleasant.

As you watched out your window seat while the plane taxied on the runway, you reached for your phone to shoot a text to Vessel:

Hey, the plane is about to take off. See you soon xo:)

You switched your phone into airplane mode as the plane began to shoot down the runway. The friendly feeling of your stomach dropping when the plane lifted into the air put a smile on your face. You were really doing this, some people would run away from an opportunity like this but you decided you had to run right to it with open arms. The flight might be a long one, but in the end, it’ll be worth every second.

—————————

“The time is currently 8:43 pm GMT, the temperature outside is 46° Fahrenheit. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to London.” The pilot said on the overhead speakers when the plane landed, a sigh of relief leaving your body. Landing was always the rough part for you, you’ve seen too many documentaries.

Your phone came buzzing back to life the moment you turned airplane mode off, texts from multiple people popped up and lots of work emails flooding your notifications. You glanced at some of the messages, mostly just your parents asking if you’d landed yet and sending you cute messages. Vessel had sent you a heart in reply to what you sent him before take off, which you immediately sent him a text letting him know you landed.

Then the name you hadn’t seen in a while was there… Noah had tried calling you but resorted to sending texts.

N: Hey, you okay? I’m being sent straight to voicemail each time I call you.

N: Y/N you’ve got me a little worried, you good?

N: If I did something please let me know I don’t mean to seem like an asshole.

You sighed at the messages. Out of all days, he decides to talk to you today. The one time you weren’t going to be able to use your phone for a long time and were actually happy about it. You quickly shot him a text back just as the plane was being parked at the gate.

YOU: Hey I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I was DND for a while and needed some time away from my phone.

N: Shit dude you gave me a heart attack, everything good?

YOU: Yeah! I needed one of those technology detoxes today, you know?

N: I understand that completely. Whenever you get the chance will you give me a call? I miss talking to you.

YOU: Of course, but I gotta get back to my detox. Call you later xo

You stuffed your phone into your pocket deciding to ignore the rest of whatever he wanted to say. Your mind focused on what you were here for, getting to Vessel as quickly as you could. You became extremely grateful the people in this airport knew how to walk fast and weren’t stuck behind any slowpokes. The impatience you had was becoming worse the closer you got to the baggage claim, you think if these people were moving slow you’d mow them down like a damn eighteen-wheeler.

The escalators that lead down to the baggage claim came into view and as you stepped onto one of the steps, you searched the room below to see if you could spot Vessel. About midway down, you noticed him standing further back in all black, he held a small sign that said your name on it and a bouquet of flowers. The smallest gesture he could’ve ever made yet it made your heart flip-flop.

Your feet made contact with the ground and you were running to him. He opened his arms wide for you, letting you leap up and hug him tightly. The familiar warmth and his scent that you’d picked up on that day two months ago was still there, putting a wide smile on your face.

“These are for you.” He put the bouquet in your hand after you’d placed yourself back onto the ground. He had a shyer demeanor about him this time around, it seemed like he was nervous you’d actually come to London to see him. Whatever the case may be, you thought it was sweet. The Vessel you’d met was very different from the one standing in front of you. Despite the different circumstances, you actually preferred this version of him.

“Have you been waiting long?” You asked when you headed to the baggage claim that was only a hundred or so feet from the escalators.

“Maybe an hour or so?” He said with a questioning tone. “I can’t quite remember, I just sat in my car for a while until you texted me that you had landed.” His hand rested at the small of your back under the backpack you’d brought as a carry on, guiding you through the crowded area. “Which bags are yours?” You got to the carousel that was unloading the baggage from your flight and watched for your two suitcases.

“Oh, sick they’re coming out together.” You said and began to reach for them, but Vessel had already begun to lift them from the conveyor belt. “Oh you didn’t need to do that.”

He smiled down at you. “I don’t mind at all, plus you’ve had a long day. You gotta rest those arms of yours.” He started walking towards one of the doors that lead outside when he laughed. “I just realized that made no sense, I just needed some excuse to take your bags for you.” You laughed with him. It didn’t even register in your mind that his sentence made no sense, in fact the jet lag was already hitting you hard. At this point you just wanted to lay down and sleep for an entire day.

You step outside and the chill November air of London hits you like a ton of bricks. The air pierced through your sweater and left you to shiver. The idea to check how the weather would be here when you arrived completely slipped your mind while you packed yesterday, though it would be common sense it’d be cold here in November.

You shadowed behind Vessel, letting him lead the way to where he’d parked. It wasn’t too far of a walk from where the two of you had exited, you were just excited to have the heat blasting on you. Luckily you remembered not to go in the right side of the car this time around, you’d embarrassed yourself pretty bad the last time you visited the UK.

“It’s not too far of a drive to my house from here.” Vessel says as he puts one hand behind the headrest of your seat and begins to reverse out of the parking spot. You couldn’t help but watch his face as his brows furrowed a bit while he pulled from the spot, he bit at his lip with concentration. “I wanted to make you some dinner if you don’t mind. Unless you’re dying hungry then I will happily stop somewhere.” The mention of food took you back to reality, the reality where the last time you ate was at 5am your time.. with the time change you cannot remember how many hours ago that was.

“What do you have in mind for dinner?” You ask, eyes wandering out the window as all the streetlights lit up the road.

“Uhh..” He trails off for a moment, the smallest chuckle escaping from his mouth. Your head whips around to see him trying not to laugh, his hand covering his mouth as his chest heaves with every laugh he stifles. “Spaghetti.” You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, a chain reaction spreading between the two of you as he started laughing just as hard as you were. The car was full of your laughter and the snorts that you cannot help once you start laughing this hard.

You began to calm down, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face. “I have no idea if that truly was that funny or I’m just so jet lagged that everything is hilarious to me.” Vessel patted your thigh lightly as went back to focusing on driving rather than crashing from laughing so hard with you.

—————————

After twenty minutes you were pulling into a long driveway, covered by bushes that lead to a home surrounded by forest. You couldn’t see much in the dark but from what you could see, it was a beautiful older home with a lot of charm to it. There were some lights strung up around the outside, and a wreath that hung on the front door.

Vessel took your suitcases from the trunk and you followed him up the steps of the porch, letting him unlock the door and gesture for you to go in before him. The aroma of sweet cinnamon and pumpkin filled your senses, lamps were the only thing lighting up the rooms in the house but added to the calming atmosphere.

Your curiosity got the best of you the second you noticed the corner of the piano in the living room, drawing you in to see the beautiful instrument upclose. Your eyes grew wide when the floor to ceiling bookshelf came into view, expanding from one wall to the other filled to the brim with books. The piano left your mind as you moved to look at his collection, your fingers running over some of the hardcovers of books you’ve always wanted to read. As basic as you were with your favorite, you pulled The Giver by Lois Lowry out of its respective place. You admired the clear love that Vessel has given this book, some of the creases in the pages from him reading it over time and the breakage in the spine of the book.

You put the book back into the place it was originally and continued gawking at his collection. There was a stack of books on a table near the bookshelf that caught your attention, when you moved closer you realized all these books were ones you’d talked to him about over the phone. You felt that pull in your heart, the familiar tug you always felt whenever somebody remembers such small things.

“I knew you’d come in here.” His voice echoed from behind you, startling you out of your trance. “You like it?�� He stepped into the room with a smile plastered on his face. “You boasted about how much you loved those books, I couldn’t resist going to the bookstore the next day and buying all of them to read.”

“I’m going to be in heaven here. This collection is what I aspire to have one day.” Your eyes wandered over the bookshelves again, still trying to process the fact that this was an actual thing he had in his home. “It’s amazing, Ves.”

He smiled softly. “Thank you, I appreciate it. I set your things down in the guest room. If you want to get settled I’m going to get started on the spaghetti.” He trailed off to the kitchen, the sounds of pots clanging and cabinets opening and shutting filled the silence of his home. Your feet pulled you away from the room you’d grown to love, leading you to the stairs where you went to find the guest room.

There were paintings hung along the walls of the hallway, each one depicting a beautiful scene. You knew you’d spend some time staring at them and trying to understand the meaning behind it, but tonight your brain was too exhausted to even try.

A door was opened and light flooded the hallway from the room, you assumed that would be the guest room. Luckily you were right because your suitcases were left in the corner of the room and your backpack rested on the bed. It was a cozy room, not too heavily decorated but also not incredibly bland that it drove you nuts. Vessel clearly had a love for the Victorian style, many antiques littered his home and enhanced the coziness even more.

There was a bathroom connected to the room, a little more modernized than the bedroom itself but still had that same feel. It was lovely. Your hands smoothed over the large porcelain tub that sat in the corner of the bathroom, a window that overlooked the forest in front of it.

You began to unpack a bit and put your clothes away into the dresser, setting aside a pair of your pajamas to change into later on. The smell of red sauce flowed into the room and your stomach twisted into a knot. You were absolutely starving and the way the spaghetti was smelling you knew you’d be devouring it.

After a little more unpacking you decided to head back downstairs to see how close dinner was to being ready and if you could help in any way. As you stepped off the stairs the sound of Vessel’s voice caught your attention, he was singing along to the music he was listening to. His velvety voice was much quieter than you've heard it while he performed on stage, but it was rather beautiful this way.

You rounded a corner and walked into the kitchen, the sight of him putting together two plates of the spaghetti and singing was something that pulled at your heart again. “I was just about to call for you, dinner is served!” He exclaimed as he set a plate down at the table. “Do you want any cheese on yours?”

“No thank you.” A smile tugged at your lips as you sat down, waiting for him to come over with his plate and sit with you. “This smells so good, Ves.”

His eyes lit up as he smiled at your compliment. “Thanks, I tried my best to make it halfway decent.” He sat across from you and stared for a bit. “I’m waiting to see what you think..”

“Oh! Sorry.” You reached for the fork, twirling a bunch of spaghetti with it and placing the food into your mouth. It was delicious, probably some of the best spaghetti you’ve had in a long time. After finishing your bite you gave him a nod of approval. “That was amazing. Where did you learn to cook like that?”

He smirked as he chewed his food, twirling the fork in the pasta. “Cooking shows became one of my favorite things to watch during Covid, so I decided to get my shit together with my cooking and learn to do it properly. Now I actually enjoy it.”

“Do you bake as well or just cook?”

“I don’t bake, it seems like fun but I’ve never really had a reason to.”

You gasped in a dramatic fashion. “You’re telling me you don’t enjoy baking brownies at 2am for no reason at all?” He rolled his eyes at your little performance, a smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “We can have a 2am brownie baking party. Just not tonight because I feel like I’m about to fall over in exhaustion.”

“We’ll save it for another night.” He wiped his face with the napkin. “Did you find the room alright? I realized as you went upstairs that I didn’t tell you what room..”

You raised a brow, the same shyness from earlier was back. “Ves?” He glanced up at you and hummed a response. “Are you nervous that I’m here?” He hadn’t expected that question, so as the expression on his face went from shock to slight embarrassment, you could tell his brain was moving a million miles a second.

“Well… erm- to be honest I don’t have many guests over. Only my bandmates come to visit but they only ever stay for a day or two.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “This kind of company is new for me. Especially for how long you’re staying…”

“I’m a wonderful guest.” You placed your hands underneath your chin and put a big smile on your face. “Just ask anyone who has let me stay in their homes for a while.”

“Alright get me that list and I’ll make some phone calls.” Vessel chuckled, standing up and grabbing your empty plate. He walked over to the sink to start on the dishes, turning on the music again and humming quietly.

“Do you want a hand?” You asked as you stood from the table.

He shook his head and turned to look at you. “I’ve got it, you should go get some sleep Y/N you look exhausted.” He turned back to the sink and you watched as his arms flexed each time he put some force to scrub the dishes.

“Alright..” You couldn’t lie, the jet lag was hitting you hard at this point and the lack of sleep you got the night before has made itself very known. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” He responded as your feet shuffled back upstairs to your room. It was very quiet up there adding even more to your exhaustion. The set of pajamas you’d laid out before had quickly replaced the clothes on your back and you tossed them to the floor, making a mental note to clean that up tomorrow.

You turned off the lamp in the room and was comforted by the darkness that encompassed you. The sheets were silk and the comforter was heavy, it reminded you of the ones hotels always had. You slipped underneath the covers and laid there for a bit with your eyes open. Eventually you glanced at the clock on the bedside table, 11:24pm it read. You sighed and laid back against the pillows, sleep pulling at your eyelids and drawing them shut.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #vessel #sleep token

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agirlandherquill · 3 months

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Written In Smoke - The Letter Stained In Ink

this week's letter comes to you fresh off the high of finishing reading a book, which i'll be sure to ramble about a little later on so bear with me, a few things have happened this week so here goes!

A Glimpse Through Time - little bits about me and what I’ve been up to this week

the past few days at least have been a lot, a good lot don't get me wrong, but a lot, now here's what I've been up to

A great chunk of my Saturday afternoon comprised of watching F1 (slipping in another fact about me, i'm a big fan), watching the practice, then an F2 sprint and then the F1 Qualifying for the big race - and i'm so freaking happy because my two favourite drivers are in the top 3 positions for tomorrow (you can tell this is written mere minutes after watching the madness) - it's also pretty cool because the track for the UK's race isn't all that far from me, and I'm hoping to grab tickets for next season

While I was watching the incredible chaos of F1, I was also reading, bit more on that below, but the universe must love me because the race finished the same moment that I read the final sentence of my book - talk about timing

I BOOKED MY TRIP TO BATH - I'm so so excited to go and see the Jane Austen Centre and Mary Shelley's House of Frankenstein, issue is I have just over a week to read 4 more Jane Austen books (I've only read persuasion and pride and prejudice, both twice) and Frankenstein (this is my motivation to finally read it haha), but it'll be doable for sure

This absolute genius was 3 hours late (cough, attempting to renew at 2am, cough) returning library books, but the people at the library were so sweet and got rid of the 15p charge and renewed them for me instead - first, and hopefully only time I'm late with library books fingers crossed

Books - This week's been a bit more productive writing-wise, so I only had time to read one book this week, and I finished it today (saturday, incase I take too long to write the rest of this week's entry and send it off tomorrow instead, and let's be honest, it's likely) - You, by Caroline Kepnes, and I've seen the show many, many times, and the book was just as addictive, I'm thinking of reading the rest but that might be a plan for the future since my bookshelves and kindle library are begging me to read the books i own and have yet to read rather than buying more - I did however grab a copy of P.S I Love You in a charity shop and I can't believe it, it literally looks NEW, so I'm going to look forward to reading and watching the movie at some point - I'm also halfway through Love, Theoretically and I am OBSESSED, that and Love Hypothesis were the only books I was planning on reading by the author but now I'm not so sure, they're so GOOD

Shows/Movies - My. Lady. Jane. SPEECHLESS (as of writing this I'm only on episode 5, but I'm hoping to finish it this weekend) and I can't wait to devour the book when the tie-in edition comes out (this is one I NEED in paperback, sorry bookshelves), I also watched Empire Strikes Back this week and can I just say I'm more of a Leia and Han fan than I expected to be - they're so good

Music - us. by Gracie Abrams (this is one of very few of her songs that I know but it is so good to write with, on loop, or it was for the scene I was writing, but that's just what it's like being a writer I suppose, music changes with each scene and some songs fit better than most), Chlorine by TOP - my friends introduced me to them and this is probably my favourite song of theirs, and that's it for this little segment they're the two main songs I can think of

oh and I can include a slightly major adulting achievement - I voted for the first time this week, it was a strange, strange feeling but it happened - I'm not big on politics, not at all, so I won't say too much about it but the thought of crossing a box to decide a country's future is really funny to me, I could not tell you why, but it makes me laugh

Spills From The Ink-Pot - writing, writing, and more writing

this is England, it may be July but the skies sure do know how to pour - which means more time indoors for me writing (I do love writing outside, when it's not too cold, but the rain's brought a little bit of an anti-summer chill, shocker, so this week's been more of an indoors-y one for me)

The current draft of Ruin's Reprisal took a bit of a hammering, as did my keyboard - in the last 3 days alone I've written 6,000 (ish) words, which is a lot for me recently, and it's only going to be more still throughout the rest of this weekend - people ask me why I have a keyboard cover on my laptop, this is why, I hate the thought of wearing down the keys and leaving fingerprints on my screen when I shut my laptop- and with a keyboard cover none of that happens, and my keyboard survives just a little longer (pray for the poor thing, I know I am) - at the time of almost publishing this letter I'm now sitting at 12,000 words written by the end of the weekend (whoops)

Current Word Count is sitting at 212,525, but that's with me having edited up to halfway through Part Two, it's by no means a set number given the amount of chapters I still have to go through, but it's progress (and i love progress)

I'm thinking of making a checklist in these letters to encourage myself to do more writing things in the next week, so here's next week's goals:

Come up with Part Titles - I have Chapter ones, why not for Parts too?

I want to finish Part Two by next week - that's 5 chapters away, possibly doable?

Slightly bigger goal than just next week - I want to write a short story, or a story, maybe not so short, but I want to write start to finish over the summer (maybe it'll be a novella?), it's a challenge I'm setting for myself alongside writing Ruin's Reprisal, and it starts with the little snippet I released earlier this week - writing on a clueless whim becomes an actual, surprisingly good thing, who knew?

I have plenty to show you this time around dear reader, so here's a few snippets for you to sink your teeth into:

She grabbed his hand and pressed it over her bleeding thigh. “Do it. Heal me.” Fenley frowned. “Edeva-” “There’s no time. They’ll find us. I need you to do it.” His brows furrowed, he watched her carefully. “You’ll reject it, won’t you?” He’s figured it out, or he thinks he has. Either way, it doesn’t matter. “This Exilza will survive.” Fenley’s jaw tightened. “I’ll hurt you.” His eyes swept up from her leg to her face. She caught his stare, and she held it. “Then hurt me. I know you’ll make it right.” “…But I can’t.” She watched his throat bob up and down. He’s not willing to hurt me more before he heals me. Her fingers twitched by her sides. It’s going to take drastic measures to make him do it. She reached up and slung her arm over his shoulders, drawing him in close, Fenley grunted in shock, she used his distraction to grab one of the knives from his coat, he jerked back, his mouth hanging open as she buried the blade in her thigh, close to her wound, and buried her face in his chest to muffle a cry of pain. She breathed deeply and braced herself to rip out his knife. She pressed it into his hands. “Until I bleed out, my life is yours. Decide.”

This was not hunting, this was not defence, this was murder through and through. Edeva had taken a life, and now the epithet hanging over her name was true. I am a murderer. Vanquisher. Slaughterer. Monster. She sank to her knees, clutching her head, as the names began to swirl, over and over until they blurred, becoming a perpetual scream in her mind, she could think, still she could not breathe, she could not move. The ground shook, the Oksa were coming for her. She did not look, she did not lift her chin from her chest, she remained still on her knees, succumbing to her fate, her punishment for what she had done. I deserve it. I took a life of theirs and they’ll take this life of mine. The darkness crept in, it took over her, numbing the world until all she could see was the dark, shrouding her like a cloak. Her heart stuttered in her chest. This was not death, this was Shael. “Edeva.” Fenley’s whisper forced her to lift her head. He was on his knees too, one hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing?” “Accepting.” She hadn’t the strength to say more, or the strength to look him in the eye, but he stopped her, he made her, his fingers grasped the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled back sharply enough to force her to meet his gaze. “There is nothing to accept and I will not see you give up, I will not see you submit, not to them. I will not stand around watch your neck break - I won’t,” His jaw clenched. “I won’t, and you won’t either.” The hand on her shoulder pushed roughly and she fell, she fell from the ethereal cloak of Shael and back to the world, back to the fighting. Where Oksa had been there were now smoking remains, such smoke wasn’t normal, and she realised it wasn’t. It was shadow. Whatever Fenley had done she was glad she hadn’t seen it, but he had done it to help her, to save her, to help her save herself - for just a little longer. Something glinted to her right, it was her sword, sticking out of the dirt. Fenley. He wants me to fight. He wanted her to do the impossible. “I can’t.” She closed her eyes, her fingers curling in on themselves as her hand hung limply by her side. Vitaires do not fall. We stand. We stay standing. Her Mama’s words had never been so loud in her mind. They were true, they were everything she needed, much like Fenley’s push. I am Edeva Vitarie and I will stand. She took her first breath, then another, I. Will. Stand.

and this next snippet comes from the short story i'm writing (alas yet to be given a title): “It isn’t very often someone gets away with saying no to me.” She startled at his voice. She turned to see him squatting atop a large bin, crammed against a wall, overflowing with rubbish, none of it seemed to bother him as he prowled over its lid and crept down to her level. Her fingers stilled against her laces. “Have I?” “Not quite.” “I should warn you I’m expected somewhere.” “This won’t take long, I came only to give you this.” She flinched at an envelope hitting her lap, she hadn’t felt him move, let alone seen it. “If I open it, will it kill me?” “That envelope contains ink and paper, nothing more.” “Nothing less, either.” She mused, slipping the envelope into her coat. “Your stationery is what most would die for.” “Really? I thought I was using the cheaper stuff.” “Rich, are we?” His laugh almost tempted one of hers. “Not quite. Save your questions for another night, I trust we’ll have one.” He sounds more self assured than the corporate suits that rule the city, is such a thing possible? She stood, laces tied, envelope secure, and hugged herself. The chill of the night had never been so clear to her as it was now. “If I tell you no, again, will you seek me out?” “You sought me first, I only thought to return the favour.” Is that… A touch of defence? How interesting. “Very well, I-” “I thought I’d lost you for a minute there, everything all right?” The Assistant’s voice cut through the alley, she turned around, putting on a reassuring smile. “I needed to tie my laces that’s all.” She took a few steps toward him, only glancing back as they went to turn back onto the street. The alley was empty, he was gone. His letter seemed to weigh more in her pocket before, she placed a hand over it to steady it, and herself. My refusal paid off, he’s more interested than ever before. The more interest, the more willing he is to tell his story. He wanted another night, she sought out plenty more - and she would have them. She had him hooked, and she knew it.

good grief this week's one is LATE (apologies dear reader, these past few days have been busy ones) but here you go! this week's letter is all typed up, compiled and heading your way!

~ A Girl and Her Quill

Tag List! (if you want to be notified when a WIS post comes out, interact with this post :) )

@lead-to-code @catwingsathena @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings @thestorywitch @lunaeuphternal

@theaistired @frostedlemonwriter

#writeblr #written-in-smoke

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ravenmichaelisstuff · 1 year

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Chapter 14(?) of "Better late than never"

Soapghost, flights and cartoons.

Sorry for the long wait but I had some real life drama. I hope that this will bring you all some joy as I decided to bring SoapGhost on a little vacation! I mostly focused in this one on a let's say build up for the next chapters but I managed to make them watch cartoons while at it ❤️

Cartoons

The days in the UK were starting to be unbearably hot, so much that day to day life on the base was getting insufferable. Morning jogs weren't bringing him any satisfaction as he was dripping sweat after just a few minutes outside, not even running yet. His usual morning coffee was undrinkable in this weather, even Ghost has ditched his boiling hot tea.

The only positive of this horrendous weather was that Ghost not only abandoned his drink of choice but also his usual get up. Now Soap had the great pleasure of seeing Ghost's arms every day. Which- dont get him wrong, he knew it sounded lame but with the amount of clothes Ghost usually wears this was a treat.

But even that wasn't salvaging how he felt on base. All he was thinking about now was a vacation, swimming and drinking cold beer.

And remember how he promised Ghost that he’d take him to the beach one day? He was going to make it happen.

Half of his plan was already done. The easy part which was convincing Price to give him AND Ghost a leave. What was important was that the leave for Ghost was not yet discussed with the man himself because Soap knew that he wouldn't want to take it himself.

Price didn't even raise his eyes from his ashtray when Soap burst into his office with his request.

"...and ah think that a wee break would do us both some good. Si- Ghost will agree if-"

"MacTavish, I signed off on your leave already during your rambling. If you will successfully convince Simon to actually go? Son, I will give you the best box of cigars I own, because that muppet has been postponing his leave for years and I never could convince him.... you though? I believe you can, so good luck." Price waved him off.

Soap let out an amused chuckle. "Thanks, cap."

"Oh and Soap?" Price stopped him before he could get out.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For taking care of him. He is... calmer now, since you are around." Price looked at Soap with that knowing eyes of his.

Soap just stood there for a second, a warm feeling spreading through his chest knowing that maybe he was making a difference for Simon. He allowed himself a gentle smile.

"It's... It's good tae hear. I think he is good for me too, Price."

****

Soap stood before Ghost's bedroom door, mentally getting ready for the conversation. But he set himself a goal and he was going to achieve it, if he has to he will bribe the lieutenant into agreeing.

Deep breath.

He enters.

The doors open just how he expected. Ghost sat on his bed, legs spread out a bit with his elbows perched on his knees. He was reading a book, not raising his eyes from it when Soap entered. He was clearly feeling as hot and miserable as the sergeant did since his balaclava was nowhere to be seen, his hair flowing thanks to the turned on fan.

How Ghost knew every time that it was him who entered the room was beyond him.

"Hm?" Ghost hummed, clearly not having any energy to even lift his head.

"Pack yer things." Soap set on quick and direct approach. No beating around the bush.

And…

He quickly regretted his choice when he saw how quickly Ghost had whipped his head up to look at him. Worry and a bit of panic visible on his face without the cover.

"Did something happen? Are we getting moved?"

"God, no-"

"Are they moving me?"

"No, we are fine, Simon. Relax, dear god." Soap sat at the foot of the bed.

"Then the fuck do you mean, Soap?" Ghost visibly relaxed.

“We have a flight to Scotland in like 3 hours and you really should be already packed.” Johnny said casually. Ghost looked at him like he grew a second head.

“Did Price send us out on a mission that I apparently don’t know about?”

“Yes, mission codename- vacation.” Soap clapped his hands together.

Ghost still looked confused.

“I am taking you on leave, Lt.”

“No, no you don’t.”

“Yes, yes ah do. It’s decided, Price signed on it. Noo c’moan, I will help ya, a’m already packed.”

“What do you mean? I didn’t agree.”

“Yeah, you never do.” Soap opened Ghost’s wardrobe. “I wouldn’t be taking a lot of those hoodies, one is enough just in case.”

Ghost was still sat on the bed. “I am not going, Johnny.”

Soap sighed, turning to Ghost. “Alright, tell me one, one reason fur how come ye don’t wanna go.”

“I don’t do well in public transport and you know it.”

“That’s the dumbest excuse you ever had and yes, you are right. I do, know that.”

“Then-”

“Business class flight- no one will bother yer ass.”

Ghost was slightly taken aback before he came back to his annoyed face. “Well, Glasgow is too… busy for me.”

“Who said we are going to Glasgow? I promised to take you to the beach, remember?”

Ghost averted his eyes and looked to the side. He nodded slightly.

“St Andrews is a wee coastal town. It’s calm there and it’s bloody gorgeous. I planned this Ghost, thought about this a lot. Yer gonna have to try harder.”

“Ok.” Ghost raised his eyes at soap. “I am going to feel useless and fucking awful. Every time I am off base I feel like a piece of shit. Is that enough of an excuse? I don’t belong out there anymore.”

Soap sat next to Ghost again. “Yeah, you don’t belong there by yourself. Ye deserve someone to go with you and spend time with ye.”

“Johnny-”

“I promise you won’t regret it. Fucking pinkie promise.” He held out his little finger to Ghost.

Ghost raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You are something else, MacTavish…”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“But I don’t pay for shit.”

Soap laughed and took Simon's hand in his to finally hook their pinkies together. “I promise.”

****

And so their journey to Scotland began.

Soap knew that public airports weren’t Ghost’s favorite thing, probably on the very bottom on that list actually. So he made sure that he booked an early flight and arrived with Ghost at such an hour so they missed the big crowd that would usually gather there.

Of course Ghost being Ghost for the most part was still brooding and it was a nightmare to get through security with him since it was beeping all over. The daft bastard refused to leave his knives so Soap had to stand there and watch Ghost hand over all of the unnecessary metal he had attempted to bring on the flight.

He had an immense urge to slap the lieutenant on the back of his head.

After lots of explanations and Soap’s charm they were allowed on board. Ghost looked surprised when they entered the plane and saw really expensive looking seats, where every one or two seat had its own private “box”.

Soap read their tickets and showed Ghost a box in the back. Ghost wouldn’t be lying if he said that it was probably the most comfortable and expensive thing he ever sat his ass on. He wondered how first class looked if this was business.

Soap put their luggage on the shelf over their heads and they could finally take a seat.

“Johnny?”

“Yep?” Johnny answered as the pilot’s voice started to soak through the speakers about safety and yada, yada, yada.

“How much did this cost?”

“Don’t worry aboot it. I have some saved money since ah don’t spend a lot from what I get and that's a crakin' occasion tae spend it”

“I would have survived the economy, you didn’t have too.”

“No, ah knew ye would have. But ye wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“I still don’t get why take me then.”

Soap let out an exasperated huff and rolled his eyes. “When will ye get that ah like you near me? It wouldn’t be fun If you stayed on base and I promised you beach.”

Soap could see Ghost smile gently under his surgical mask and his ears blushed ever so slightly even though he was looking out of the plane’s window at something.

“Where are we even staying?”

“It’s not a ‘need to know’” The Scot mocked Ghost’s voice and smirked.

“Soap.” Ghost side eyed the Scot.

“Just joking, Lt. Ma’ family has a vacation house there, so at least a’m saving on that.”

Ghost hummed in acknowledgment, but then he squinted and turned his head to the side.

“Did you tell your family about this?”

“Just my sister. If I told my ma’ she would cut my head off for not spending my leave with them.But I need to relax and not be obliterated with my family being… well my family.” Soap reached into his hand bag in search of something. “Don’t get me wrong- they are lovely. But I would rather spend it with you this time.”

Ghost tried not to think too much about that sentence and its meaning.

“Got it!” Soap pulled out a tablet out of his bag. “The flight won’t be long, but I thought we could watch something.” He opened his saved movies and series. “Fancy a horror?”

“Not really.” Ghost looked at the tablet’s screen.

“Don’t tell me the big, bad Ghost is scared?”

“Have enough horrors on the daily, don’t you think?”

“...Fair. You are right. What about….” He started scrolling through his collection but got stopped by Ghost.

“What’s that?” He pointed at a header with a blue cartoon dog.

“Oh.” Soap chuckled. “I watched it with my niece on my last leave. It was surprisingly really fucking good so I saved it. I watched it a few times after missions- to unwind I suppose. Now you can laugh at me for watching cartoons.”

“I can’t judge- I don’t remember if I ever watched any cartoons.” Ghost sounded a bit distant.

“There is no way ye didn’t have a cartoon ye absolutely loved. Looney Tunes?”

Ghost just shook his head.

“Come on, Scooby-Doo? The Addams family? …You look like an Addams Family guy.”

“No, I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.” Ghost crossed his arms.

“You- seriously? Nothin’?”

Ghost shrugged and fixed his eyes on the tablet. “Never had… the luxury as a kid I guess.”

‘Luxury?’ Thought Soap, but decided not to pry. “Ah mean- it’s never too late. We can watch this if ye want.”

“It’s whatever.” ‘I really want to.’

Soap smirked and pressed play on the first episode of Bluey. He plugged in his earphones and passed one to Ghost.

Even though the cable was long enough for them to not sit close, Ghost leaned closer to Johnny and pressed their shoulders together. They both relaxed into the seats as the happy tune of the cartoon started.

Soap fell asleep after the first 15 minutes, probably exhausted by the stress of getting Ghost on the plane. But Simon didn’t and after the first episode came another and another. He didn’t even notice when he rested his head on Johnny’s shoulder and started chuckling at all the things the little dog characters were doing. And if the episodes made him feel a bit jealous or sad because he never got to experience half of the love those characters were showing to one another it was only for a second. Because he got one glance at the man resting his head against his own, his face relaxed, crow feet visible at the corners of his eyes and he thought. “Yeah, maybe it’s really never too late.”

I want to thank all my beta readers from Twitter especially Hel and I am looking forward to reading your comments ☺️

#soapghost #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #cod #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #soap cod #cod modern warfare #soap mctavish #simon ‘ghost’ riley #soft simon riley #soft ghost #ghostsoap fluff #ghostsoap fanfic #bltn soapghost fic #Yet to be bete readed and edited so expect thattttt

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modelbus · 2 years

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Hello! I Hope You’re having a good day/night! I was wondering if you could do a cc!ranboo x reader (romantic)? He/him pronouns if they’re used at all. But maybe the two are in a long distance relationship, Reader lives in the US while Ranboo lives in the UK. And so the reader decided to fly out and surprise Ranboo. But reader also got Tommy, Aimsey and Billzo to all plan out a little outing to a cafe or to the beach and then the reader will show up and be like ‘surprise!:D’

Confession: I haven't caught a Ranboo stream live in months

Pairing: CC!Ranboo x Male!Reader (romantic)

Secret Surprise

Your phone was blowing up as you finally left your hotel, stepping out into the chilly UK air. In a way, England was exactly like America. Cold. But in every other, it was so different. Seriously, what self-respecting country calls their money pounds?

You have to push your grievances about the country change aside though because you aren't here just to travel. Ranboo, your long-distance boyfriend, was why you were here. He wasn't aware of it, but you had flown all the way from the US just to surprise him. Hell, you had even roped Tommy, Aimsey, and Billzo into it!

Speaking of which, you should probably answer them. Reaching into your jacket's pocket, you fish out your phone and accept Tommy's incoming call.

"Where the fuck are you?!" His loud voice fills your ear.

"I'm on my way, I had to convert my money."

"Aimsey and Billzo can only distract him for so long so hurry the fuck up."

"I'm fucking trying here! Google maps says I'm, like, three minutes away."

"You better be." Tommy says ominously. "Ranboo is trying to get us to leave. I've had seven biscuits. Seven!"

"Why did you have seven biscuits?" You ask. Their instructions were to keep Ranboo distracted at the cafe until you arrived, and not to eat seven biscuits.

"I challenged him to a contest, but that's not the point. The point is, I'm hanging up so you should hurry."

He doesn't even give you a chance to speak before doing exactly as he says and hanging up. With a laugh, you check Google maps again then tuck your phone away. God, this was going to be so much fun. Besides finally seeing Ranboo in person you were going to be able to hang out with everyone!

Finally, you spot the cafe up ahead. The name was written on the windows next to some amazing art of a fox with a scarf. It’s actually conveniently blocking anyone inside from seeing the sidewalk outside, the whole reason Aimsey had suggested this specific place.

A bell chimes when you enter, alerting literally everyone to your entrance.

“A spider! Look! Ahhh!” A familiar voice screams.

“I don’t see any spider-“

“Keep looking, you’ll see it!”

You finally locate the person that’s yelling, eyes lighting up when you realize it’s Tommy. Next to him, sitting at the table, are three other familiar faces. Holy shit. This was real.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late.” You say, taking the empty seat next to Ranboo. He jumps so badly that he actually moves his chair away from you on accident.

“Dude, fucking finally!” Tommy groans.

“Yeah, you’re late.” Aimsey adds.

“Wha-“ Ranboo sputters, eyes wide. You've never seen him so shocked, not even when you admitted you were crushing on him.

“So there isn’t a spider?” Billzo clarifies, eyes darting between you and the wall.

“No, you dumbass. I was distracting Ranboo so he wouldn’t see his boyfriend walk in.” Tommy snarks.

“Oh my God!” Ranboo exclaims. “You’re here!”

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

The corner of his eyes crinkle, a sure sign of a huge smile. Your expression is probably the exact same.

After a pause, he drags you into a tight hug. It’s all you can do to try and not squeeze the life out of him. After so long of being unable to, the hug will be your new favorite memory. They're safety and comfort all wrapped into one warm motion.

“Surprise.” You murmur, still hugging him.

“Okay, stop hugging now and pay attention to us.” Tommy announces.

“Shut up.” Aimsey hisses.

“We did all- Ow!”

“How long are you here for?” Ranboo asks, completely ignoring them.

“As long as you want me to be. Within six months because of visa shit.”

“Six months.” He answers immediately.

“This is a really long hug, did Ranboo suffocate them?” Billzo asks.

“Excuse you?!” Ranboo asks, turning in horror.

“Disappointing.” Tommy sighs. “I would’ve milked his death for clout.”

You have no doubt about that.

“Thanks?” You say, unsure of how to respond.

“You don’t know this, but when they say stupid things like that we smack them.” Aimsey informs you. “Like this.”

“AHH-“

You glance at Ranboo to find him already looking at you. He gives you a nod, signaling they were always like this. This was going to be a long six months, but you couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Or with anyone else, for that matter.

#ranboo #ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo imagine #ranboolive #mcyt #dsmp #ranboo mcyt #ranboo dsmp

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