#we're going to the pub after work next week and he was like “i will be there. dont worry i will be there! i will not miss it!” hes so lovely

[sleepymccoy]

Hey sleepy! I liked your reply about your job and the questions you need to think about wording. I saw something in your tags and wanted to provide my experience if that's ok? I don't know how valuable it is to share, and it may be the case that you already know or have considered this, so, to be taken or left at will :)

You say you see a lot of autistic people on tumblr having strong negative reactions to normal interactions, which can be a bit confusing. And it's true! They are normal and polite, and to some extent necessary. What I want to say is this : I am autistic, and growing up I struggled a lot with these subtle questions. I did get a lot better at this with practice, and conscious effort - I am 30 years old now, and my interactions are easier to navigate, even if I still regularly run into the same problems I used to. This makes me have complicated interactions with people, but complicated is just part of life, and most people are quite helpful I find.

Where I think the problem still lies for me, and where this anger might be coming from when people complain about this online, is that people quite regularly still get angry or upset with me when I don't answer properly or seem like I don't understand something easy. I mean like colleagues at work, where we range from 30 to 55 years of age.

There is a difference between your work and mine, question wise, I think : my colleagues don't know I'm autistic, while you know your patients have dementia. They think I'm a bit weird (this has been communicated to me lol), but no more. It may be that you simply don't interpret them as rude, because you know they're not trying to be, while people regularly interpret my behavior this way - rude, lazy, stupid, what have you. In my life I am finding people to not always be very patient when I don't follow the expected script. Many people are!! Most people are. And we go back and forth asking more questions to figure out what we're talking about, and sometimes I can feel that they are finding this a bit funny, but it works out in the end. But the angry and upset ones weigh heavy, and when I was a child many more people felt comfortable, I think, being angry with me. It took a lot of time to unlearn that I could get punished for asking follow up or clarifying questions for simple conversations.

I think, in short, that the autistic people you see complain about this have learned to be afraid. If they are young, or surrounded by less patient people, people might be getting angry at them often, or it may be recent in their life that they did get angry.

(It may also be that they have been trying to learn how to navigate these for a while, and it just won't work! It can be very hard to tell what went wrong in a given interaction and it's easy to leave it with the wrong conclusion. Working on this was a very frustrating process. But this is, I think, another subject.)

Thank you for your patience with my many many words, and please have a good day :)

Hey thank you!!

Especially thank you cos I was a bit nervous rambling like that cos I definitely don't want to try and take away from autistic people's experiences, or put myself in a place where I shouldn't be. I fully get that a lot of tumblr stuff is people not looking for solutions and just venting about their life (that's healthy! You need a space for that!) so I don't wanna step in all defensive and explanatory when someone's just had a particularly shit day. I'm very pleased you read it (long as it was) and didn't come away offended ❤️

I expect I do have quite different experiences, one (obviously) because I'm not autistic. The other being I work in a place that pretty much requires abnormal patience to be able to do the job. This job also is hugely culturally diverse and the style of communication in the break room is plain and simple English and trying to reword sentences quickly and blamelessly because confusion is presumed to be a cultural mishmash or struggle with english. There are definitely neurodiverse staff who I work with (some have told me, some just struggle beyond a language barrier) but it isn't much of an issue cos of the culture we've built. This probably puts me on a back foot cos it seems so easy to me to chat to everyone I meet, just by code switching slightly as needed. That's basic politeness

So yeah, if there's fucking adult professionals in the world not approaching colleagues with politeness and generosity, you'll have some bad times. I've had them at prior workplaces, bullies are cunts

There are of course a lot of differences between people living with dementia and autistic people, but I admit I hadn't thought of my awareness of their diagnosis! You're totally right, and being aware of someone's needs does change my behaviour.

I agree with you that it seems like people have learnt to be afraid of conversations. I think that's very sad, cos most conversations are harmless and fun.

The bit I see on tumblr that bothers me most really is the grouping of "all autistics think like this whereas all neurotypicals think like that" which just cannot help anyone actually chat. It's not always as a neurotypical = bad (although that is most often the tone), but I don't like how it removes uniqueness from people. And I think it's more of a situation where people are applying their personal trauma responses to a whole group of people and assuming it's correct cos it's true for them, individually.

Like, I see my staff room with three Nepalese (one of whom is on the spectrum), a Ugandan with brain damage, the most beautiful Ethiopian woman you'll ever see, the country guy with ADHD, and little me and we're all laughing at the same joke and I just am not seeing the neurotypical people in the room with the same cruelty and dismissiveness as what autistic people describe on tumblr

I can fully empathise how hard it is to shake childhood and lifelong damage from insidious stuff like what you're describing. I'm just not sure the tone I see on most autistic-centric posts are working on shaking it, I think they're wallowing. And it bothers me cos it's fucking sad, most people are fantastic!

I'm glad you mentioned that you do enjoy/don't struggle with most conversations you have these days! I also have some dud interactions throughout the week, but that's just personality clashes. Or the occasional racist 🙄. But most of it should be easy or fun, that's why we've culturally built polite interest small talk and referential shorthand jokes to show intimacy without invasiveness.

I guess it's a bit hard for me to hear that my attempts at being cheerful and causal and friendly might cause just stress in someone, and then I'd never know cos they go away to blog about it in anger. But I suppose I should get over that, if someone chooses not to talk to me about how I unknowingly make life difficult for them that's their choice and not my problem until I'm told

Cos I'm not gonna stop being cheerful and friendly just in case i confuse the odd someone, I'll be miserable and I'll feel cruel. But I am very sorry to think this sort of carry on could be unpleasant to anyone. I dunno, no fixes here of course ❤️❤️

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 2

Masterlist | Chapter 1 |-| Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Summary: Frankie's friendship with the men of the 100th continues to consolidate, even as her work takes its toll

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, language, me having no idea how B-17s work

Word Count: 4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp

The pub was noisy as ever, a patchwork crowd of blue and green, British and American, filling the low-ceilinged room, the stench of cigarette smoke and stale beer thick in the air. It seemed to Frankie that she only ever managed to get that smell washed out of her uniform in time to come straight back here and acquire it again, but it was the only place they could manage to find some real fun - after all, there were no men and no booze allowed in their Nissen hut. Although both rules had been known to be flouted.

"Stop fiddling with that, you'll make it worse," George tutted, batting at Frankie's arm as she took a sip of her beer. When one of the forts had crashed in a ball of flames earlier that week, she had seared herself helping to clear the debris, a burn mark running across the palm of her right hand. In her moments of absent-mindedness, she often found herself toying with the bandage, which caused the nurses great dismay when the dressings inevitably frayed and needed replacing.

"I can't make it worse, it's already almost healed," She shrugged, plucking a cigarette from her breast pocket. The two women had long since learned that bringing a whole pack led to nothing but strangers begging for a smoke, so they each only ever brought one out with them - besides, a pleasant smile could always swindle a hapless soldier out of another, should the need arise. "Hurt like a bitch, but the nurse lanced all the blisters the other day."

George grimaced, wiping some foam from the corner of her lip. As she let her gaze wander to the next table over, the voices of the men behind them growing more audible by the minute, she sighed. "Oh, here we go."

Craning her neck to have a look, Frankie watched on for a moment, recognising the faces of Egan, Cleven and the others as they chatted with a few RAF airmen in less-than-friendly tones. A crooked grin made its way across her expression, and she wiggled her brow at George as she stood up, taking her pint with her.

"Frank, no," Her companion whispered, tugging at her sleeve.

"Come on," She giggled. The pair burrowed their way through the dense crowds that crammed the pub, breaking free beside the men's table, lingering momentarily behind the three RAF pilots.

"So, let me get this straight," One of them asked. "You're Buck, and he's Bucky?"

"Is there a shortage of nicknames in the 100th?" Another spoke, a smug smirk creasing his cheeks.

Frankie took another sip of her beer and spoke up, the sudden sound drawing the attention of all of the men at the table. "No, but there is a shortage of tossers, I'm sure you could fill the ranks," She said sweetly.

"Wa-hey!" Bucky cheered, a pink tinge on his cheeks indicating that he was already reasonably intoxicated. Wordlessly, he leapt to his feet, scrounging for a pair of extra chairs for the two women.

"Hiya, George," Biddick smiled dreamily, cradling in his in the palm of his hand. "How ya doin'? You look nice."

"I'm doing good, thanks Curt," George smiled, accepting a seat with a quick thanks to Bucky. Frankie let out a snort as she sat down beside her.

"Only thing we're short of is crews, gents," Egan sighed, taking his place between Frankie and Cleven and attempting to drape an arm across the back of her chair before she shoved him off.

"Hm. Pity," One of the RAF men said, condescension dripping in his tone.

"Pity what, exactly?" Frankie urged, getting the distinct feeling that there was a whole argument bubbling under the surface here that she had not been party to.

"Well, they'd have more if they flew their missions at night - as an RAF woman yourself, surely you must know that."

She raised a brow, talking over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of beer. She could feel Bucky tensing beside her. "Yunno, if the RAF paid me a bit more I might feel some loyalty to them, but I'm with the Yanks. You're the prick here, mate." George lifted her glass in a silent toast of agreement, a smirk curling the corner of her lips.

The Englishman's jaw clenched as he peeled his irritated gaze away from her to look at the men. "I think we ought to make some sport of this. Any one of you will do."

"Oh, don't say that, Frankie'll beat your ass," Bucky muttered under his breath, just quiet enough that only she and Cleven could hear, grins spreading across their expressions.

"Sounds like an excellent idea," Cleven rose to his feet to accept the challenge, but before he could, Biddick was up beside him, tugging at his sleeve. He spoke in a low voice, and Frankie couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but she pieced it together when Curt's gaze kept flickering from Cleven to George, who watched on with a frown. He wanted to take the fight - wanted to impress her.

Once it was settled that Curt would be the one to fight, the group moved swiftly outside, half-empty drinks long forgotten at the table as they hurried to watch the spectacle. The alley outside the pub was unlit, the glow from inside casting faint shadows against the cobbles as they formed a tight circle, watching on expectantly. Frankie's cigarette hung from her lips, a cloud of smoke rising in front of her as Curt and the RAF airman began to circle one another, fists raised.

George clung tight to her elbow, grinning in anticipation. The Englishman caught the edge of a wonky paving stone, stumbling slightly, and the two women let out unflattering snorts. Curt winked at them, and Frankie rolled her eyes, although even in the darkness she could tell George was blushing.

"What do I get when I win?" He called over, tearing his gaze from his opponent.

It was George's turn to roll her eyes now. "I'll let you buy me a drink."

His boyish face lit up, and it seemed he had been wholly distracted from the fight. The Englishman lunged forward to take advantage of this, but Biddick didn't miss a beat, knocking him down with a single blow. Frankie let out a raucous cheer of celebration, her friend clapping along as the men whooped and jeered at each other.

"Milady," Curt grinned, holding out his hand to George, who accepted gladly, allowing him to lead her back into the pub for another drink. Frankie let out a huff, smiling as she stomped out her cigarette and watched the other RAF airmen pick their fallen comrade up off the ground. Letting out another laugh, the sound of it erupting into the night air, she began to follow the men of the 100th, finally letting Bucky sling his arm around her shoulders as they wandered back towards the Nissen huts, singing and shouting in celebration of Curt's victory.

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It was not yet five in the morning as Frankie scrounged to tie her bootlaces in the dark, toothbrush dangling out of her mouth, unbrushed hair tugged back into a messy ponytail. The pilots were taking off shortly after daybreak, and as some of the most senior mechanics at Thorpe Abbotts, the job often fell to her and Lemmons to carry out the last-minute safety checks and refuelling to ensure they'd all make it back in one piece.

None of the other women in her hut were required for duty yet, so Frankie did her best to shuffle about in the darkness as quietly as possible, refusing to turn on her bedside lamp so as not to wake George or any of her other less forgiving bunkmates.

Standing up from the edge of the bed once she'd finished tying her laces, she groped around blindly for her key to the mechanics' hut, accidentally banging her elbow on the corner of her metal bedframe in the process, waves of pain shooting up her arm. Pursing her lips tightly together, her whole body tensed, Frankie managed to find the key, waiting until she'd left the hut so that the cool night air would drown out the sounds of her pain.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She hissed as she scurried for her bike, waving her injured arm around wildly as if the movement could somehow dull the pain. She was so distracted that she'd almost completely forgotten about the burn on her hand - that is, until she clamped the handlebar with her injured palm and let out a yelp.

The sun was already rising as Frankie arrived on the airstrip, breaks squeaking as she wheeled to a stop outside the mechanics' hut, Lemmons already on site as he wrung his palms with one of the dirty rags they used to clean away excess lubricant. "You look like hell," He pointed out as she dismounted her bike, locking it up around the side of the building.

"Thanks, Ken," She replied sarcastically. "Rough wake-up call, beat myself up stumbling around in the dark."

Ken chuckled, handing over her toolkit. The pair had far few hours of sleep between them to chat as they worked, and it was all Frankie could do not to yawn as she checked the fuel tanks and oiled the landing gear. They'd been out for over an hour by the time the flight crews began to show up, the familiar sound of jeep engines pulling up behind her as she declared her job done.

"She ready to roll?" Bucky's voice rang out, and Frankie almost flinched as he clapped her over the shoulder, still reeling from the man's constant lack of volume regulation.

"All good," She confirmed. "Now get her outta my sight, and bring her back in one piece - can you handle that?"

He smirked. "Oh, you know I can."

"The number of wrecks you've given me would say otherwise, dear," Frankie teased, wiping engine grease off of her fingers with a rag as she turned on her heel, heading back towards the mechanics' hut.

"Hey!" Egan called, and she looked back at him. "You ain't gonna watch us take off?"

"The only thing I'm doing now is taking a goddamn nap," She laughed, feeling exhaustion tugging at her eyelids.

"Yeah, fair, you do look like shit," Bucky shrugged, recoiling as her filthy, oily rag smacked him in the shoulder as Frankie lobbed it across the airstrip. "Hey!"

"Respect women, you little bitch," She retorted, raising a middle finger as she wandered off, praying she could make the bike ride back to her bed without dozing off and crashing into a bush somewhere.

Frankie slept through the morning, right past lunch, and would've missed the cacophony of plane engines returning overhead had Lemmons not come to retrieve her, banging on the window above her bed. She peeled her eyes open slowly, waking with a start as she noticed the boyish face staring down at her through the glass.

"What the fuck?!" She asked groggily, voice raised so that he could hear her from outside.

"They're back, come on!"

Letting out a huff, Frankie dragged herself out from under the blankets, running her fingers through the knots in her hair for want of time to properly brush it. Stepping out through the front door as she finished fastening the top few buttons of her coveralls, Ken stood waiting for her, passing his weight impatiently between the balls of his feet.

"How's it lookin'?"

"Uh, all the ones we've got so far look alright. Although..." He trailed off, glancing awkwardly at her as they fetched their bikes.

"Although?"

"Biddick may have... crashed. In, uh... Scotland."

"He what?!"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Once it had been established that Biddick was still, in fact, alive, Frankie had few kind words to say about the pilot's wreckless flying, mourning the loss of a plane and the strings they'd have to pull to find a new one. Fortunately, George had been in an especially persuasive mood that night, and had managed to rope her into attending the party that was being held for the airmen to celebrate the success of their mission.

"Watch what they're calling a success, I'm the one who's gotta figure out how to ship a wrecked plane back from fucking Scotland," Frankie muttered as they approached the building, muffled music coming from inside as she tugged at the shoulders of her jacket, trying to force it to sit comfortably.

"Oh, stop complaining," George scoffed, grabbing her arm and forcing her to stop as she reached up to fix a smudge in her lipstick. "Look on the bright side for once - he didn't die!"

"That's especially good for you with your lovey-dovey eyes, huh? 'Oh hiya George, how ya doin' George, you look real pretty today George'," Frankie teased, putting on an utterly terrible American accent as she attempted to mimick Curt. George punched her in the arm and went inside without a word, a natural pink flush visible through her rouge.

The band was in full swing as Frankie followed her inside, the mingling crowds a mix of uniformed airmen, plainclothed local women, and a few servicewomen she recognised from the neighbouring huts. She was struggling to pretend she had ever wanted to come, nose burrowed in a glass of whiskey as she managed to dodge the flirting of a few slightly intoxicated pilots. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy parties - she just preferred them when there was no mountain of work hanging over her head for the following day. It was just as well she'd slept through lunch, otherwise her mood would've been frightful.

Bucky wanted to sing. He could feel the music running through his body, his toe tapping involuntarily against the polished floor as he sat slumped in a seat beside Buck. His friend had never enjoyed Bucky's singing - and although he pretended not to, he understood why. He couldn't carry a tune to save his life, but dammit if it wasn't fun.

The consensus had been a resounding no. No, he could not sing. But that was no fun - that was no way to celebrate, not in Bucky's book. He had caught Cleven off guard as he bolted from his seat, just quick enough to break away before his friend could grab him by the shoulder and drag him back down again. Approaching the microphone, an excited grin creasing his cheeks, his gaze scanned over the crowd before stopping on an unfamiliar face.

If anything, his performance would only be enhanced by a partner.

Frankie was beginning her second whiskey, lingering by George's shoulder as she made small talk with one of the radar operators from the women's hut next door. Bucky had tried to call her over once, but over the music and the crowd, she hadn't heard. He paused for a moment, wracking his brain for a way to get her attention without giving up the microphone. If he stepped away, he wouldn't have put it past Buck not to have the thing removed so that he couldn't perform.

"Fran!"

She turned to him instantaneously, ears pricked like a hunting dog, expression contorted with the murderous promise to carry out the threat she had issued the last time he'd used the nickname.

"Sing with me," Bucky beamed, holding out his hand. A smirk began to spread across her face, and he could see George patting her shoulder, egging her on. With a grin, Frankie passed her drink to the blonde, crossing the gap between them and meeting him at the mic as he cheered. Cleven's head was in his hands.

"You know the words?" He whispered.

"Well enough," She affirmed.

Never saw the sun shinin' so bright,

Never saw things goin' so right,

His suspicion had been correct. Frankie couldn't carry a tune any better than he could, onlookers grimacing at the complete lack of musical talent the pair possessed. Occasionally the lyrics would collapse into laughter as Bucky noted the way she had to crane her neck to even reach the microphone, but there was not a hint of embarrassment between them.

Watchin' the days hurryin' by,

When you're in love, my how they fly,

She caught his eye for a moment, their grins audible in their voices as they fought to keep up with the quick pace set by the band behind them. Arms outstretched, the curls in her hair bounced with each tap of her foot as she leant into the mic, their cheeks practically pressed together. The whiskey had left her slightly flushed, the tip of her nose blooming pink the way it always did. Anyone looking on probably must have thought there was something deeper between the two - the way they stood so close, their cheeks flushed pink, unable to keep a straight face whenever their eyes met. Frankie loved Bucky, that much was true, but it was the kind of platonic love that veered more into brotherhood than it ever would romance. If he had ever tried to kiss her, she probably would have knocked him out.

Blue days, all of them gone,

Nothin' but blue skies from now on,

He seized her by her shoulders in a fierce bear hug, and she let out a guffaw, so loud and so close to the microphone that it sent a shrill squeak of feedback around the room, the crowd grimacing for a moment before Bucky tugged her away and the terrible sound ceased. George was unable to clap for the glasses she held in both hands, but she whooped and cheered from the side of the room, the only person in the place giving them the true encore they both believed they deserved.

"I think we have a future in the industry," Bucky muttered into her ear, making her laugh again as they swayed side to side, his vice grip refusing to let up until she began pinching the flesh on the backs of his hands.

"Major!" A man called, scurrying up to them. "Major Egan sir, you've got a call."

"Alright, comin'," He nodded, clapping her over the shoulder as he made his way to the bar, where Cleven was already standing with the telephone.

George stepped up once Frankie was alone, returning her half-finished whiskey. "That was really something," She chuckled, voice raised over the music.

"I didn't know I had it in me," Frankie shrugged. "Y'know, that much raw, untapped talent should never go to waste, it's a tragedy." Her friend laughed, but Frankie's gaze had wandered over to the bar again, where the two Majors chatted jovially to whoever was on the other end of the line.

"Is that-?" She muttered to herself, telling George to give her a minute as she marched up to the men, leaning casually against the bar. Flashing a calm smile, she nodded to Cleven as Bucky chatted away on the phone. "Hey, is that Biddick on the line?"

"Sure is, all the way from-"

Cleven never got time to finish his sentence before she had darted in between the two men, wrenching the phone from Egan's hand before he had time to even register her presence. "Wh- hey!"

"Did you crash my fucking plane, Curt?" She snapped, the man on the other end of the line letting out a tiny yelp of surprise.

"Frankie!" Curtis chuckled nervously. "How's Georgie doin', is she well?"

"Answer the question, Biddick, did you - oh, piss off, Bucky," Frankie spoke hurriedly, slapping at Egan's hands as he tried to pry the receiver away from her. "What were you thinking?"

"Y'know," Biddick continued, completely dodging the question yet again. "The Scottish - they don't like you English very much, Frank."

"Historically speaking, that's pretty fair," She sighed, running a hand across her face. "Just... ask whoever's with if they've got a truck that can bring your wreck back from... where is it again?"

"Mostly in the vegetable patch."

"Right. Good to know. Now get your ass back here or I'm gonna set George up on a date with one of the ground crew boys."

She pulled the receiver away from her ear, chuckling at the muffled sound of Curt's protests as she handed the phone back to Bucky, who snatched it from her with a look as if to say 'What the hell?'.

"Yeah," He nodded along to whatever Biddick was now saying. "Yeah, uh-huh, I promise I won't let her. Don't you worry, dear." Bucky shot her a sideways glance and she snorted with laughter, holding her hands up in surrender as she backed away from the bar.

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The sky lit up a dozen shades of orange, red and blue, the faint thrum of explosions and gunfire rattling overhead as the anti-aircraft guns did their best to destroy the enemy's fight planes, high up through the clouds.

Frankie lingered outside the shelter, watching with her arms folded across her chest. Her pin curls never held for more than a couple of hours, and a halo of frizz encircled her head as a result of the night's commotion, eyes reflecting the stippling of lights above.

One of the airmen hurried past her towards the shelter, brow drawn inwards with anxiety, sweat visible on his brow even in the dark. He glanced at her, and almost went on his way, but back-tracked just as he was about the head down the steps.

"Uh, ma'am?" He urged. "We should really get inside."

"Yeah, in a minute," Frankie waved her hand, doing a double take as she realised the man looked familiar. "Hey, it's, uh - Crosby, right?"

He almost smiled. "Yes, ma'am. You're Ms Bevan, I believe - on the ground crew."

"Right you are. But call me Frankie, everyone else does."

Crosby didn't seem to know what to say to that, and settled for a simple, awkward nod. "We should really get in-"

"It gets a lot less scary when you're - what, three years in?" She paused a long moment before sucking in a breath, tearing her gaze from the sky above as she pointed at Crosby. "Hang on, aren't you the one whose vomit we keep having to clean out?"

Even in the dark, she could see his face turn beet red. "Oh, I am so sorry about it, ma'am, I swear I'm trying not to, it's just-"

Frankie chuckled, and he trailed off, clutching his uniform cap tightly with both hands. "Don't worry about it. I make the boys do it anyway, I don't touch the stuff," She grinned. "I'd probably do the same. I know more about planes than all of your pilots put together, but I've never flown in one before."

Crosby let out a huff at her confession, suddenly more at ease despite the chaos overhead. When he stared at it the way she did, the lights and sounds were almost beautiful. Almost.

"Why don't you head down below," She said. "Your COs will start wondering where you've got to."

He nodded, reaching the top of the steps that led down to the shelter and then holding out a hand, as if offering to help her down them. When Frankie just smiled, not moving an inch from her position, he took the hint, nodding as he began to descend.

"Oh, and Crosby!" She called. He doubled back, head peeking up over the wall. "Try chewing ginger root. Or a mint leaf. I've heard they help with the air sickness."

Crosby nodded again, firmly, as he took a mental note of her advice. "Thank you, ma'am - uh, Frankie."

She grinned. "Any time."

[elderberries-and-honey]

.・゜゜・𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘥'𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺 ･ﾟﾟ･｡ (author's note: this is meant to read as if she's been adding to it throughout the day when she finds time to write, hence the sort of choppiness of the entry)

Dear Diary,

Oh, how long it feels since I received my tickets to the theatre, I can hardly fathom that it's truly arrived! All my life I have dreamt of seeing the great works performed on the stage, and my darling husband has somehow made it come true.

Drearily though, this also means that Millie must leave us and return home. She is traveling alongside us into London and we are to part ways at the station. I hate to think of her being away but I have tried not to let it get the better of me.

After she helped me with delivering Atticus, I know now more than ever that she is needed at the workhouse. Lord only knows there are too few midwives who are as compassionate, caring and attentive to women as she is.

Before we set off to the station, everyone gathered in our backyard to bid her farewell and see us off for our trip, with the exception of Valerie who is working longer hours at the pub in Lawrence's absence.

Poor Louise was not taking it all too well. Her and Millie have become very close in their time together here and she turned herself into a mess many times throughout their goodbye. I think I heard her make Millie promise to write half a dozen times before I excused myself to ensure Lawrence was ready to leave, which was silly of me to even ask.

He has been packed since last week and is nearly more excited than I am. I think we could go anywhere though, and he would be more than gladdened to get away. He deserves a good, long holiday but I can only hope this small one will suffice for now.

Beth is going to stay at the house with Ozzy while we're away, and Louise and Jackson are taking Atticus with them back to their cottage. Beth insisted she could look after both our babies and was particularly sour with Lousie over it throughout the day. Nevertheless, everyone else was in agreement it would be far too hard on her and I was silently thankful for this. She is a brilliant lady, but I think she forgets she is growing older.

Truthfully, I troubled myself to leave our children at all. Atticus is still small, no matter how quickly he's growing these days, and Ozzy struggles to be without me somewhere in the nearby, even if it seems he still prefers Beth's company over mine. I have long since stopped trying to fix this, and have been trying to learn how to accept it, even if it still aches in my heart.

We will only be gone for two days but even one seems like far too many. Lawrence has assured me countless times they are in good hands and I know he's right. We are surrounded by people who love and adore our children, and care for them as if they were their own, but I couldn't help fretting over it despite this.

And after all, we are going to see a play written by the beautifully talented Oscar Wilde and how wrong it feels for my Oscar not to be there to see it! Someday, though, we will travel to London and see the great arts together as a family.

The train ride from Wales to London always startles me with how quickly it passes by. You step into the train car and the next thing you know you're already on the platform surrounded by people. It seemed much longer when Lawrence and I first began writing to each other. I would wait for what felt days to receive his letters and it made the distance between us seem much farther than it was.

That's one thing I do miss about London, the hustle and bustle of the inner city and all the interesting strangers you encounter. Seldom do I try to converse, but that's hardly what's entertaining, is it? I think it's much more fascinating to watch them!

But, I was grateful no one seemed to feel the same (too many places to be and people to see, I suppose) because bidding Millie farewell hurt worse than I could have fathomed.

Even Lawrence found himself a bench to occupy, pretending to be terribly interested in the advertisements, so Millie and I could have our "almost" private moment. He is a tender hearted man and I hope we didn't keep him waiting too long.

We hugged each other for a good long while, and whenever I would begin to think I was ready to let go, another bout of tears started to fall. We promised not to wait so long to see each other this time. The few years that we quarreled were agonizing and I will never know what life is like without her ever again.

There is a bond young girls make, one that stays with you in your heart beyond when your time comes, and I'm grateful to have Millie tucked safely inside of mine.

next / previous / first

[vampirevatican]

Heart Don't Stand a Chance

a record player starts, and the countess opens a book. “tonight, you'll hear the tale of two strangers growing closer. i hope you enjoy, delulutober!”

pairing - hobie brown x black! fem reader

genre/tags - MDNI, friends to lovers, unrequited/unconfessed love, smoking weed, extremely touch starved/cuddly but "we're just friends", smut, oral, groping, p in v sex, mating press, foreplay, teasing

summary - he talked you up from the club all the way to your place. you shared blunts, thoughts, and feelings, but somewhere along that road from strangers to friends something started to grow.

notes - 2.5k words, i heard this song. i thought about hobie bc as chill as he is, he carries himself like he's hot shit and even with that there is a depth to him. attempt at his british slang pattern, or bbe (black british english)... mighta blew my best work in the first half, ye.

Tonight was a clubbing kind of night. After the week you had it was crucial to go out looking the baddest and having a night on the town. You couldn't get carried away on drinks, had to drive yourself home, and didn't feel like dealing with ignorant men trying to get you wasted. Infact, you weren't gonna tolerate any nigga that tried to shoot his shot tonight. Yes you were the finest thing out here but that didn't mean you had to suffer their bullshit. Then he showed up, tall, dark and handsome.

"Hey there peng ting," and his voice, "thought I could chirps you for a bit." You let him, but find yourself rolling your eyes. "Alright boy, what's ya name?" You take the bait and with that cute accent of his he says, "Hobie, Hobie Brown. Yours?" Your heart, or something else, was already dead set on how hot he is and if the conversation went nice this exception would be worth it. It was, because he spent that night just talking to you. Sure he flirted but it felt more like a teasing banter than him being desperate for you to be in his bed.

He would've been drinking but decided to hold off for you, "Who needs Vera Lynn, when you're here, I'm already bein' entertained." You laughed and he swore he'd never hear a more beautiful sound. "So where's your ends, would've spotted a pretty bird like you a while ago." Hobie could feel that you were trying to stay guarded but you hadn't pushed him away or backed off. "Islington," She answered and took a sip of her drink with those shiny lips, "From outta the country for a bit. Call it a vacation and business trip." Her voice was like music to his ears and he couldn't get enough, "Ah, you're my neighbor then. Islington a straight shot to London, innit? If you're doing business, what's your business here then?" Basic small talk but he had gotten all the info he needed out of you then and there. Name, Occupation, Intrests and a couple other base line things along with hearing that lovely laugh.

It was far too long for the both of you to have felt such a spark and comfortability between another person. Sure he had his 'bredrin' but something about this was different, it was like there was more to it. The night flew by and even though the club was packed it felt like it was just you and him.

"So you usually frequent pubs like this?" You asked him and he simply shrugged, "A bit of a pass time. I see you've caught up with some of the slang, what do you get up to?" The conversation stayed like this, shooting questions back at each other, "When I ain't busy, I stick to my own. Foreign place and I'm not trying to get in no rubble." Occasionally flirting, "You're looking dench, ya always dress that sharp or is it just for me?" You ask and he compliments you right back. "Got pretty nice garms yourself. If you want it to be just for you, go ahead." He said, not shooting down your advances either.

With a drink or two, low in alcohol, for the both of you he offered to take this night out on the town with him as an escort. Both of you leaning against the bar and looking out at the sea of people he leaned down next to you and said, "Like a suitcase in here. Should head on out if we want the privacy." Something about that didn't sound like a terrible idea, so you agreed and let him hitch a ride in your car. Sharing playlists together on the ride back to your place, since he didn't really mind where he woke up and unbeknownst to you he was looking out for your comfortability and safety.

That was your first night in the UK you didn't spend alone. Yeah you had made some friends over here and sometimes there were sleepovers that consisted of binging shows, doing each other's hair or makeup. Some indoors and sometimes outdoors fun, but this was vastly different. His fine, lanky ass was waltzing through your apartment like he owned the place before plopping down dead center on the couch. Man spreading and arms outstretched on the back of the couch.

"What?" Hobie simply asked when he caught you staring. It wasn't like he minded it, infact he thought it was cute and it gave him time to stare when those pretty brown eyes focused somewhere else. It felt like you were tracing the outline of his body, sketching down the details instead of stripping him bare. " 's rude to stare, leng." He said, propping his hands behind his head and putting his boots on the coffee table, closing his eyes for a second before catching your gaze to see you try and hold back a smile as you rolled your eyes and shook your head. "You're bare brown, a damn mess." The way she mixed his slang and hers was cute too, 'We should mix like that...' he thought but shook it off as he picked up the remote to put something on the TV. Meanwhile in your room you decided to go ahead and unwind because, you're back home, it's late, and you'll be damned if you don't wash your face and get into something comfortable.

Hearing your footsteps he didn't even turn his head to address you at first, "Almost thought you'd leave me he-" He was cut off by a huge bonnet smacking him in the face. "Dumbass, it's my flat and if you spending the night; like i expect you to," you said muttering that one bit of expectations, "then put that on, no need to fuck up those nice locs when we skin folk." He obliged and felt you settle in beside him. It couldn't have been the drinks, so it had to be genuine, because looking at you in your bonnet and a huge sleep shirt was enough to make his heart skip a beat. She was definitely still leng without the makeup, fancy dress or accessories. "A bit rude to stare, innit?" and that beautiful voice.

Since that night you two have had smoke and jam seshes, movie nights, youtube, and streaming binges. You had gotten his number and address and would swing by anytime you could if he couldn't because you were 'neighbors'. Some nights he'd stay and spend some of the morning with you, and vice versa. Other times he had other things to do and so did you, or was it being petty? You weren't sure and couldn't quite understand it either. Though thinking on the nights before, as the sun rose, whenever you got in the shower or took a bath it felt like washing off glitter. Cleaning off the sparkle and shine his very presence filled you with, it was like any other mundane task and life returned to normal, until he came along again. Nights of watching some thing and laying your head on his shoulder, laying down in his lap, being held in his arms. Flopping down on your bed you let out the biggest sigh. If you loved him, it would be too much to handle. He couldn't feel the same way back, he's just really comfortable with you, right?

Tonight was just like any other night but the days before weren't. Each morning or late-night goodbye was reconciling with the thought of something more. Hobie couldn't get you out of his mind and every time you hung out he couldn't stop overthinking exactly what you thought of him. If it wasn't that it was focusing on you. How your soft brown skin felt against him, how you looked up at him, your lips either glossed over or baren, the shape of your body, the way you got more and more comfortable with him. Your head on his shoulder and watching the TV as you both commentated over a show you've seen more than once now. "Hobie?" your voice pulled him out of the trance you had always put him in, though the thoughts of fucking you didn't stop and they were just stronger now with you being so close. "You wanna take a hit or nah?" He could only nod and took the blunt from you, 'I am... way too horny to talk to this woman right now...' This was definitely true but from your perspective, it seemed like any other day, until you went to lay your head on his lap, and in an instant you were sitting on his lap.

You could feel just how hard he was through his sweatpants and now you were both just staring at each other. Brown eyes locked in a staring contest, waiting for a first move while drowning in each other's gaze. His hands slide up and down your sides and settle at your hips and you feel a shiver down your spine. "H...hobs," your voice was like a whisper as he got closer to you, "Yeah?" He broke his stare by looking at your slightly parted lips, and without another word, he kissed you. His kiss trails from your lips to your neck as he makes a low groan from you rocking your hips and wiggling ever so slightly. His hips slightly buck upwards as a whine leaks out from his lips, while he nuzzles your neck and whispers, "This has been on my mind, all day." Both of your grinding stops for a moment as your hands go to cup his face and force him to look at you directly. "Hobie, if you feel the way that I feel... then I trust you." With those words, he felt instant encouragement and a softness in his heart. He kissed you once more, just as passionately but it felt more intimate instead of heated.

Squeezing your hips and caressing your thighs brought the both of you back to your previous activities, and you continued to rub upon his grey sweatpants that had started this mess. Breaking the kiss once more, you rest your forehead on his shoulder and moan out to him. "Hobie, please... more." His hands were playing with the waistband of your shorts and hearing your plea he pulled them down, along with your panties, with your help. Now, straddling him you go to pull at his sweatpants, "Closed mouths don't get fed, if you want me to join ya just say so." He teased and you rolled your eyes, getting up off of him and then getting on your knees as you pulled off his sweatpants. His cock sprung out and you licked your lips, he could've sworn his heart skipped a beat. Stroking him and kissing up and down his shaft, maintaining eye contact you tease him back, "Hm? What is it Hobie, did you want more." You say before licking slowly from the base and up to his tip, feeling his hips shudder and another whine escape his lips. He didn't need to ask, feeling your mouth take him in before he could say anything. His hands gripping the couch cushion he was sitting on as you sucked him off, stopping for a moment and taking one of his hands and placing it on your twists. "You can touch, like I said I trust you." Feeling the long twists in his hands and stroking your head he smiled, "Thank you." Taking his length back into your mouth you hummed in approval, continuing where you left off.

Just as he was about to cum you stopped and he let out a laugh and groan, "What now baby?" Hearing that pet name made your heart soar as you stood up and sat on his lap again, taking off your shirt and bra, back pressed to his chest as you rested your head on his shoulder again. "You're either gonna fuck me hard or reciprocate, Id like both though." Your breath against his ear gave him goosebumps, and he swallowed hard. His hard-on slightly twitched from your words and you slid your slit up and down his shaft, the slick spreading across him.

Without saying a word he started to rub circles into your clit, the right amount of pressure that made you hips chase his hand while still grinding on him. His other hand made it's way to one of your tits as he kissed and licked at you neck. Your moans filled the room and after enough foreplay you guided him into your hole and started to ride him. Hips rolling back and forth as he thrusted upwards and kept you steady on him by holding your hips.

In the moment you turn to look at him and his gaze was focused on where you swallowed him whole, he looked as entranced as any other time you caught him just looking at you. You whisper in his ear, "You fit so good inside, filling me up just rig-ht!" Your voice becomes a slight screm of surprise as he turns you around and picks you up, standing, with him still inside. Feeling you clench around him he chuckles and you drop your head on his shoulder. "Aw, you were close huh?" He coos to you as he moves to your bedroom and lays you down on the bed. When he slides himself out you can't help but let out the most desperate whine, but it's then replaced with some silence as you feel him lift your legs. Knees pressed to you shoulders,"Don't worry, gonna fill you right up again." Your heart beat quickens and your skin feels so hot that only standing in a freezer could cool you down, after hearing those words against your ear. He slams himself back in and sit for a second drinkng in your loud scream and you falling apart on his cock. He then rode you through the mid point of your orgasm, riling you up all over again.

You woke up the next morning with him by your side, your limbs tangled with eachother. Neither of you left eachother that morning and when he had to go he kissed your forehead. The next week that followed was radio silence on both ends and from that night you couldn't deny it anymore. It was more than just the sex, it was his prescene alone in any context that put you on cloud nine. A feeling like this was few and far inbetween and you couldn't resist when he offered to hang out again, this time at his house boat.

Laying side by side on his mattress, looking at the stars through the sun roof, you didn't cuddle up to him like you usually did. "What's wrong?" He simply asked and you looked over to find his gaze lazer focused on you. "You love me right?" Is all you could manage, word vomit, a ridiculous question but he didn't think of it as such. Pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arms around you and stroked your hair, still in those long and pretty twists. "Of course I do, and I promise I ain't going no where."

[polkadotsocks1993]

What Good Neighbors Do, Pt. 3.

Finals week for you means a celebration with your friends. However, once trouble occurs, the line of friendship with Osferth becomes blurred.

Warnings: violence, attempted assault, light smut

Notes: this story is brought to you by too much homemade wine and a winter storm 💀

thank you so much for your response to the first two, if you haven't read them, they're on my page!

Also, I write about the experiences of graduate school because I have experienced graduate school. I am trying to write Osferth and the Gang as OC as I can within modern parameters. Thank you guys for being understanding and supportive, I haven't written fic since 2016 so you guys are amazing.

It was the end of your first semester abroad.

Truthfully, it had been a rough school year for you. You had papers to grade as a teaching assistant, on top of final papers and your own work you needed to turn in. You'd elected to take a full load, thinking it would be no different than your undergraduate work. How wrong you had been.

The last two weeks had been nothing but grading, studying, more grading, and occasionally, sleep. Osferth had come over several times to find you slumped over a pile of term papers about Medieval England, none of which you'd graded yet. You were exhausted, to put it lightly, and you'd barely managed to look out for yourself.

"When does your term end?" Osferth asked, practically shoving a cup of coffee your way.

"In two days." You said, trying to remember what finals you had left. You only had three classes, but the history department had been understaffed and so you'd wound up teaching three classes. To say you were overwhelmed was an understatement.

"Then we're going out this weekend, after you get some sleep." Osferth said, "You need to have some fun."

"I won't say no." You replied, eyes already droopy from fatigue.

"Good. Finan already organized your first proper pub crawl." Osferth said, "I hope you're ready."

"No, I hope you're ready." You laughed, "I'm not a heavy drinker, so you'd better be prepared."

Osferth laughed tussling your hair like he always did before leaning down to whisper in your ear. "I'm looking forward to it, love."

As the term had progressed, you and Osferth's relationship had gotten even more tricky. You'd gone as his plus one to his half brother Edward's wedding; you'd met his sister and niece (who were actually nice and adored him), but also met his awful stepmother and after one too many shots of whiskey (thank goodness for open bars), you'd told her exactly what you'd thought. Then, you'd promptly gotten sick in the parking lot on the way to Osferth's car. You'd spent the rest of the night profusely apologizing in the chip shop Osferth had taken you to, only for Osferth to shrug and tell you, "I dunno, no one has ever stood up to Aelswith on my behalf, I might like to see it again."

The next two days were a blur for you; you had to be present for two finals (since you were the instructor) and you had to take two finals. You'd extended every last ounce of energy you had into trying to get decent grades, and barely made it on to the bus home. After tossing your keys on the table and taking a drink of water, you heard a knock on your door. Rubbing your eyes, you opened the door to see Osferth, holding a small bouquet of flowers and waving innocently.

"Your first semester done! How does it feel?" He asked. You blinked hard, trying to ignore the pounding in your head. You kicked off your shoes and took off your jacket.

"I'm tired. Get in here. I can't be held responsible for anything I do in the next few hours." You said, trying to get comfortable.

Osferth looked at you, raising an eyebrow, while you took off your socks and hoodie, tossing them on the sofa. Osferth made his way to your kitchen for a jar to put the flowers in.

"By the way," You said, theatrically rolling your wrist, "the flowers are appreciated. Thank you."

No matter how comfortable Osferth was with you, he was still painfully shy at times. He was confident, when he needed to be, but you could tell that his confidence faltered when dealing with you.

You took a step closer to him, observing his features. He was still in his paramedic uniform. For the last month, he had worked nights, and you could tell he hadn't slept yet, either.

"You haven't gone to bed yet, Osferth." You observed.

"I wanted to wait till you were home." He replied.

You squinted; you knew he was likely just as tired as you, and that he often put others' comfort before his own. You yanked him by the wrist, and drug him to your room.

"Where are we going?" Osferth asked.

"You're going to sleep with me." You answered.

"In your room?"

"Yes. In my room." You said, turning on the light and pulling back your covers.

"Um, I can just go back to my place, it's no bother." Osferth said.

"Absolutely not. You waited till I got home, you should have been asleep two hours ago." You scolded.

"I know, but I really wanted you to have something to look forward to today." Osferth explained. You hated his expression; he looked like a sad puppy and it was as endearing as it was frustrating.

"I am looking forward to something. I'm looking forward to a nice, long nap. And you're going to get one, too." You said. Osferth shifted around nervously, but didn't put up too much of an argument, his eyes giving away his exhaustion.

You took off your jeans and folded them on the end of your bed. Osferth's eyes widened, but he did the same. He had already changed his shirt before coming over, so he left everything on the floor next to your jeans. You snuggled in, under the covers, patting your hand on the mattress for him to join you. He climbed in and you scooted close to him, laying your head on his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Osferth." You whispered.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He replied.

Within minutes, both of you were asleep, and slept for hours. Neither one of you even moved much, until you finally awoke much later in the afternoon. Osferth didn't have to be at work that night, so the two of you enjoyed a little bit of freedom and swapped stories while you ate takeaway, the show Parks and Recreation coming from the TV.

"Wait, so Uhtred was the first person you had to do a field IV on?" You asked, trying hard not to spill your wine.

Osferth laughed, taking another bite of food. "Yes. He was so sick, I could barely find a vein, and here I am, some kid they'd thrown in there, and I had no idea what I was doing. Somehow managed to get the needle in, but that doesn't mean it was easy."

"I still can't believe Finan tries to ask you for IVs whenever he drinks too much." You said.

"Finan will ask for one this weekend. Sihtric will, too. Uhtred might, but honestly he handles alcohol better than all of us." Osferth replied.

"So, what's so special about this pub crawl Finan planned?" You asked.

"Finan plans pub crawls the way a bride plans a wedding." Osferth answered, "They're spectacular, honestly."

"I'm blaming you for the hangover I'll incur, then." You said, scooting closer ever so slightly.

Osferth's breath hitched, his smile faltering ever so slightly, before he leaned in close. Your spine straightened as you felt Osferth's lips near your ear.

"I quite like seeing you drunk."

You blinked, turning to him in surprise. "And why is that?" You asked.

"Because you're fiery, and I happen to like that in you." Osferth whispered. Your hair stood on your neck, and you leaned forward slightly, getting close enough to feel his body heat. You ran a hand up his thigh, feeling his gaze burn as your eyes met his.

"Well, then, I guess Friday is going to be fun."

Osferth grinned, pushing your hair behind your ear. "I look forward to it."

--------

That night, after he left, you laid on your bed, venting to your dog, Brownie, out of frustration.

"He didn't even kiss me, Brownie!" You huffed.

"Does he like me? Really? I am so confused."

Brownie just blinked; you wished you could talk to someone, since Osferth was the most confusing man you knew. He flirted with you, he did nice things for you, but he didn't seem to care to do anything more than that.

You grumbled. Your feelings were only getting more confusing, and you knew that it was bound to get worse. He was your best friend, but you wanted more. The question was: did he?

--------

As it turned out, Osferth's description of Finan's pub crawl plans was, in fact, pretty spot on. What the the boys were not prepared for, however, was how well you could keep up with them, despite never having done a pub crawl before.

"In honor of passing my finals, here is a round of shots, on me."

You handed the four men a shot of whiskey, and threw it back, the burn hitting your throat and you cheered.

"Look at you go!" Uhtred said, "You can keep up after all."

"Sometimes I can." You laughed. Finan had organized an "American Pub Crawl", in which the rules were that the only drinks that could be ordered were American. So far, you were on your third bar of the evening, and you'd taken the opportunity to buy a round of Jack Daniel's for everyone.

"Hey, Y/N, that man in the corner has been eyeing you all evening." Sihtric said, "He was at the last pub, too."

You'd noticed the man too, and you didn't necessarily like the idea. His eyes had been locked on you all evening, and it had made you stay close to Osferth.

"I hope he doesn't think he can follow me all night." You muttered, taking a sip of the beer you'd ordered.

"I've picked him up before, on shift. He likes to throw punches after one too many." Osferth said, taking a sip of his own beer. His arm had found a place around your shoulder and you gladly accepted it. You didn't like the way that man looked at you.

"Maybe he'll take the hint." You replied.

"If he doesn't, I'm sure we can persuade him." Uhtred said, "If he likes to fight, we can do that too."

"Wouldn't be a proper pub crawl without it!" Finan exclaimed.

Finishing your drinks, you went to the next pub, this time ordering whiskey and bringing out pickle juice to take pickle back shots.

Unfortunately, the man had followed and he was eyeing you still.

You tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling in your gut; you didn't want this man to ruin your night with your friends. Besides, you were resting your head on Osferth's shoulder, and he was flirting with you, and you didn't want to ruin that.

By the next bar, however, you'd shoved the nervous feeling down as you all drank Old Fashioneds, feeling a bit woozy as you stood up.

You placed a hand on Osferth's shoulder and leaned down. "I'm gonna go to the restroom. Watch my purse until I get back?"

"Sure, we'll be right here." Osferth said, giving you a smile. You walked back to the restroom and went in, trying to get out before anyone else noticed you were gone. You fixed you hair and adjusted your skirt, and walked out the door, only to bump into someone.

Your stomach dropped; it was the man who had been following you.

"I've been waiting to get you alone all night." He said. You could smell the liquor on him, he was incredibly drunk.

"Well, I'm going back to my friends." You said curtly, walking back toward the direction of your table. The man stopped you, and walked you backwards, your back hitting the wall.

"Where ya from, miss? I like that accent of yours." He said caging you in.

You looked around, suddenly feeling completely sober as the man entered your bubble.

"A place where we don't take kindly to unwanted attention." You replied.

The man growled, getting closer.

"Leave me alone, please." You pleaded.

"I don't think I'm going to do that. I've been watching you for hours now." The man replied. He stuck a hand on your torso, and began trying to move it up your shirt.

"Get OFF of me!" You yelled. You slapped the man in the face, and he in turn slapped you back so hard your head hit the wall, and you saw stars. You tasted blood on your lip, and it only made rage bubble in your chest.

"Get the HELL AWAY FROM ME!" You screamed. The man lurched forward, grabbing you by the hair, and slammed your head back into the wall, pressing his body to yours. You kicked and began screaming, until you heard someone yelling from behind the man.

"GET OFF!" Screamed Osferth, grabbing the man by the shoulders and throwing him into the floor. The man stood up, taking a swing, and connecting with Osferth's face. That's when Sihtric and Uhtred grabbed the man, while Finan got Osferth to his feet.

The look on Osferth's face was one you'd only seen a handful of times before, from other people. He was seething.

Osferth swung again, knocking the man to the floor, and he began swinging. Blood was pouring from his nose, but he seemed completely oblivious to the pain.

"YOU. DO. NOT. TOUCH. HER." Every word was punctuated with a punch, until Uhtred finally pulled him off.

"Osferth, your nose is broken." Uhtred said. Osferth was still in a trance, and you were shaking and crying. Finan had moved over to check on you, tears spilling from your eyes as he grabbed your face.

"Hey, hey, look at me, Y/N. Look at me." He whispered. "You're okay now. Osferth took care of him, he isn't getting back up for a while."

Osferth stopped wriggling in Uhtred's grasp and turned to you, assessing the damage like he would any accident at work.

"What did he do? Where did he touch you?" He asked.

You were sobbing. Coughing and choking while the other three men stood behind Osferth, blocking anyone else from coming near.

"He--I was coming out and he pushed me back." You cried, "he tried to stick his hand under my shirt and I told him to leave me alone. Then he hit me and he slammed my head into the wall."

This time, Sihtric walked over and kicked the man in the stomach. Osferth took a pen light from his pocket and looked at your eyes.

"You have a concussion." He said, "But not a bad one."

"Osferth, your nose." You said.

"I don't care. This isn't the worst I've had. Come here." He said, pulling you into his chest. You sobbed into him, your whole body shaking.

"Osferth, you get her out of here. We'll deal with him. You two need to go to A & E and get checked out. Especially you." Finan said.

"He'll learn his lesson. We promise you that." Uhtred said, "Take her home. We'll go check on you later."

Osferth took your hand and guided you out near the main entrance, taking your purse from behind the bar. Your hands shook ferociously, your lip was already swollen. Outside of the bar, you waited for a cab, but you couldn't keep your knees from knocking together.

"I'm so, so sorry, Y/N. That shouldn't have happened." Osferth said, rubbing your back. You had to sit down; your vision was starting to go black and you felt like the walls were closing in.

"I want to go home." You cried.

"We're going home, love." Osferth replied.

"No, Osferth," Your voice was breaking now, "I want my mom."

Osferth picked you up, pulling you close to him and holding you as tightly as he could. "I'll call your mum, Y/N. It's going to be okay. Take a deep breath, he can't hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you."

As the cab pulled up, Osferth put you gently inside. The cab driver obviously had questions, but all Osferth did was give him your address. You were thankful; you didn't want to go to A & E, you just wanted to go home.

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

You had a first aid kit in your bathroom, it was the one thing you'd always done since you grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere. You sat Osferth down on the edge of the bathtub and began to clean him up, taking off his shirt and wiping the blood off of his chest, his neck, and his face.

"You said that wasn't the worst you had, huh?" You asked. He chuckled lightly, pointing to a spot just below his ribs.

"Almost died from this one." He said, "took a knife to the lung. If I hadn't already been in a medic tent, I would have died."

"When was that?" You asked, tracing your fingers along the scar.

"My last deployment. I was assessing a civilian they brought in, and he stabbed me." Osferth said, "I got out after that."

"And what about this one, here?" You asked, pointing to the scar on his shoulder.

"This was another bar fight, believe it or not." Osferth laughed. His eyes were already bruising and a little swollen, so you'd brought a pack of frozen vegetables to put on his face.

"He should have never touched you." Osferth said.

"I'm just glad you were there." You replied.

Osferth put his hands on your hips, placing his forehead in your stomach. You felt your heart thump so loudly that you were afraid it'd burst.

"I'll always be there." Osferth said. You felt his fingers tighten around your hip bones and you couldn't take it any more.

"Osferth." You said, he looked up at you.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I--I don't want to be your friend." You replied. His entire face fell, and you stumbled to correct yourself.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was, I can't just be your friend." You said, "I thought I could, but I think I've loved you since the day you unlocked my door, and seeing you like this, I can't... I can't just be your friend--"

You were cut off by Osferth's lips hitting yours. His hands tangled in your hair, his touch soft but wanting. You put your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, a moan escaping as he moved to kiss your neck.

"I can't do this anymore either." Osferth said, "I thought I could. I thought I could just be your friend, but I can't. I love you. I've loved you for a long time."

You took his face in your hands, placing a gentle kiss, then moved to loop your fingers in his jeans and pull him out of the bedroom. His hands roamed your back, your neck, your hips, taking care not to do anything too suddenly or without permission. You pulled him to your room, kicking off your shoes and taking off your tights, pulling him on to the bed with you.

He climbed in, laying next to you, cradling your head in his hand, his other hand trailing your waist. You sighed, smiling, and ran your fingers through his hair.

"Stay the night." You said. It was a plea, a wish.

"I'll do whatever you ask." He whispered.

He took off his jeans, and your eyes grew wide.

"I'm not expecting anything, they've just got blood on them." He said. You nodded, and then a rush of thoughts came flooding to your mind.

"Osferth?" You asked.

"Yes, love?" He said.

"I've... I've never done this before." You admitted. He furrowed his brows.

"Done what?" He asked.

"What we're doing. Or what we're about to do. I don't know how to explain it." You huffed. He stopped, understanding what you were trying to say, and then nodded.

"You know that's not what I'm after, right?" Osferth asked.

You kissed him, moaning as he moved a hand up your side.

"I know, but I need you to know. I spilled my guts, I needed to tell you in case you wanted an out." You said.

"No." Osferth said, taking your hand in his. Yours was comically small compared to his, and he kissed your forehead.

"I don't want an out. I've been thinking about you since you knocked on my door. I knew I loved you for sure at Edward's wedding. I love how your face lights up when you talk about what you're passionate about. I love how kind you are. I hated history, but when you tell it, I could listen for hours. I don't want a quick lay. If I wanted that I could go into town and get it. I want you, Y/N. Only you."

Your breath hitched, and you looked at Osferth. You were nervous, and you didn't exactly know the right words to say.

"What does this make us?" You asked.

"Whatever you want us to be, but I know I'd like for us to be together." Osferth answered.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I want that, too."

Osferth laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He laid his head back down on the pillow, sighing.

"I'm actually glad you said something, because my nose does hurt a bit now." He admitted. You couldn't help but laugh as you pressed kisses to his temple.

"Then maybe we should sleep? After you've taken something for the pain." You suggested.

"That actually sounds nice." Osferth said, "We have plenty of time. I intend on sticking around, if that's alright with you."

"I'd like that, very much." You said.

That night you fell asleep with your head on his chest, his arm around you. Though both of you wound up with bruises for days, neither of you would have changed the events of that evening. And though your relationship had now evolved into something more, you were elated and excited.

With Osferth, you looked forward to many things. And you couldn't wait to explore.

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

I will obviously be writing more parts, I'm obsessed with this story and I cannot put it down.

Also, the reason there wasn't full on smut is because I have NEVER written it before, so please bare with me as the next chapter will probably be lots of filth 🤣 thank you all for the feedback!

[mumms-the-word]

Could I see 2 and 3 of your wedding prompt? Of either or both of the general or specific moments.💕❤️🎉💐

I don't have the time to write out full scenes this week alas but I can give you some headcanons/glimpses!

2 & 3 from the details list:

Proposal

Gale proposed to Dani, obviously! I've dabbled with the idea that maybe they had a different proposal than the one shown in the game, but I find that it works really well for them. I like the idea of them waking up the next morning after saving the city, and he says those lines, "I understand your purpose lies here, but I fear if I return to Waterdeep alone, my heart would remain here with you. And so, if you're at all amenable to the idea, I thought I could, perhaps, stay. There might even be room for two Dekarioses in Baldur's Gate?"

I love that it's a little informal, that he doesn't have a ring to give her, that all he's asking is that maybe there could be the two of them, two Dekarioses, a new clan of Dekarioses there in Baldur's Gate. Dani doesn't need all the bells and whistles, she just wants family all around her. So a sweet, informal proposal in the middle of an Elfsong Tavern room, well, it suits her just fine.

Bachelor/Bachelorette parties?

Dani absolutely has a hen do/bachelorette because her foster sister, Liara, positively insists. But it's less of a hen do and more like a party for Dani, her mom, and her Merry Rovers to celebrate together before she officially gets married, so it's not girls-only or anything. Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Astarion, and even Jahiera join for parts of it, and Dani desperately wishes Karlach and Wyll could be there, but otherwise it's a fun night of drinking, games, stories, and music for Dani and her bard family.

Gale gets a somewhat less chaotic stag do, which he probably prefers. If Wyll were around, Gale would have had a much wilder time (you know Wyll would be dragging Gale out for a traditional pub crawl like any former bachelor's best friend would do), but since he's not he simply goes out for some drinks, planning on a relatively quiet night...until Shadowheart and Astarion find him and drag him over to join the Merry Rovers and Dani, officially turning their separate stag/hen dos into a mutual "celebrating our last days that we're not married" kind of event. Fun for all!

~*~*~*~*~*~

2 & 3 from the specific moments list:

Getting Ready

Gale gets ready with the help of Morena, Tara, and running commentary from Astarion (who does deign to fix an errant thread on his coat but is otherwise just there sit, chat, and judge). It's relatively uneventful, aside from some teary-eyed moments from Morena and some gentle nagging from Tara about how he should have shaved his beard for his special day. Dani sends over a white embroidered sash for him to wear around his waist, an important addition to his outfit that comes back into play later in the ceremony/reception.

Dani gets ready with her mother, her best friend/adopted sister Liara, and Shadowheart. She really wishes Karlach could have been there, but Karlach is in Avernus. Lae'zel is traveling in from somewhere on the Sword Coast, so she arrives later. There's a special moment as Dani is getting ready where Liara brings in the other Merry Rovers, who each give Dani a sash for her to wear with her dress (a bardic custom I came up with for them). Gale also sends over a little gift, one gold hoop earring for her to wear (he's wearing the other one, replacing the Mystra earring). The little box with the earring also contains a sweet poem and a little note saying he can't wait to see her.

The First Look

I really ought to write this scene because it's exactly the kind of romantic fluff that I'm a sucker for. Maybe I'll do it later!

But for now, Gale and Dani have their first look at each other before their ceremony. They get married in a park so it's a little hard to avoid each other entirely while going from some park-side building to the actual place where everything is set up. So Morena and Maeva (Dani's mother) arrange for them to see each other privately in a little corner of the gardens, just before everyone sets off to go start the ceremony.

Gale tears up immediately, of course, and Dani teases him about it, even though she's also getting a little emotional. She helps keep him smiling by talking about how hot he looks in his wedding outfit and how she can't wait until she gets to take all of it off tonight, you know, the usual flirting. And then after a second, after they're both dry-eyed and calm, she looks up at him and asks, "There's still time to change your mind, you know."

His response is a loving smile and a gentle touch on her cheek. "I'm not going to change my mind. Even if I could go back in time and make entirely new decisions, I'd do everything exactly the same so that I can be here, getting to marry you."

(He'd say it more elegantly than that but you get it)

And Dani would smile, at first touched and emotional by his words, and then her smile would turn teasing again. "Sure, but there's still time to cut our losses and elope, too. We could grab Withers and run."

He just laughs and says, "Not a chance. My mother would kill me."

[rorywritesjunk]

(set in the au with Buggy's older sister, takes place after the little ficlets of the 24 hours since the execution. I'm also decompressing from the last few days at work and needed some fluff for these two.)

pt 1 + pt 2 + pt 3 + pt 4 + pt 5 + pt 6 + pt 7 + pt 8 + pt 9 + pt 10 + pt 11 + pt 12 + pt 13 + pt 13.5 + pt 14 + pt 15

pt 1

"Wait, we're stopping where so you can meet with who exactly?" Buggy demands from the captain after he was just told what was going on. The older man laughed, clapping Buggy on the shoulder. He shrugged the hand off with a glare. He was only on this crew until he earned enough to get his own. No one needed to touch him.

"I have to see Miss Pins about my pants. They aren't fitting the way I'd like them to." The old man told him with a chuckle. "We're stopping for a week. The island is a pirate safe haven so you don't need to be scared, young man!"

"I'm not scared!" Buggy shot back, but he was a little nervous. Sunny worked for Miss Pins, or at least she did when they met and she took care of him. If he goes with the captain to the shop, will she be there? Will she even remember him or were those just kind words she was saying to him with no meaning behind it? He didn't know if he wanted to see her. He wasn't a well known and flashy pirate yet, he was just a crew member.

"You can come along if you'd like, Buggy!"

Buggy didn't know if he wanted to, but he nodded, clenching his fists, suddenly feeling anxious about seeing Sunny again. It had only been a few months but he still thought of her regularly, of her kindness to him when he was a mess of emotions after losing the important people in his life all in one day.

And she didn't ask for anything in return from him.

~

It took a few days to arrive. The crew was happy to get off the ship and stretch their legs for a week. Buggy was waiting for the captain to take him to the shop. He had taken the time to wash his face, brush his teeth, and brush his hair before throwing it back into a pony tail. He wanted to look good for Sunny, to show he could take care of himself and he was doing better.

The captain finally came out of his quarters, the pants he needed fixing draped over his arm. He beckoned Buggy to follow him and the teenager did, walking alongside the captain as he pointed out shops, pubs, and other things to Buggy should he need anything while they were there.

Once they arrived at the shop, Buggy took a moment to look at it. There were flowers in the window boxes, the front was painted a light purple color, and it just... Didn't really fit into what he expected in a place known for a pirate safe haven. He felt this shop would do better in a town where people had money and wanted to see cutesy things.

That feeling vanished the moment his Captain opened the door and someone came barreling out. A bullet followed after the pirate, piercing through the top of his hat as he screamed he was sorry as he ran.

"Ah, yes, don't make her mad. She has good aim." Was his captain's warning to Buggy as they stepped into the shop.

There was an older woman standing in the middle of the shop with a shotgun with two young women sitting at a table sewing while another stood behind her.

"Damn pirates, thinking this is a brothel." The old woman muttered as she went to put the gun away. "Next time I'll shoot him in the ass." She looked up at Buggy and the captain, giving them both a look over. "What can I do for you?"

"Miss Pins, I was hoping-"

"Buggy?!" The girl who had been behind Miss Pins rushed forward suddenly, throwing her arms around Buggy. "It's you! You're here!"

He couldn't believe he didn't recognize her at first. Buggy's torso and arms detached from the impact from her hug before snapping back together and wrapping his arms around her. She was very touchy, had her hands on him frequently when they first met, checking in with him and making sure he was okay. It... Was a little weird at first but Buggy found he didn't mind it from her.

Now he had her in his arms. She was hugging him like they were lifelong friends and it had been ages since they last saw each other.

When she pulled back, smiling brightly at him, she glanced over at her boss as she took Buggy's hand in hers. "I'm going to take my break, Miss Pins!"

Her boss looked at Buggy, reaching for her gun once more. "If you must."

Remembering what he just saw moments ago, Buggy was fine with Sunny dragging him out of the shop and into the sunshine. He didn't quite know what to expect but honestly, he was just happy to see her again.

[annaphoenix1994]

Triangle Betrayal

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

Simon watched Kiera carefully as she focused on the task at hand. She stayed in her vehicle, focusing on her laptop as she looked at the photo of Isaac's license plate on his phone, her eyes darting back and forth, her jaw dropping slightly before immediately reaching for her phone to call Laswell, sitting back in the driver's seat as she took a selfish drag from her vape pen. "What is it?" Simon asked. 

"This is all a big triangle," She sighed. "Now I know why Isaac didn't tell me his last name when he came up to the ranch yesterday." 

"Why?" 

She looked at him, turning the laptop around for him to see for himself, "His last name is Graves." 

Bloody fucking hell, he grimaced as she faced the laptop back towards her, putting the address on file into her GPS. "He lives only thirty minutes from we're at right now. I'm going to drive by and get a layout of the place. I'm willing to bet that we can find both Shepherd and Malcolm there." 

"Considering they're both wanted men, I doubt they're in the same place." 

"I'm going to correct you on something: they're both stupid men. They're probably holding each other's dicks while they pee." 

He chuckled, loving her foul mouth just as much as he enjoyed the feeling of it on him - both lovingly and intimately. "You're probably right." 

Kiera dialed Laswell's number, putting it on speaker before it rang four times, Laswell answering with haste. "Kiera. Manage to scramble anything?" 

"I think so. Does the name Isaac Graves mean anything to you?" 

She sighed, "Partially. If it's the same person we're thinking of." 

"Well, I can't see much background on him from my computer, so I'll give you his name and license plate number. His driver's license states he's a resident of Arlington, Virginia, but the address is invalid since his plates are in Wyoming. The Wyoming tag pulled up a completely different address, so me and Simon are going to drive by and see what we're working with." 

"I'll get to working on it now. I'll call you back once I find something." 

"Thanks." 

'Starting route to 555 Wyoming Pike Drive' her GPS alerted her after she had started the route, excitement coursing through her veins as she had finally seemed to pick up a trail to Fernando's kidnappers. "We'll go get supper after this, okay?" 

"Supper?" He chuckled, the phrase being foreign to him. 

"Right. I keep forgetting you're British. It means dinner, babe." She poked. 

"Keep poking at me. You still haven't been to my 'neck of the woods' yet." He arched his brow, using a familiar phrase he had heard her say a few times, desperately trying to mimic a nearly southern accent, but he failed. 

Instead, they both laughed at his attempt. 

"Oh, I'm eager to let my freak flag fly over there. Are there any good bars?" 

"Pubs - yes," He corrected. "I don't trust you in a bar - nothing ever good happens with you and that word in the mix. Though, you're going to have a hell of a time over there and I'm sure my sides will be hurting after laughing at you trying to pronounce words with your cornbread accent." 

She scoffed, "Cornbread? What?" 

"That's what Teeter said she had. You two sound almost the same." He poked. 

"Bullshit. Teeter speaks gibberish! I speak English!" 

"Your English and my English are two completely different things, love. I don't know what you're going to do without Dr. Pepper over there." He smirked. 

"You're lying. You can get Dr. Pepper anywhere-"

"Sure about that? There's no sweet tea - garbage. Might as well drink sugar water. Scones for breakfast and tea. You'll be living like a posh lady for two weeks." He teased, knowing the word "posh" was not in her vocabulary. 

"What the fuck is that?" She grimaced, making him laugh. God, I can't fucking wait to get her over there, he thought, amazed that he was looking forward to something recently. 

"You'll see." 

She smiled, shaking her head as she continued to drive following her GPS's directions, the drive being roughly forty minutes from their current location before her phone rang again. "Yeah?" 

"Here's what I found. Isaac was Shepherd's right-hand man in the D.C. office - I've confirmed that. He fled when Shepherd did. He managed to get a car from a drug cartel member, running on stolen plates between various checkpoints-" 

"So is the car he's driving now stolen, too?" 

"No, it was purchased without a loan from a dealership in Montana. When I kept digging, I found out that Shepherd threatened to set him up if he didn't help him flee. And Kiera, Isaac was responsible for the explosive launched at you in Chicago." 

Simon shivered. 

"W-What? How did you find that out?"

"Phone records. He and Shepherd talked on the phone a lot between these last few missions you were on. You were their target the whole time, I'm afraid. He got wind that you were going to Mexico to investigate Graves."

Kiera scoffed, her hands gripping the steering wheel before Laswell continued. "And...," Laswell sighed. "He's Commander Graves' brother, Kiera. What he's doing is personal, now." 

Both Simon and Kiera looked at each other in shock, Simon watching her take a long drag from her comforting tube of nicotine as it was visible that she was under immense pressure. "Between him, Shepherd, and Malcolm, they all have blackmail on each other. Each of them ping-ponging between threats of exposing the other in exchange for freedom." 

She chuckled, "That won't last long." 

"You have full authority, Kiera. I can issue the warrant." 

"Please do. Issue it for all of them. I'll talk to the Sheriff here and have him issue me one, too. I'm going to do this my way, especially considering Fernando is at stake." 

"I'll forward them to state authorities at the local office. You'll be able to pick them up before five." 

"I'll get them on my way home. I'm going to drive to the address I found for Isaac and I'm going to make my move by tomorrow." 

"Be wise about this, Kiera. With these three at each other's throats to take you out, they're going to do everything they can to ensure their mission is complete." 

"I have a plan already. I'm going to take them out. One by fucking one. And I'm starting with Isaac. With some... persuasion, he'll lead me to Malcolm and once I get him, I'll get Shepherd." 

"We're all standing by you. Keep me updated."

»»-------¤-------««

'In three quarters of a mile, the destination is on your right.' The GPS sounded, spiking Kiera's attention as she pressed on the brake pedal, slowing down to see two patrol vehicles sitting at the gate of Isaac's home. "What the fuck?" She scoffed to herself, recognizing them to be Richards' deputies. 

"Can I help you?" The deputy questioned, walking up to the truck as she rolled down her window, presenting her badge just in case the decals on the truck wasn't enough to prove that she was an agent. 

"Why'd Richards send you here?" 

"He didn't," The deputy replied. "The homeowner requested his home to be secured. We don't know what's going on." 

"Of course you don't. You do know you two are guarding a wanted man, right?" 

The deputies looked at each other, "Do you have a warrant?" 

She smirked, "I'll be back tomorrow." 

»»-------¤-------««

Once the deputies left the scene to exchange for another pair of deputies, they returned to their headquarters, seeing that Richards was still active at the station. "Shahan, Dylan," Richards addressed them by their last names, nodding his head toward his office. "A word?" 

"Sir?" Shahan said, Dylan walking in behind him. 

"It has come to my attention that an officer approached you on the scene today-"

"Yeah, some woman with a man in her passenger seat. Showed me her badge and said we were unaware of the wanted man we were guarding." 

"I know," Richards sighed, looking to his feet. "When she comes back, don't ask any questions. Understood?" 

"It seemed odd, sir," Dylan added, tension in his shoulders. "She seemed like she wanted to do harm by how she was acting." 

"Son, she works for the C.I.A. She will have a warrant by tomorrow. Just... Just stay out of her way, okay? This fight isn't in our hands anymore." 

"Isn't that against our code?" 

"Yeah. By the book is what you've always told us." Shahan added.

"Being by the book has nothing to do with a federal agent. They play by their own rules," Richards grumbled, wanting nothing to do with intervening with a federal agent's work. "You two be on site until she gets there. When she does, you two leave. Got me?" 

The pair of deputies nodded, "Sir." 

Shahan and Dylan shared a look between each other as they proceeded to their vehicles to head home for the night, Shahan offering a cigarette that was much needed after a long day of patrol. "Something bad is going to happen." Dylan sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. 

"Yeah, but I don't want no part of it. Makes me wonder why they only have one federal agent instead of the F.B.I. out here." 

"That is odd," Dylan furrowed his brows. "Maybe Richards knows more than what he's telling us." 

Shahan scoffed, "And you think he'd tell us? We're nowhere near his tier, buddy." 

"Well, no, but at the same time, if it's a criminal that has an active warrant, then why isn't he leading the raid on this one?" 

"You're asking so many questions," Shahan chuckled, watching Dylan pull out his phone, assuming he was texting his wife that he was heading home, thinking nothing of it. "If a federal agent is going after this guy, it's best we stay out of it. That guy has gotten himself into some trouble. I'd hate to be him." 

"Yeah," Dylan replied, looking down at his phone as he typed into the message box, remembering the three thousand dollars Malcolm slipped him to swear to secrecy as well as to have a reassuring person to keep guard on the entry of Isaac's home. Dylan then sent his warning text:

[avastrasposts]

Hello!

So I just realised about 300+ people decided to follow me and, I suppose, read my stories? And 300 is such a small number but to me it's surreal that so many of you want to read what I write!

So I thought I'd introduce myself a little, just to be polite you know, and be like those author blurbs they put on the inside flap of books. So read on if you want to know more about me and my writing, or just keep scrolling if you'd rather I remain a redheaded mystery with a thing for Frankie Morales.

Also, chapter 16 of The Pilot and his Girl will be posted tomorrow, it just needs another round of editing.

Also, again, this got long, so if you can't be bothered reading all my ramblings below the cut, I totally understand. I have a habit of getting wordy....

So, I'm in my 40's and I've been writing for most of my life, starting with embarrassing little short stories in adorable misspelled fashion when I was just wee. I aspired to be a journalist and then went on a completely different tangent career wise, ending up with a PhD in an area I no longer work in (fifteen years of higher education never to be touched again but you definitely want me on your team in a pub quiz!). I have vague memories of writing fan fiction in my early 20, I think? (I'm old, give me a break). But I only got back to it late last year as a way to kick start my imagination and discipline around writing again. I needed a creative outlet and writing is something I always enjoyed and found easy to do.

I live in England, in the amazing but fucking expensive city of London. I look pretty much like my profile picture, only more wrinkles and maybe a bit of silver in all that gingerness. I'm a very good cook and baker (Pedro, I'll teach you how to cook any day!) and I'm married to my very own sweet Latino man. He's not called Frankie but he does call me cariño. I have big chunk of family in Sweden and I speak a little bit of Swedish (it's actually where I am right now, we're over here celebrating midsummer).

I started writing fanfics for The Boys fandom and Karl Urban as I was binging the whole show after finishing season 4. Then I stumbled into the Pedro Pascal fandom as I watched The Last of Us.

TLoU has a very special place in my heart. I've been gaming since my early teens and bought a Playstation 3 after saving for months, my first console after playing on PC for years. When TLoU came out in 2013 I bought and played it straight away and I, like so many others, had an experience playing it. It's the only story, in any medium, that's made me cry after just 10-15 minutes of game play. The scene were Sarah dies, still gets me every time. And the rest of the game...I turned up at work the next week in a daze, just needing to tell people about this incredible story and experience I'd had. It was like no other game I'd ever played, before or since. And I've replayed the game about once a year since 2013. Back then, that kind of game was totally unique, there was nothing like it. Some games had explored stronger story telling elements, but not on this level, nothing came even close to creating such a bond between gamer and characters. Now days we're spoiled by powerful storytelling in video games, in 2013, The Last of Us was totally unique (sorry, I'm blabbering, but I could go on at length about TLoU and the impact it had).

So when I heard there was talks about turning into a tv-series, I was scared. Really worried. The gaming community have seen so many horrendous adaptations of video games, my beloved Assassin's Creed was butchered in 2016. But then I heard Pedro Pascal had been cast as Joel and I was carefully hopeful, and then Bella Ramsey as Ellie and I got really excited. I'd seen them both in Game of Thrones, both of their performances sticking in my mind. I even remember reading about Pedro being cast in GoT and looking him up and being disappointed because he looked nothing like I'd pictured the Red Viper when I read the books. But then he just swanned in and crushed it, he was so damn good, he won me over straight away. I can't imagine anyone else playing Oberyn.

And then of course, the first few trailers of TLoU dropped and we got glimpses of the show and I remember texting my equally TLoU obsessed friend and we squealed in delight at how good it looked! And the first time I heard the clicker sound....I shuddered, it was a very real physical reaction. If I'd been on the actual set and heard it, I think I would've run a mile.

And then, as I was still writing The British Connection, a fic set in The Boys fandom, I watched Triple Frontier, and, like so many others, fell hard for sweet Frankie Morales. So jumping the gun a bit, I decided to write something with him, just a drabble, to get used to writing him and to write in the Reader insert format. But it kind a grew in scope and when I had the idea of sticking him and the rest of the Triple Frontier boys into TLoU universe I knew I had to create something bigger.

Looking back I would've made the story tighter, less lengthy, had I known from the start that's where it was going to go. But part of the fun of fan fiction is posting as you go, I think. I get feedback from you guys and it makes me think of other elements to add to the story. There isn't always a set road map for how a fic is going to develop.

If you've made it this far, congratulations and thank you, I'm impressed you read all that rambling from some stranger on Tumblr! The Pilot and his Girl has a set plan now, I have chapters drawn up and although I'm not sure how many chapters I'm going to end up with, I know where the story is going. You'll find out what's happened to Pope, Will and Benny. And Joel and Tommy will of course come back to the story later on. There will be more trauma and angst as the story continues but there will be a happy ending, of sorts, in the end.

And again, thank you all for reading, commenting and reblogging! I love you all!

[namuneulbo]

week one hundred and fifty four

i looked forward to the student pubs this week. i went to both the tuesday one and the wednesday one but he wasn't at either. m couldn't join me to the pub this week either so i went with my classmate a. she joined on wednesday as well along with j. i joined them after i finished work. went by the convenience store to get some cigarettes for a. i've never bought cigarettes before. they didn't even id me!

once i got to the pub, a bought me a beer (and the two others i had that evening as well to even out the cigarettes). i was feeling fairly happy and confident and with a little hyping from my friends, i ended following his insta. he accepted my follow request and followed back a few minutes later. i freak out a little bit and end up dming him just a few moments after us following each other.

"hi !! i stole some cards from u during exploding kittens last week. ur quite cute!"

after having sent that i throw my phone in my bag and take a bathroom break and then went to buy another beer. i come back. i fix my makeup. i try to drag out the time as much as possible but j catches on and just goes "CHECK IF HE'S TEXTED YOU!". so i do.

and he has.

"ah, i knew i recognized you from somewhere."

"you're quite cute yourself ;)"

so we texted actively for the entire time i was at the pub. he's been replying slow these past few days though. he didn't even text me once on friday. it's odd because when he does text me, he's very into it. so i don't know. he does to be fair seem like a guy who probably doesn't have his notifications on and probably doesn't use his phone a whole lot. green flag, i guess? we texted a little on saturday as well. he very tongue-in-cheekily sent a picture of ACTUAL feminist literature and went "oh no, i dropped the feminist literature i'm reading right now (170 cm btw)" and i feel like him being short truly ties it all together. he's so unserious TT

the two red flags he do have are his music taste frankly being quite horrible and him following a centrist political party on instagram. see, usually, that's enough for me to leave. i'm never going to date someone who's not a leftist like me. however, he also follows the socialist party and the green party. also lots of accounts about politics in general so i think he's pretty actively interested and i know many leftists who are really into politics also follow parties they don't support just so they can keep up with them. i'll need to smoothly start talking about politics with him.

kent are having some reunion concerts next year. sooo many people i know are going to try to get tickets. i hope i get some. i'm planning to go with l and l :D

h dmed me on thursday asking if him and his friend could get a discount at my job. i said yes. he followed me again. we talked for a little bit. it's a weird feeling talking to him. like, exes (or technically not because we we're never officially together but you know...) in general i guess because it's like "yo, you've seen my entire naked body and you've seen me cry but now we're just having the most simple small talk ever". it's weirdly beautiful.

l texted me as well on friday. i mean, l and i still talk quite a lot. moreso interact, i guess? we reply to each other's tweets and send each other tiktoks and stuff but this time we talked. for hours. we're still friends in that sense. sometimes i'm embarrassed about how i'm not really over him yet. i am, mostly. enough to date other people and like other people. i think i view our time together with very rose-tinted glasses. like... i mourn memories more than him as a person specifically. i think it'll always be that way. same for h.

i miss lying in l's tiny bed, his hand gently rubbing my exposed stomach while we listened to cds on his cd-player. i miss sleeping with h and waking up to an asleep him pulling me even closer in the middle of the night. i miss coming home to l's and having dinner with his family even though i was so shy and awkward. i miss teasing h by pulling away whenever he tried to kiss me and he'd get so frustrated and it was so adorable.

i recognize that these are all moments i will most likely have with whoever else i end up dating in the future. it's not so much about the person perse. i just miss having a connection like that. i just want affection and someone to show it to.

today i had a boring day at work. it just felt like i had no energy for anything. my boss kept nagging me and even though he's so kind, it still felt like it was so passive aggressive. some of my coworkers really despise him. i don't think he's that bad. he's not bad at all actually but you know... he's still my boss. it's intimidating working with him sometimes.

bff l called me soon after i got home. they caught me mid-piss while ordering ubereats. we talked for like two hours. it's nice catching up with her. now i'm in bed, preparing for a day of pure relaxation tomorrow. it's my first day off in over a month. i've always had work or school. tomorrow i have nothing. i should study but i decided to genuinely give myself one day with no obligations. i'll enjoy sleeping in and playing games all day.

sotw: kent - det kanske kommer en förändring

[thestarsarecool]

Paul McCartney: Run Devil Run

Jim Irvin, MOJO, October 1999

THE LURE had been the chance of a lengthy one-on-one with Paul McCartney discussing all his solo albums. "You could turn it into a book," said his publicist, graciously.

All I had to agree to was to begin with his latest recording, Run Devil Run, which wasn't a problem, as it was a really very decent collection of rock and roll covers, with a few new songs, recorded in a week, a year after the death of Paul's beloved wife Linda. After we'd talked about that, said the publicist, I could go on and talk about the rest, "once Paul is relaxed".

I smell a rat when I arrive, shake hands with Paul – who's looking fit and youthful, with only his suspiciously chestnut-coloured hair looking like it had received any cosmetic help – and pull out the CD sleeves of his complete works as an aide memoire for us both.

"I'm not signing that lot," he snaps.

"Erm, I didn't want you to, it's for the interview," I say.

"Oh, right."

It was odd being in the room with a Beatle after a lifelong relationship with his music, and Paul's demeanour showed that he gets that a lot, in fact he must get nothing else when he meets someone for the first time: an uneasy mix of nerves, warmth, respect and the kind of uncomfortable intimacy that comes with a meeting where one person knows everything about the other and the other knows nothing. Because he is used to this situation, Paul looks slightly bored by it. He knows it's easier, in the long run, to be friendly and cooperative with the press, and he wheels out a few well-worn techniques to put me at my ease. He is gracious and easy-going during our conversation, but there is always something steely in his countenance, you feel he could take offence easily. You can't forget he's Paul McCartney and neither can he.

Needless to say, after chatting about the new album, Paul seems surprised when I start to ask about his debut, the "bowl of cherries" album. I begin to suspect he hasn't been briefed about the supposed purpose of this interview. Some kind of signal is given, because as we get onto Ram, Paul looking increasingly restless, an assistant appears and announces there's someone in reception Paul has to see urgently. McCartney makes his excuses and leaves. The grinning publicist apologises and insists that we will reschedule for the rest of the chat, but I know it'll never happen. Strangely, I feel slightly relieved.

The interview that follows is just the material concerning Run Devil Run which, I realise later, is surprisingly rich in information about how the Beatles worked and how Paul recalls that period.

The cry of 'C'mon lads, we're going back to basics!' seems to be a bit of a refrain in your career. You like to do it every now and then.

Yeah.

What brought it on this time?

Linda was very keen. I'd said for years, "I'd love to make a rock'n'roll record." I'd talked of other things – an old standards, Fred Astaire, Cole Porter album – but this one was more than a whim. I thought, I've got to do it before the 20th century ends, so it was the next thing I was gonna do. Then Lin died, she was really keen that I do it, so that was enough motivation: I'd better get this done. No pissing around.

So how did you approach it?

I remembered early Beatle recording techniques. Because we weren't a famous act we were given a schedule of exactly how to make a record: You come in at 10 am, you set up your amp and your guitar or drums, you have a ciggie, cup of tea, get in tune, then by 10.30 you've got to be ready to go. You just had to be ready or the grown-ups would get annoyed.

We worked from 10.30 to 1.30, and we were expected to do two songs. We took an hour's lunch exactly, then [worked from] 2.30 to 5.30. Then you went home, went out to the pictures or the pub or something. So the next day, when you came in, you'd had a life. If you'd seen a great film it kind of informed you.

So I thought I'd do exactly that, book Abbey Road for one week only, get a bunch of guys together and go and do this thing exactly as we used to.

No rehearsals?

This really surprised me. I realised that on the Monday at 10.30 George Martin would say, "Okay chaps, what are we going to do?" and the only two people in the room who knew were me and John. George and Ringo didn't even know. And I thought, Shit, that's wild! None of this "demos up front, the producer's been working on it, he's got ideas." He didn't know what we were going to do. We could just throw anything at George Martin and we did: "It goes like this: Gir-ir-irl (intake of breath), wanna get a breathy thing going there." Engineer would start to work out how to get the breathy thing, put some compression on or something... bang, bang. Everyone thinking on their feet . Then we were off and running, the match would start.

So, no homework allowed. The other thing we outlawed during the week was thinking. If someone went, "I wonder if I did this..." We'd say, "You're thinking!" It became the joke of the week. "This is rock'n'roll, you're not allowed to think, just do."

So how did you select the songs?

I just kind of dredged my memory and came up with a very arbitrary list, coz I've got millions of rock'n'roll songs that I love. I got most of them on tape and did what I used to do. Got a bit of paper and a pencil and [transcribed the lyrics]. That was a great buzz because I literally hadn't done that particular exercise since I was a kid, felt like I was 15 again sitting there copping the lyrics to Chuck Berry songs, Buddy Holly, Fats Domino.

So I got this bunch of lyrics, there's actually still one deliberate mistake on the record – find it – there's one line I never could find out, I wrote it down phonetically, "yer be livin' in spe...", turned out to be something quite different "If you do it again" and I thought I'd fill that in before the session but I forgot to do it. It was all like that, kind of spontaneous and instant. I got nostalgic for that way of working. [The Beatles] really did some good stuff like that, Revolver and Rubber Soul, all those early ones...

That way of working went right up to Revolver did it?

Way past Revolver, Rubber Soul. (I raise an eyebrow. Pause.) That's past Revolver isn't it?

Er no. Revolver's the one before Pepper.

Was it? Okay. (Pause) I was in the Beatles was I?

Yeah. Bass, I think.

(Chuckles) Basically I was. Yeah. So I thought, I'll sing and play bass at the same time, if there's anyone in the world who's had practice at that it's me. It's a bit like that (patting his head and rubbing his stomach) you've learnt how to do that, so do that. Don't get too precious. I had a bit of a funny moment on the Sunday night [before the session] because I hadn't sung for a year since Linda died, I didn't actually know if I could. I'd been writing stuff, but it had been little introspective stuff (he mimes singing softly). I was nervous [but once we started] I realised it was gonna work and I was singing good. The other thing, because I hadn't done any of these songs before either, I had no idea what the bass parts were. Then I thought, if it was good enough for George and Ringo not to know how the songs went, it's good enough for you. A little dangerous, this is good, getting dangerous. So I went in on the Monday morning with this big manila envelope full of all me words, scrappily on the back of envelopes, and flicked through them – 'Searchin'' by the Coasters, nah, didn't fancy that, 'Hippy Hippy Shake', nearly... 'Fabulous', Charlie Gracie? Yeah!"

I don't know that one.

It actually didn't end up on the album, but I remember it from the fairground. It reminded me of the Waltzer and us trying to pick up birds – which we could never do – me and me mate in our drape jackets with the flap pockets and the fleck, which was 'It.'! Whenever I got a buzz off a number I'd pull it out and say to all the guys – Dave Gilmour, Mick Green on guitars, Pete Wingfield piano and Ian Paice on drums – "Anyone know 'Fabulous'? No?" So I'd get me acoustic guitar, in five or ten minutes these guys had picked it up, get on me bass, okay, 1,2,3,4, do a take, go up and listen to it, quickly organise it, do another two takes, say, and Chris (Thomas) the producer would go "That sounds good." Great, next song. And we just did that all week. Most of the songs they didn't know. They'd know 'All Shook Up' or 'Ready Teddy' – which didn't make the album – or 'Rip It Up', but 'No Other Baby', 'Shake A Hand' and 'Coquette', nobody knew.

How did you get to know them, then?

Those songs were like where The Beatles would show up in the early days at the Aintree Institute, say, and there'd be three or four bands on the bill. We'd be due on third and the band who was second would go on and do our entire act! 'Blue Suede Shoes', 'Long Tall Sally', 'What'd I Say', there's the act gone. There was this terrible moment, "Fuckin' hell, what do we do?" "Well we'd better play them better." But [to avoid that] we started to look for B-sides – things like Bo Diddley's 'The Old Grandpappy' and 'If You Gotta Make A Fool Of Somebody', which was off a James Ray record that George had – we started to find these lesser-known songs that the other bands wouldn't have. And that's the reason John and I started writing, a surefire way [other bands] couldn't access our songs. For a while we didn't really write anything much good – at The Cavern I used to do something called 'The Pinwheel Twist', which was dreadful but worked for the time, some terrible lyrics about fireworks, probably, but it's lost in the mists of time.

'No Other Baby' is fantastic.

That's probably the most obscure. I knew the song but we couldn't find out who did it, Alan here (at mpl) did a bit of research and it turned out it was by the Vipers Skiffle Group. I was talking to George Martin about this album and said "We did some really remote things, one called 'No Other Baby' by The Vipers." Then I said, "Wait a minute George, you produced them didn't you?" I sang it to him and he goes "Oh yes, I remember that now." So talk about full circle.

I didn't even have the record of that but it just embedded itself in my memory. I used to do it in soundchecks on tour. That came out nice. One of the guys said that if these songs were film stars 'No Other Baby' would be Dennis Hopper. It has a chilly, Blue Velvet feel about it which I like.

You sound very angry in places.

That's just me singing. I don't know if I was angry or not, can't remember. When you've got to stand up and play bass live and sing too, there's no time to think of anything else, apart from, How does the bass part go? It was just the spirit of the week. As I said, we outlawed thinking.

A lot of great rock'n'roll records are great "records" rather being great songs. It's often down to the atmosphere of the recordings, isn't it?

Yeah. One or two of the songs when I looked at them I thought, Bloody hell this isn't much of a song, but I love it from the Waltzer or whatever so it doesn't matter. What I tried to communicate is my love of them, this joy at doing these numbers, and anyone who loves rock'n'roll loves doing these songs.

Fair enough on something like 'No Other Baby' that's not so well known, but it must be really hard trying to make 'All Shook Up' your own. It'd be like someone trying to do 'Day In the Life'.

Yeah, those were the challenges. What I decided was not to do 'All Shook Up' like Elvis, then it would be a pale imitation. I decided to bring it up more towards my Little Richard range, scream it more, give it a meanness, put a new interpretation on the words.

'Lonesome Town' too. I'd always liked Ricky Nelson's version, but on the way to the studio I suddenly thought, I can't do it the way Ricky did it, because I'll like his version better – I loved that, that was my teenage years – it'll just be an impression of him, so again, I thought if I take it higher I could put a more intense feel behind the words, a bit more bluesy. So I did it in C an octave above Ricky, which was fine until the middle when it became too Mickey Mouse so I said to Dave Gilmour, "Hey Dave, you do the melody and I'll go above you and do a harmony" very much like what John and I would have done, and that allowed me stay in that persona.

Did you try to make it authentic sonically, use vintage gear?

No, we decided to make it like a modern record. If your ears have become attuned to modern radio, an old rock song can sound a bit woolly and fluffy. We didn't put any old-fashioned echo on anything except 'Blue Jean Bop', Gene Vincent, that I had to do with echo because that was my memory. Again, I learnt something making this: These guys wrote for echo. (singing with tight staccato) "Be bop a lu-la she ma ba-by." That kicks the echo into a rhythm. When we had the two guitars in, it was too jangly and it didn't swing, so I was talking to Ian and singing it to him with the echo on, just me on bass and him on drums. Wait a minute, this is the way to do it, this sounds enough.

Tell me something about the three new songs.

I had one already called 'What It Is' that was sort of bluesy that I thought might be good to try. It was actually one I'd written for Linda so there was a sentimental attachment to that. I thought I'd throw it at them and try a version. Chris Thomas thought it was a good idea to try some new ones but thought it would be tricky to make them fit. While we were making the album, as we were playing 'Run Devil Run' back one of the guys said, "Who's record was this, man?" so that was a good sign, proof that it fitted.

What made you write that one?

I was in Atlanta recently with one of my kids and we went down to the funky area of town and found this shop that sold various kind of potions to stop evil, "Put this in your bath and it'll chase the devil out" seemed a bit voodoo to me, sprinkling powder for your floors...

Shake and vac the devil away...

Yeah! It actually said that on there, "Stop troublesome neighbours, evil relatives, get rid of bad people from your life, put some of this in your bath and then carry a piece of white cloth anointed in this oil and repeat the Lord's Prayer." All a bit superstitious, and one of these products was called Run Devil Run and I thought that was good rock'n'roll title. The album cover is the shop where I found the stuff.

You said you discussed this album with Linda. Why was she into the idea?

She was surprised when we met that I liked to sit at home and play loud guitar. I'd have the AC30 in the living room and crank it up with me Epiphone and just (makes rockin' noise) and she'd say "Oh, I love that. You should do that." She wanted me to play guitar solos like Neil Young does now, living the dream, doesn't give a shit and he's rocking. Linda knew I could do that and was always encouraging me to. And when she died I thought Right, can't put it off, gotta do it.

And the nice thing now is, people are expecting a certain kind of record from me after Linda's died, I've heard it from a few sources, "I wonder what he'll do now, it'll be very introspective, sad songs for Linda," and it's quite nice to go against the current. Though I've not done that on purpose, it's like when 'Give Ireland Back To The Irish' was banned and I happened to do 'Mary Had A Little Lamb' as the next record and people said, "Oh that's two fingers up to the people who banned that, they can't ban this one." and that wasn't true. I didn't do it for that reason but it was perceived like that.

Somebody said about Run Devil Run that it's as if Linda's on it – there are a couple of tracks that sound like she's there. I don't know what that's about.

It does sound like there's a female voice at some points.

There isn't.

On 'Run Devil Run's' chorus...

Yeah, that's what she would have done. She's found her way on. She's a clever girl. I got a post card from her 14 days after she died, from Arizona. Funny postcard, very cute. She was always thinking ahead. I got a birthday present last year from her in June and she died in April. She was that kind of girl, "I know, I'll get that made for his birthday." The kids gave it to me all rather (pulls apprehensive face) "I'm not sure you'll want this, but this is from mum." Do I want it? Not half.

People are going to read stuff into 'Try Not To Cry' aren't they?

Yeah, I hadn't realised that that was 'appropriate'. You don't always realise the meaning of things as you write them, you're just throwing stuff out and sometimes it's only when it lands that you're able to get objective. There are some little references in there inevitably. But I'm writing some other stuff currently and that probably is more to do with it, to do with her.

What were you searching for in the old songs as you went through the manila envelope?

Just heart, passion, something that actually made me go warm when I thought about it. 'She Said Yeah', I remember how I turned Mick Jagger on to that in the '60s. I'd always been meaning to do it and I never got around to it. I was up in the music room one day and Mick came round and I was playing some records to him and I remember Larry Williams' 'She Said Yeah' – and dancing around to it – and 'Aint Too Proud To Beg', The Tempations, he loved 'em. He actually [covered] both of them.

There was this one particular bar in Hamburg that had a jukebox and [The Beatles] used to go there and play pool with Derry and the Seniors, that was their hang-out. This jukebox had two great tunes on it, 'Smoke Gets In Your Eyes' by The Platters and 'Shake A Hand' by Little Richard and any time I was there I'd get a beer, play a bit of pool and listen to those two records. I could never find 'Shake A Hand' though, I never got the record. It's a gospel song, in America they know it by somebody else.

'Honey Hush' was a great memory for me. John and Stuart had an art student flat in Gambia Terrace, a big old-fashioned terrace with high-ceilinged rooms and the view out of the window was the Liverpool Cathedral. The first time George and I stayed out all night was there when I was about 15. And there was nothing there, we were used to beds and there was a mattress and John and Stuart were sleeping there and we were having to kip in chairs, undoing these Benzedrine inhalers because we'd read somewhere that if you undid them and chewed them they had an upper in them and we ended up talking all night. It was very frugal. It remembers better than it was, actually, no sleep, eyes burning, all that. But I remember in the morning John leaning out of this mattress, reaching over, yawning, you know, in his vest and underpants, and just putting this little Dansette on that was beside the bed and it was 'Honey Hush': "Come into this house, stop all of that yakety yak."

So it wasn't always the song or how good the singer was, it was how good my memory of it was, whether it was a really glowing hot ember of a memory.

Was it therapeutic for you to go back to this stuff?

Yeah, it was actually. Brilliant. I really felt great at the end of the week.

© Jim Irvin, 1999

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 26th February

Australia hasn't made many appearances so far, in this project. Understandably, perhaps, since we're looking at the British charts. Still, something has to break through at some point - and this novelty number, sometimes credited as the first track by an Australian artist to get into the UK charts at all, is a good enough place as any to start.

A Pub With No Beer - Slim Dusty (peaked at Number 3)

It's a country song, if the artist's name didn't give that away, but it's not any old country song - no, as we start out, it becomes clear that this is a very Australian horror story, told round a campfire as the dingos call in the background, all about how there's a-nothing so lonesome, so morbid or drear / Than to stand in a bar of a pub with no beer. This disaster, brough aobut, presumably, by a missed beer shipment, leads to complete chaos, as we hear about the anxiety experienced by the pub staff and regulars, and the dismay of a whole parade of Australian stock characters, from the stockman as the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer and the swaggie (an Australian word for an itinerant worker) as he despairs of how I've trudged fifty flamin' miles to a pub with no beer. Meanwhile, Old Billy, the blacksmith, the first time in his life / Why, he's gone home cold sober to his darling wife. The only happy folks? The wine aficionados, who naturally don't care!

It's a fun little story, and very Australian. I mean, the whole joke's about how Australians love drinking, which feels a bit stereotypical, but in an affectionate way. But we love drinking in the UK, too, and this song wouldn't work set in the UK. You'd just go along to the next village, if your local ran out of beer. So yeah, it's only really a story that makes sense in the vast open expanse that is Australia, where beer deliveries come infrequently, and where it's simply too far to the next town. Which is apparently exactly what happened in 1943, when American troops stationed in the town of Taylors Arm drank the entire month's supply of beer, beer being rationed at this point. This disaster was immortalised in a poem by one Dean Sheahan, a local poet, and a decade and change later, that's the poem this song got based on. The more you know!

Anyway, I can see why this was popular in the UK, because like I said, we like drinking almost as much as the Australians. Plus you've got the whole "novelty country" shtick, which is a pretty solid hook, too - you can get a lot of mileage out of "bush ballad, but novelty". It stands out, while being a suitably simple concept that you can pretty easily explain it to your friends. It also pushes the envelope just a little bit, language-wise. "Flamin'" isn't exactly "scrub your mouth out with soap" territory, but as a minced F-word, it's still just about the strongest language we've had in a song yet, I think?

Musically, I should mention that it's boring as hell. There's about two chords involved in the song, with nothing as much as a chorus, let alone a middle 8 or a bridge. Just verse after verse of the same tune. Which is sometimes how it works with ballads, but it's still kind of dull once you've listened to it once or twice. Which again, most people probably didn't do - a drawback of the way I listen to music for this project.

I did enjoy the Australian diversion here. And I'm normally pretty skeptical of novelty songs - a lot just don't land for me. But the humor here works, at least for me, and I love that it was based on a true story! Still not sure I'll be putting it in a regular rotation, but I appreciate that this song exists.

Favourite song of the bush-ballad bunch: A Pub With No Beer

[sesamseed]

You can usually find me at the pub at least one day a week. Sometimes I drink, sometimes I have a coffee, sometimes I have a meal. But every time I go because I like the people there, I can always find a good conversation. Today I went and found out that the guy who had been there since it opened its doors died of cancer. When I started hanging out I was 17, I was allowed to stay as long as I left before eight and never had alcohol at the table. He looked after us, joked with us, and he bought me one of my first beers when I turned 18. His favourite song was Informer (I licky boom boom down), and when it came on you could hear his voice through the entire place. And today he was gone, six days after his fiftieth birthday.

The pub is packed with regulars today, it's filled with people who love him, who he affected by his presence. There is not a single face i don't recognise! The local football team is going to have a tribute to him at the next match, because he used to lead the crowd in cheers. He was a tattoo artist and many people here have his works on him. We all miss him, and we're going to celebrate him, even though we're all crying.

Jerry, you'll be missed. But more importantly, in this small town in Norway, you'll be celebrated

[maple-the-awesome]

Ackerman's Sister || Chapter 4

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Sister Reader (strictly platonic), eventual Erwin Smith x Reader

Words: 1,848

Overview: As only a teenager yourself, you're already put under a lot of pressure acting as guardian to your little brother, and it doesn't help that he continues getting himself into trouble even in Kenny's absence.

Series Masterlist 🤎 AOT Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER FOUR: PRESSURE

You thought today would be a good day for once. Seeing that the funds Kenny left for you and Levi wouldn't last forever, you've been determined to find ways to make ends meet, but of course, finding respectable work in the Underground is far easier said than done especially considering your young age. Usually, you're paid for simple tasks like helping merchants load supplies onto their wagons or that one time you managed to milk three whole coins off some poor MP soldier who was desperate for information on some criminal in the area, however, this week has marked the first where you actually received a steady job spanning over the course of several days.

A local storekeeper had been outside complaining to a customer about being understaffed when you decided to offer your service. While they were originally against the idea, they eventually gave into your persistence, agreeing to let you work for them but only until their employee returns from sick leave. For the last four days, you've worked for the store while earning a decent wage much to your delight and, by the end of it, you were provided with enough money to buy food for the whole month.

With so much money in hand, you've decided to indulge for once, after all, this might be the only time you can afford to do so. The plan was to purchase some groceries as well as an early birthday present for Levi then make a nice dinner for tonight, but those plans have now been soured when catching sight of a crowd just down the street.

People are circled around at the end of the block, screaming and shouting cheers to whatever's going on in the center. Of course, you're not stupid. You assume based on the context clues that it's a fight, and whenever you see a fight nearby, you make the next conclusion which you always hope to be wrong, but that day has yet to come.

"Levi!"

Your once optimistic mood towards the day melts into anger and annoyance as you push past the crowd, your dull eyes locked with the two fighters. One is a man who's down on the ground, wiping the blood off his face the second the blows finally halt thanks to his attacker flinching at the sound of his name.

"What the hell are you doing?! Didn't I tell you no more fights?!" You grab your brother's arm, spinning him around to face you which is something he tries to avoid. Instead of looking up, he keeps his eyes on the ground.

"But he-!" Levi attempts to argue his case, but you don't give him the chance.

"Did he swing first?"

"Well, he-"

"Did. He. Swing. First?" Levi presses his lips together stubbornly, sneaking a quick glance at the deadly poison in your eyes before reluctantly shaking his head.

"...No," He spits the word as if it kills him to admit, continuing to glare at the ground as if it did something wrong. Meanwhile, you rub your tremble with your free hand before using it to drag him away behind yourself.

"I can't believe you. We're going home and once-"

"-‘ey now, where ya' runnin’ off to so fast, little lady? Ya’ know ya’ can't leave a fight ‘til it's finished. The kid's gotta finish what he started," the man Levi had been fighting steps in front of you both, successfully cutting you off from a hasty exit.

"I apologize for whatever my brother did, sir. I assure you he'll never do it again," you send a glare back to your brother who clicks his tongue in annoyance.

"'Sorry' don’t cut it ‘round here, princess. Ya’ gotta pay for the damage. That's how life works, ya’ know?" The man leans forward, getting dangerously close to your face even as you try to lean back with disgust. His breath smells like a pub and his yellow teeth are stained with the blood that oozes out the gap where one of his incisors use to be.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have any money," you lie quietly which only he likely hears. You try to push past him, but with a shake of his head, he snakes a very unwanted arm around your waist, drawing an uncomfortable gasp from you.

"Well then there's plenty o' other ways to pay up, girly," he slurs in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You hear Levi growl and feel him pull against your grip likely in preparation to hit the man, but you beat him to the punch quite literally. Before the man can utter another word, your fist collides with the center of his face, cracking his nose against your knuckles and forcing him off balance. Letting go of Levi's arm, you swipe your leg under the man's, sending him crashing to the ground where his head smacks against the hard dirt. While he isn't unconscious, he certainly isn't getting up anytime soon.

The crowd erupts into laughter and awes, although, you give them no mind. Instead, you turn on heel to march off without even looking back at Levi," come on. We're leaving."

Not needing to be told twice, Levi steps on top of the man before chasing after you. He makes sure to stay a few feet behind with his head bowed in shame. He can sense the anger radiating off your body, then again, anyone could tell you're beyond pissed just by the way you walk with curled fists and a fire burning behind your narrowed eyes. It's a look Levi could only wish upon those he hates most in the world.

Once arriving at the apartment, you go directly to the kitchen, setting your bag down while Levi remains standing near the door stiffly. Looking down at his clothing, he memorizes each mud stain and slight tear, although, he's sure his face looks worse judging on the burning of his cheek and jaw as well as the liquid he can feel running down from his eyebrow.

"How many times does that make it this month?" You ask suddenly from the counter, focusing the best you can on putting the groceries away in their respected places.

He kicks his shoe on the ground,"...five."

He hears you inhale sharply which draws his attention upwards for once. While he was prepared to listen to you lecture him again about not picking his battles more carefully, he didn't expect you to fall so silent nor did he expect to see the visible quivering of your hand as you pause to set a jar in the cupboard.

After a second, your hands reach up to the top of your head, pushing your hair back as you let out a shaky sigh.

Levi whispers your name with worry, however, you don’t respond to him directly. Shutting the cupboard, you walk off towards the bedroom," I...I just need some time alone right now."

He watches the door shut behind you, flinching at the soft slam of it which leaves him confused. While the two of you have fought quite a bit recently, you’ve never just walked away with so little to say. Normally he was the one to run off.

Noticing you hadn’t put all the groceries away, Levi decides to quietly finish the task, putting each item away slowly before one in particular catches his eye. Removing the porcelain pot from the bag, he's eyes go wide to discover it's a tea kettle. Although it's cracked on the top, it's still beautiful with a blue flower painted delicately on the side. Reaching further into the bag, he finds a few matching teacups.

Frowning, Levi puts the tea set on the counter by the stove and hangs your bag up by the door before finally deciding to approach the bedroom. He hesitates there, reaching a hand out to knock, however, he freezes when the sound of soft whimpers meets his ears.

Sorrow pricks his heart at the sound, leading him to slowly crack the door open just enough to peer inside the room. From the glow of the kitchen lantern, he can see you huddled at the edge of the bed, your knees pulled to your chest and face hidden in your hands as you sob.

Levi's own lip quivers at the sight. He isn't blind nor is he stupid. He knows how much you've sacrificed for him, and he knows how truly lucky he is for it; all those nights you'd stayed awake just to ensure no one gave either of you trouble and the daily streaks you'd go without eating all for the sake of providing him with more food…Without any hesitation, you took on the responsibility of keeping him healthy and safe, but what has he ever done to repay you? Get into fights and add more unnecessary stress to your shoulders…

When Kenny first came around, Levi figured he could learn to be stronger and prove to you that you don't need to keep sacrificing everything for him, however, his quest to prove he's capable only resulted in the opposite. He's only managed to get himself into more trouble, getting into fights with adults three times his size just to return home to your disappointment and anger. What happens when you can't take it anymore? What if you decide you've finally had enough and leave him just like Kenny did? He wouldn't blame you and maybe you'd even be happier without him there to be a burden, but he's terrified of losing you.

Levi quietly walks to your side before sitting down close enough for his hip to brush yours, but he doesn't say anything neither do you, in fact, you only stiffen upon hearing him enter. While your cries may have silenced, there's still visible tears rolling down your cheeks.

"...I'm sorry, (Y/n). I'm really sorry. I'll...I'll be a better brother, I promise. I won't get into any more fights, I'll come home early, and I'll even start helping you make money without causing trouble. Just...Please don't cry..." Levi can't prevent his own whimper when he does decide to speak, his grey eyes quickly filling with tears as they remain locked on your figure," I-I don't like making you sad."

He isn't really sure what to say or do. Although he had sometimes heard your sniffles on late nights after your mother died and had seen you cry while fighting with Kenny a few times, he's never seen you cry because of him which leaves him to wonder just how often it happens. That guilts eats him alive…

Fortunately for Levi, you wrap your arms around him, holding him close with his small frame held firmly to yours, his chin rested against your shoulder. He's quick to return the embrace, sniffing to keep his nose from running which is getting hard to avoid with the tears that keep filling his eyes. 

"We're gonna be okay...right?" He whispers, a bit afraid of the answer, but he's offered comfort when you pull away slightly to move a hand through his soft hair with that smile of yours that never fails to make him feel safer. 

"Yeah...We're gonna be okay."

NEXT CHAPTER ➡️

⬅️PREVIOUS CHAPTER

[romanstheory]

Simply Meant To Be Part Ten

Characters : Roman Reigns, Nala (reader), Violet, Jimmy, Jey, Naomi

Warnings : Visuals, Light Language

Word Count : 1,384

18 +

Today we travel to smackdown, we're just a little over a week from Wrestlemania and everyone has been buzzing about Roman and I. I have never been to Wrestlemania, but Roman has a few times. We are the main event of Wrestlemania day one which puts so much pressure on me. Before we get onto the airplane, we have a phone call meeting with Vince. Roman's phone begins buzzing "It's boss man" He says answering "Hello!". I scoot close to Roman as we begin the call. "Hey! How's my new favorite couple?" Vince says loudly into the phone. "Doing good, just trying to get mania ready" I say smiling. "Good! So clearly my little bonding exercise worked out more than well. Rating on Smackdown are through the roof and people can't get enough of you two!" Vince says "What if we turn this match at mania into a tables match". Roman and I look at each other, we both know high risk is my specialty. "I think that's a great idea" I say confidently

"Now, to protect the women involved obviously there will be no corss-gender table action" Vince says. Part of me was hoping to kick Drew through a table, but what boss man says goes. "That means YOU Nala, no funny business alright. I know how you like to take chances but we are not taking those chances!" Vince says sternly. I roll my eyes lightly "Understood" I say reluctantly. "Glad we're all on the same page here. Now, get your asses to smackdown and put on a hell of a show!" Vince says before he hangs the phone up. I sit in silence for a second "But wouldn't it be such a huge pop if I put Drew through a table" I say smirking. "You heard what Vince said Nala, a huge pop is not worth pissing him off. Let me handle Drew" Roman says seriously. I sigh loudly and dramatically as we board our airplane.

We arrive in our next city for Smackdown and settle into our air bnb, it's a full house! We figured why not get a legit house for old times sake. We settle in before heading to smackdown. Most of the night was filled with interviews and meetings, this is the part of the business I hated the most. I wanted the action, not the actual business. Roman and I give our promo, and deliver an ass whooping to Natalya and Drew for attempting to put us in our place. Us and a few other superstars decided to go to a bar after the show. It's an old run down pub, but it's the most low key since we didn't want to attract any attention. "Are you two ready for Mania?" Sasha asks us. "More than ready, it's a week away and I'm excited" I say gulping down the rest of my drink. "I'm just excited to get in the ring and whoop some ass" Roman says wrapping his arms around me.

We finish up at the bar, and head back to our air bnb. I am exhausted, so is Roman. Our house has a big bathtub that Roman and I fill with warm water and bubbles. We get inside of the bathtub together, I sit between his legs laying back onto him. He rubs my chin as we sit in the tub, relaxing in silence.

"I want to do this forever....... In our own place" Roman says breaking the silence. "Me too" I say softly. "After Mania why don't we take time off.... Why don't we move in together" Roman suggests "Why don't we have our own place to go home to. We both live in Florida already, it wouldn't be hard". I look back at Roman and can't do anything but smile "I would love that" I say smiling. He makes me feel all giddy and happy inside, everything is okay while he's around.

A week passes and it is Wrestlemania time, the big day! Everything has built up to this day. I am a nervous wreck and all of my emotions are everywhere. Roman's family will be attending, front row. I sent my oldest brother a ticket, but I don't think he's going to show. Part of me hopes he comes, but the other part is expecting him not to. We spend hours doing meet and greets with fans before getting to the arena hours early just to get ready. We have a dressing room with Jimmy, Jey, and Naomi by request. "I'm so nervous" I say to Naomi. "Good, that means you're going to do your absolute best" Naomi says sweetly as she brushes my eyeshadow on. "I invited my oldest brother...." I say softly. Naomi pauses and exhales "Even if he doesn't show up, you have family that will be there, Roman's family loves you" She says finishing my eyeshadow

She's right, I do have family. Little Violet is the most important person in that audience, as long as she's excited that's all I need. I take a deep breath and get my gear on as the boys sit and talk, it took them a lot less time to get ready than it did Naomi and I. The night goes on, and our match is next. Drew and Natalya's music echos through the arena along with boos and cheers from the fans. Roman and I are ready to make our entrance. I'm overwhelmed with emotions "You're going to be great, use what you're feeling right now and give them what they want" Roman says looking deep into my eyes. I take a deep breath as Roman's music hits....... It's time.

We enter and the match begins, we all trade blows back and fourth and not a single person in the arena is in their seat. I look over to my right.... and I see my brother cheering and screaming. I'm hit with a wave of emotions as I keep my composure on the outside. "He really came..." I say to myself. Just then I get a crazy idea, Natalya is on the ground recovering as Roman hits Drew with a spear. I quickly run into the ring and set up a table. Roman, oblivious to what I had planned put Drew on the table and I quickly climbed to the top rope while Roman taunted to the crowd. The crowd is roaring in anticipation of what I had planned next. "Jump Nala Jump" They all chant. I look over to my brother who is overjoyed, then at a seemingly lifeless Drew McIntyre. Roman realized what I'm doing and tries to stop me as I 360 flip off of the top rope, and directly onto Drew winning the match for roman and I.

Not a single fan in the arena was quiet, the announce team was even standing and shouting. "You never know what Pandora's Box holds!" Michael Cole screaming into his headset. Roman looks at me stunned as our hands are raised by the ref. He picks me up and sits me on his shoulder as we soak up our Wrestlemania moment. I begin to get emotional and tears fall from my eyes. This day, this moment meant to so. Roman's mom allows Violet to go over the barricade and run into the ring. She embraces us both as we all sit in the middle of the ring while the confetti falls on us. We head backstage and we're met by our family, including my brother. No words were exchanged, I hug him tightly and sob into his chest "I'm so proud of you" He says to me.

"That was bad ass uce!" Jey says to me pulling me into a tight hug. I'm on a high for the rest of the night, but this is only the beginning of the journey for Roman and I, next is house hunting. I'm really beginning to feel like I have a family, I just need to feel like I have a home. Hotels can be nice, but I want a comfortable place to lay my head down at with the love of my life and princess when we're not working. Somewhere we can grow and call our own. Things are falling into place perfectly, with perfect timing......... I couldn't hope for anything better.

[layanasstories]

If not in this life time...

----

Come away with me in the night, come away with me and I will write you a song. Come away with me on a bus, come away where they can't tempt us with their lies.

And I want to walk with you on a cloudy day, in fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high. So won't you try to come.

Come away with me and we'll kiss on a mountaintop. Come away with me and I'll never stop loving you.

And I want to wake up with the rain falling on a tin roof, while I'm safe there in your arms.

So all I ask is for you to come away with me in the night, come away with me.

- Norah Jones

---

Part 10

It's been about three weeks since the wedding, three weeks since the car ride where I told the whole story of my past. And since then we were kind of inseparable. Yes, we had times when he or I needed some space, because it just got a little too much. We kept to the agreement, and it worked. We said it when we got a little too short of breath. Or if we needed each other more. We talked about everything. I feel happy, happy with what we have. We don't give it a name, although we live by all the standards of a relationship, so we might as well call it that. I don't really care, as long as it stays as it is now, I'm happy. Perhaps something could change over time. Like, that I can wake up every day next to him. But those are dreams for later, not for now. For now, I'm on the bed in the motel room we booked. It's Lilly's birthday and we're invited to celebrate with her and the group of friends. I've met everyone before when Thomas and Hannah moved. The only one I don't know yet is Richy. He always seems to be busy with his work, rather than with friends. I just don't understand why it bothers them so much. Maybe I'll find out this weekend. The party is tomorrow and we'll be here all weekend.

It does feel weird being here in this motel, in this town. The last time I was here was with my parents, if I don't count the moving day of course. Besides the fact that I find it a bit strange and uncomfortable, I am curious about what my parents liked about this town. When I was a kid I liked swimming in the lake the most. But now that I'm an adult, I'm curious if I can see what they saw. Maybe that makes me feel like they're closer to me than I've felt until now. "How come you're so lazy, shouldn't you unpack your bag?" I am startled out of thought when Jake walks into the room with a grin. "I've already done that, it was so much that I just had to lay down." I smile back "What are we going to do tonight? Do you have plans?" I ask because I have some ideas myself. "No not really" he replies. "Great, then let's have something to eat in the center and then see if a bar is open." I suggest. "Sure, I know a nice bar" he shrugs as if he doesn't care.

We had decided to eat our dinner at a restaurant near the marketplace. It was simple, but the food tasted good, extravagant is not necessary for both of us. After dinner we walked to the bar that Jake knows. It was a short walk to the outskirts of the town, through a alley. The entrance of the bar is half way up the alley. To my suprise it's a local pub, lots of regulars. The decor is somewhat old-fashioned dark, but with a modern touch. An older man is behind the bar, which I believe is the owner. Another guy our age, full of tattoo's and long hair, walks around serving the drinks with a tray in his hand. The moment we sit down at a table the guy with the tray comes our way. "Hey cutie what can I bring you? 'Sex on the beach'?" he does not wink at me but at Jake. "I would really like that and can I braid your hair afterwards?" Jake gives him a seductive air kiss. "You know nobody can touch my hair! Thanks for ruining my mood!" the guy gives Jake a sad look. At that moment, Jake stands up and pulls the man into a tight hug. "Hey Phil, how have you been?" Jake asks after they let go of each other. "Good. Haven't seen you in a long time" Phil looks my way with a amusing smile "Is she the reason? I thought we had something!". "Stop it dude! You know it can't work out between us. And yes, she is the reason indeed." Jake pauses briefly, "Phil, Layana. Layana, Phil". Phil holds out his hand and I do the same. "Hi Phil, nice to meet you" I say. "It sure is." he says as a way of greeting. "Well what can I bring you?" he continues. "A beer for me" Jake looks my way "For me too please." I answer Phil.

When Phil has walked back to the bar, I look at Jake waiting for an explanation of what just happened. "Phil and I go back a long time. You know I grew up here. Phil didn't join our class until third year of high school and we clicked right from the start. After I found my way into the computers, Phil saw an opportunity to work for Michael with the hopes of taking over the bar someday. He did that a few years ago, and Michael works for him now in the weekends. Actually he already is retired but he loves his bar." I see a big smile forming around his mouth. "Good memories?" I ask him with a smile. "Yeah, those were good times.". Through the memories we get into a conversation, about his time here in this town. About all the pranks they'd both pulled, that they've always been there for each other, to this day. But because they have both gone in different directions in life, they don't see each other that often anymore.

At midnight we decide to end the evening and make our way back. With his arm around my shoulders and my arm around his waist, we walk to the motel. Along the way, an idea suddenly occurs to me. "Jake?" I ask to get his attention. "Yes?" he answers me without letting go or looking my way. "Well, what do you think about travelling?" I ask my question quickly because I don't want to change my mind. "Depends on where and what we're going to do." he casually gives his opinion "I don't like baking on the beach or by the pool. Yes swimming is nice, but I don't like wasting my time hanging out all day.". "That's good, because that was far from what I had in mind." I gently squeeze his side. "Okay, what did you have in mind?" he sounds a little more cheerful, as if his curiosity has been aroused. "I want to go to Varanasi, in India." I let out a sigh "I don't like the trips to islands where there is a party every night and day. I do like a party from time to time. But for big trips, I want to see the world, I want to get to know cultures. And I think India is a good start." I explain to him. He is silent for a while, then clears his throat. "Of all the places you can think of, I didn't see this one coming. But India seems very beautiful indeed." he pulls me even closer to him "So, maybe you should start making a plan."