and sybil was just 'my bad'

Another Prompt Fill

Since both came in together…  Great minds, apparently.


“Your great-aunt Eudora died,” Molly said, glancing over to Sherlock before going back to her slides.

“Oh good, when’s the funeral?”

“Day after tomorrow, reading of the will to follow. I didn’t know that was an actual thing people actually did. Like, do you lot just gather in mahogany-panelled libraries with your embroidered hankies and veils and mesh gloves and just faint dramatically when the surprise illegitimate child walks in?”

“I know they say television is a window to the world, but sometimes it would do you some good to actually go outside,” Sherlock said, shouldering her aside to see what she was looking at. “Ooh, is that brain?”

“Colon polyp, actually, though in this bloke I don’t think there was much difference. Real Darwin Award material, thought a curling iron was a vibrator with a warming feature.”

“And that killed him?”

“He tried to cool it off by running it under the tap. While it was still plugged in.”

“Which end?” Sherlock continued to look at the slide.


Keep reading

Coffee for S’bull

Ok, @ma-sulevin prompted a short meet-cute coffeeshop AU for Sybil and Bull and I wasn’t quite happy with my original response, and I didn’t like that I was restricted to three sentences, so here, have a longer response! I’ll tag @dadrunkwriting too!


Sybil put her phone down and squinted toward the counter, attempting (and failing, even with her glasses) to make her vision clear enough to read the name scribbled on the cup. It had to be her drink, but how they had messed up her name so much she couldn’t begin to understand…


With a sigh, Sybil approached the barista still shouting out her mangled name, just to be cut off by a very tall, and very muscular, body.

Sybil stopped and watched as the large Qunari picked up the drink and took a sniff. “I ordered pumpkin spice,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through Sybil’s body. It was a rare sight seeing a Qunari in Ferelden, and the barista was obviously nervous.

“Um, what’s the name?” the young man asked. Sybil shook her head. It had been decades since the wars with the Qun had ended, and still people assumed every one of the giant horned people were out to get them.

“Bull,” the Qunari said. Sybil smirked and looked back at her phone, waiting for the exchange to end and her own drink to be made. She read a text from her sister and groaned. Tell mom I’m busy Sunday she typed back. No matter how many times her mother asked, Sybil wasn’t going to set foot in that mansion for another ‘family dinner’ that would inevitably devolve into a lecture/argument about her choice in career.

“Um, this is your drink,” the barista was saying, and Sybil glanced back up to see a different cup offered to the Qunari. He inspected the original drink and turned to the coffee shop at large.

“Someone named Sbull order a black coffee?”

Sybil rolled her eyes and stepped up. “That’s mine.”

The Qunari was smirking, and Sybil blinked when she saw the eyepatch covering his right eye and the scars running across his face. He had the largest, most impressive set of horns she’d ever seen, and his muscles were nearly bulging from his shirt. No wonder the barista was so nervous, Sybil thought, letting her eyes travel down and back up his body as he handed over her drink. “Sbull’s an interesting name,” he rumbled, and Sybil shivered a little when his fingers brushed against hers during the exchange.

“It’s Sybil, actually,” she clarified, looking at her cup. S’bull had been scribbled in spiky black sharpie. “I thought Starbucks was bad with names, but this is just ridiculous.” She glanced up at the man, concentrating to focus both of her eyes on his face. “And I could say the same about ‘Bull’.”

He chuckled. “It’s The Iron Bull actually.”

Sybil snorted. “Oh, my mistake. That’s so much better.”

Bull laughed more loudly and Sybil couldn’t help but grin. There was something about him that she liked, and she found herself inspecting his body again. His horns weren’t the only thing impressive about him, and Sybil’s body flushed a little.

She certainly wasn’t afraid of him. If anything, she was… curious, and she kept watching him as they moved deeper into the café.

There was only one free table in the entire shop.

Sybil was about to leave when Bull turned to her, eyeing the backpack slung over her shoulder. “Want to share?”

It was a large enough table, so Sybil shrugged and took a seat, reaching into her bag and pulling out a book. Bull sat across from her and took a sip of his latte. Sybil opened the book and drank from her own cup, then put it down to cool.

She had barely read a page before he spoke.

“So… what are you reading.”

Sybil looked at him, his face a gray blog over the rim of her glasses. “Art history.”

“What for?”


“What kind of class?”

Sybil sighed and put the book down. He obviously wasn’t going to let her read in peace. But as she picked up her drink and took another careful sip, studying his face once more, she decided her reading could wait.

A large, sexy, chatty man had been dropped in front of her, one who apparently wasn’t put off by her appearance, and she really shouldn’t let that opportunity slip by. She’d never been with a Qunari before, but she could imagine the experience would be… interesting, to say the least.

“An art history class,” she told him with a smirk, leaning forward a little in her seat and tucking a strand of pale hair behind her ear. Her shirt was low cut and she could feel the fabric slip even lower over her chest as she moved.

“Ah, of course,” Bull said with a grin, and Sybil didn’t miss the quick flick of his eye toward her cleavage. “I should have guessed.”

Yes, she couldn’t let this one get away without at least one ride.

Progressive Chelsie Shipping Chart: Series 1 through 6

This is an update of a little something I did after S4. I’ve redone it to include events from S5 and S6. This is exactly how the insanity began, friends, with a picture of a castle and a pooch’s rump. Read through this and see how close the description comes to your actual shipping experience. I imagine it’s been pretty similar for all of us.

Hmm. What’s this? A show called Downton Abbey? Oh, a doggie! Its little bum! How cute!


That butler guy has a sexy voice. The housekeeper is really pretty.


Oh, lookie here. She’s asking if he’s ever thought about marriage. Look at them LOOKING at each other. *shippy radar pinging loudly and quickly* Oh, this should be a thing.


He’s jealous because that farmer proposed to her. (Of course, she said no!) Oh, I’m really feeling it now. This NEEDS to be a thing.


Oh, no! He’s collapsed in the middle of dinner! She’s so worried, and see how she takes care of him! OMG, she’s in his BEDROOM! I ship it! I ship it!


No, no, no! He can’t LEAVE! She’ll miss him. She will. Very much. And it costs her nothing to say it. And just LISTEN to how she says it!


Phew, he never did leave. But now, he’s sick in bed again, and look who’s fussing over him once more! I ship it SO hard!


CANCER! NOOOOOOO!!! She can’t. See how crushed he is, thinking he might lose her! But no, she’s ok. And he’s so relieved HE’S SINGING FOR HER! HE’S SINGING!!! I can’t breathe!


Sniffle, sniffle, weep, sob. Lady Sybil died. She’s comforting him. She’s touching his arm. He’s covering her hand with his own! ACTUAL PHYSICAL CONTACT!!! I think I may fall over.


These two! Honestly! While the kids are getting ready to go the fair, these hornballs are having eyesex right there at the servants’ table! Get a room!


He’s angry, but she’s calming him down. She’s touching his chest! Quick! Fetch my smelling salts!


Grigg! Alice! (She means nothing to him! Nothing, I tell you!) Crumpled letter. Wastebasket. Train station. Walking back together. Drinking sherry. Picture frame. And the looks! Just LOOK at the looks! I ship it so bad it hurts! Crying! Actual tears!


FLIRTING?!?!?! Is Mr. Charles Carson actually flirting?


HAAAAAAAAALP! THEY’RE AT THE BEACH TOGETHER! BAREFOOT! HOLDING HANDS!!! HE SAID “RISQUE”! Sweet Chelsie above, please have mercy on my poor shippy heart! ASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKL I can’t even take it. I can’t even … I can’t odd … I can’t … I cannot! I have lost my ability to can! Canning hath forsaken me. I can’t even can’t! There is no canning whatsoever to be had. Dead. Dead. Dead. As in, “not alive any more.” Like, “no longer living.” That is to say, “existing no more.”


Charles Carson, you sly dog! Really? “Nobody has to know everything”? “I don’t like it when we’re not on the same side“?  "It puts us back in agreement”? "Get away with you!”? HE’S FLIRTING AGAIN, AND SHE’S FLUSTERED! I’M FLUSTERED! I’m an incoherent mess! Unable to English! Cannot word!


“Invest in a property together”? “A business venture”? Are you kidding me? Investment, my eye! Business, my foot! Oh, help me! Something’s going to explode. My head? My eyeballs? My lungs? My heart? Everything? I can’t tell! It hurts so goooooood!


They’re looking at houses!


But no! She can’t go in on the deal with him. She’s crushed. He’s heartbroken. I’m beyond help.


But wait! HE’S ACTUALLY PROPOSING!!! MARRIAGE!!! FOR REAL! He does want to be stuck with her, and he’s not marrying anyone else, and of course, she’ll marry him, and he’s AN OLD BOOBY! And he’s so happy he’s crying. And I’m crying. And we’re all crying! ARGLBARGL!!! Highly lordship! Æßñçęøîżšùłáå@&$#%€£¥*!? BARROW! Bring me my swooning sofa! On the double!


Oh, no! She’s worried about certain “aspects” of marriage … concerned about his seeing her as she is now. How silly is that? We all know how much he adores her.


See? He thinks she’s beautiful. And he loves her. And he’s happy and tickled and bursting with pride that she would agree to be his wife. He finally said the “L” word! He loves her! Oh, my gosh! We knew it all along, but I can’t believe he said all that! “And if she feels that she must … withdraw …”? Are you kidding me? Don’t even go there!  Do not! “Pat-a-cake friendship lie?” Damn straight! Friendship is part of it, yes, but this is Love with a capital “L.” It will be a real marriage. A true marriage. Living as closely as two people can. There will be nookie! Every night. And most mornings, too. Maybe even the occasional nooner in his pantry or her sitting room.  (I read about something like that in a fanfic once, maybe, I think.)


But he thinks she’s had second thoughts. See how sad he is! Nine days’ wonder, my foot! Nine days? He’ll never “get over it.” But no, he misunderstands her. She hasn’t changed her mind at all. She was just worried that she might disappoint him – that she might not please him. But if he’s sure … And he’s never been so sure of anything! And if he wants her, he can have her – warts and all! (Why is she (mis?-)quoting Oliver Cromwell here? Never mind. I don’t care.)


He’s leaning in … and he’s touching her shoulder and her neck and her face – oh, so gently … aaaaaand … they’re kissing! KissingKissingKISSING! For real! On the lips! Their lips … are … touchingTHEIR LIPS ARE TOUCHING!!! Their mouths are actually making contact! Wait!  Do I see some tongue? This is not a drill! It’s a real, honest-to goodness kiss! And it’s glorious! And now they’re hugging … cuddling … snuggling … just holding each other contentedly. And I’ll bet he’s whispering sweet nothings in her ear – how much he loves her and how beautiful she is. And just look at her contented, relieved smile! It’s everything we hoped for and dreamed of – but thought we’d never get!

But we did get it. And here it is. And I am going to re-watch this scene 936, 274, 875, 148, 516 times until my eyeballs fall out. I need to drink a cigarette … smoke a stiff drink. Wait. I don’t smoke … or drink. Doesn’t matter. I need to start. Oh, help!


He’s going to walk with her to the home farm? A date! They’re “walking out”!


The reception location? Pft. They’re disagreeing over that? It’s not important, and they’ll sort it, so I’m going to not going to worry too much. La-dee-da. Blissfully ignoring this nonsense.


Oh, look! They’re arguing. See how in love they are! My babies love each other so much that they’re fighting. True love, I tell you. The quarreling only proves it. They’re so cute even when they’re disagreeing!


See, here! Our babies are out an on another date! At the … um … well, at the livestock show. Along with everyone else. How terribly romantic. But I don’t care. They’re together, and they’re sweet.


Finally! The reception location is settled. Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes! Just look at the way they’re looking at each other! In front of the family! Their love is on display for all to see.


Do you see these adorable über-goobers?! Do you see them?! Do you see how endearing they are?! Old boobies! He just wants to see her one last time before the big event, to be alone with her for a few more minutes. They’re so nervous and excited that they hardly know what to do with themselves – how to stand or where to put their hands! Cuteness overload! This might be the most adorable thing ever! I ask you, have you ever seen such irresistible sweetness?


And they’re getting married! The wedding! We get to see some of the vows and the giving of the ring! And now they’re officially hitched! Mr. and Mrs. Carson!  Mr. and Mrs. Charles and Elsie Carson! The Carsons*runs around the room like one of those out-of-control cartoon characters* They’re walking down the aisle, and she’s so giddy that she can barely contain her excitement, and he’s just beaming with pride! She’s biting her lip to hide her grin and to keep from shrieking with joy, and he’s strutting down the aisle like a peacock, chest puffed out, thinking, “Oh, yeah, baby!  I wifed her!” I cannot can! And a post-nuptial smooch! And he’s the happiest and luckiest of men! And she’s a woman of such grace and charm, and she’s entrusted her life’s happiness to him. It passeth all understanding. (Well, no, not really. We all understand perfectly.)

It’s happened. It’s really happened. They’re married. After five seasons and thirteen Downton years, they’re finally wed. (Why did no one listen to us from the very first episode? We called it in April of 1912! Why did it take until May of 1925 for everyone else to catch up?) And once again, I can muster no ability to can. My canning capacity is precisely zero. My can is completely empty. I have serious case of CAN’T. Maybe even full-blown CANNOT – or perhaps the most deadly strain: CANNOT EVEN*reminds self to breathe: “deep breaths, now”*


They’re back from the honeymoon! I’m disappointed that we didn’t get to see any of it (they’ve been gone nearly the whole episode, and I’ve missed them so!), but they look so happy. Look at how happy they look! Ah, wedded bliss! I’m going to cry!


Eek! Sofa snuggling! Couch cuddling! But they’re interrupted. Of course. Fie on thee, Barrow!


But the honeymoon’s over. Cooking-gate! Stupid! Grrr! Grumble, grumble. Maybe I can just pretend it’s all a bad dream. Fast forward. Wait.  Rewind. She is pretty silly, flapping her wrist around; and he is kinda funny, bumbling around the kitchen; and she’s looking at him so lovingly … Ok, so there is that, at least …


He’s a curmudgeon. But she’s not going off him, because he’s her curmudgeon, and that makes all the difference! She’s kissing him in the kitchen – in broad daylight and in plain view! And he likes it! He’s smiling! Smirking so smugly! He’s so pleased with himself for having done something right! (Though he probably has no idea what exactly he’s done to make her love him!) And don’t even try to tell me that these two don’t get up to all sorts of hanky-panky in their love nest.

Who would have thought? The butler and the housekeeper smooching downstairs in the middle of the workday! All my dreams have come true!


Oh, no! His hand is shaking. But she’s his wife, and she loves him. He’s got to retire – or at least step back a bit. It will be a different life, but they can make a go of it. (I kinda wish they’d been allowed to choose to retire – together – instead of having retirement forced on them … or on him, at least. But whatever, Fellowes.) And they’re kissing again! Happy New Year, Charlie and Elsie! Happily ever after! Sigh. *puppy dog heart eyes*


Right, then. Soooooo … Now, what? It’s over. All over. What will I do with my life now? I feel so empty inside. (Not even kidding here.)

*Special thanks to @brenna-louise for helping me track down particular scenes.*

downtonabbeyandausten  asked:

I would love to hear your thoughts on Edith! Her strengths, her weaknesses, what you wish the writers had done differently in relation to her character, any random opinions you have about her, etc. :)

At first, I thought I wasn’t gonna like Edith, honestly. She was the forgotten sister and didn’t have a lot of confidence and those kinds of characters, especially when surrounded by much bolder and independent siblings don’t always appeal to me. But like, when she got jilted and stuff, I DID feel bad for her, and I liked that she went to work with Sybil at the hospital and at the newspaper and learning how to drive…I like that they worked on giving her her own area and her independence and things that were just for her instead of just keeping her in the background, the eternal Jan Brady having nothing that she feels is her own and that everyone else does it better.

But I have to say, the Marigold thing was not my favorite. It hurt me to see her go through that, you know? I felt like it was a step back after all the progress she made. But that’s just me. I would have skipped that plotline. But overall, I like Edith, and I like that they did, despite starting her out as the odd man out sibling who’s not got as much appeal as her siblings, give her a good man and independence and stuff so that she wasn’t just the spinster daughter who had to be locked away.

anonymous asked:

Hi! :) I'm always been curious about the love story about Richard Burton and Liz Taylor. I was wondering if you could make a summary of it? thanks

I apologize for this taking so long to reply, I’ve not had the time to sit down and answer it.

So, there’s so much to say and I’m not going to be very accurate with dates, so heads up but I can give you the gist of it.

Basically he saw her first in the early 50s when she was with Michael Fielding and wrote the following thing about it:

She was,” he proclaimed, “so extraordinarily beautiful that I nearly laughed out loud. She … [was] famine, fire, destruction and plague … the only true begetter. Her breasts were apocalyptic, they would topple empires before they withered … her body was a miracle of construction … She was unquestionably gorgeous. She was lavish. She was a dark, unyielding largesse. She was, in short, too bloody much … Those huge violet blue eyes … had an odd glint … Aeons passed, civilizations came and went while these cosmic headlights examined my flawed personality. Every pockmark on my face became a crater of the moon. I reached up with a casual hand to cover up the right-cheeked evidence of my acne’d youth. Halfway up I realized my hand was just as ugly as my face and decided to leave the bloody thing and die instead. But while contemplating the various ways of suicide and having sensibly decided, since I had a good start, to drink myself to death, I was saved by her voice which said, “Don’t you use words like that at the Old Vic?””

She was not so impressed, she said:

He was rather full of himself. I seem to remember that he never stopped talking, and I had given him the cold fish eye.

They went one with their lives until they met again on the set of Cleopatra - 1963. Elizabeth was then married to Eddie Fisher and Richard was married to Sybil Williams. However, Richard was a notorious womanizer and player and she knew this going in so she made up her mind to not fall for him however… He had gotten very drunk the night before and showed up the first day on set with a bad hangover and she described:

I met Richard (again), and I had met him before, but I thought, huh, I’m not going to be a scalp on his belt because he was a terrible flirt. And the first scene we had on “Cleopatra” he was so hung over he was pathetic…. and I felt my heart just went, oh, poor baby. And he said, ‘could you help hold this cup up to my lips, please, my hands are shaking too much’. So I did. And I looked into those green eyes, and it was like, huh, here I am.

So they began this clandestine not so hidden love story:

Many people recalled the day that Richard Burton marched onto set with a devilish grin and proudly announced: “Well, I finally fucked Elizabeth Taylor in the back of my Cadillac!” 


Until they were captured by paparazzi while on break from filming in Italy and these photos went to capture international attention:

So, they divorced their perspective spouses and married on March 15, 1964. They were the first power-couple of Hollywood, first time paparazzi followed a couple so much. They made a few movies together, some better than others, admittedly. He adopted her daughter and they had tons of family time, drinking, fighting and fucking. 

They divorced in 1974 and remarried again from 1975 only to divorce a few months later in 1976… then they continued in contact through letters and calls until they met up again in was it 1982 professionally.

They maintained contact and there’s Elizabeth’ statements that they had planned to get back together in 1984 before he left to Switzerland were he died but not before sending her one last letter, which has never been revealed. A letter that as waiting in her mail when she came back from his funeral. This letter she kept in her bedside table until her death in 2012. 

So, I’ve summarized as best as I can. There’s a lot of documentation of them all over the internet, excellent quotes which are quite amusing, romantic and sometimes disturbing. They were addicted to each other as much as they were to their drinking and smoking. But that they loved each other, that much cannot be denied. 

In an interview with Larry King, Elizabeth stated that Richard was the love of her life despite her many marriages.

Some of my favorite quotes:

“You must know, of course, how much I love you. You must know, of course, how badly I treat you. But the fundamental and most vicious, swinish, murderous, and unchangeable fact is that we totally misunderstand each other - we operate on alien wave-lengths. You are as distant as Venus and I am tone-deaf to the music of the spheres. But how-so-be-it nevertheless.  I love you and I always will. Come back to me as soon as you can …” - Richard


Since I was a little girl, I believed I was a child of destiny, and if that is true, Richard Burton was surely my fate. - Elizabeth


Continued with the same gifted pen. It’s no use pretending that you are an ordinary woman. Quite clearly, like this pen, you are not. I don’t mean, for a second, that you are in any way comparable with a pen. And yet you are, like this divine pen you are heavy and light at the same time.… How [to] watch the puritanical face relax into slow lust? How to watch that watch catch its breath, and, for a speck of a speck of a millionth of a second, become the animal that all men seek for in their women? And since we’re talking of pens and you, how [to] watch the ink splurge out of the pen … reach[ing] out from the inner depth of the divine body. Will you, incidentally, permit me to fuck you this afternoon? Yours truly (you have just come into the room), R.B.


“The next thing I knew,” Elizabeth later recalled, “he was by my bedside and we were squeezing the air out of each other and kissing each other and crying, ‘Please come back with me,’ he asked. 


Answer 30.

Thank you @murtahg​ for tagging me.

Rules: answer 30 questions and tag twenty blogs you would like to know better.

1. nicknames: I don’t have one since my name is really short, but some of my childhood nicknames were nana and snowflake (thanks mum)

2. gender: Female

3. star sign: virgo  by western astrology

 4. height: 160( 5′2

5. time: 12:53

6. birthday: 30.8

 7. favorite bands: Florence and the Machine, Amon Amarth, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds,First Aid Kit, Katla,Wardruna,Paradise Lost.

8. favorite solo artists: Leonard Cohen,Sybille Baier,  Soley ,Johnny Cash,Phildel

9. song stuck in my head: Remember the day-Sybille Baier

10. last movie I watched: It’s just the End of the World

11. last show I watched: Game of Thrones   

12. when did I create my blog: Sometimes in 2010 I think

13. what do I post: art, mythology, sports, shows, complaining, everything really

14. last thing I googled: “160 cm to feet” 

15. do you have any other blogs: I do but I don’t really use them on a regular basis.

16. do you get asks: Sometimes

 17. why did you choose your url: Simargl is the Slavic equivalent of Fenrir the wolf and I love its story.

18. following: Around 200. 

19. followers: Just over 800.

21. average hours of sleep: 4 to 6.   

22. lucky number: 16

23. Instruments: cello,bass 

24. what am I wearing: shorts and a t-shirt

26. dream job: Syntactician

27. dream trip: Sweden,Norway, Iceland anywhere cold really

28. favorite food: chicken and veggies 

29. nationality: nowhere extraordinary tbh

30. favorite song right now: Katla-Hyldypi

I don’t know whom to tag because I’m currently not in the mood for tagging, but I’ll edit this post at some point!

A Boyfriend for Books - Ch 1

TITLE: A Boyfriend for Books
AUTHOR: iamburdenedwithgloriousfeels
GENRE: Fiction
FIC SUMMARY: Tom Hiddleston is the son of wealthy CEO James Hiddleston. Tom has made so many mistakes in his life; he wants to start over. So when he asks his dad for money for his new start, his dad doesn’t go along head first. He tells his son that in order for him to get the money, Tom must get a respectable girlfriend, and take her to prom. Just when Tom is going to see his dad to confess the bad news, he gets stuck in an elevator with Sybil Mathews. A pale girl with big, curly dark hair and pretty hazel eyes, and suddenly, Tom knows he’s just found the solution to all of his problems.

Chapter 1: Stuck in an Elevator

I stare numbly at the glowing button on the keypad, waiting for the elevator doors to shut. But then, the doors jerk back open and a tall figure is waiting behind them. He’s wearing dark jeans, a white shirt with a black leather riding jacket. My eyes flicker to his face and I quickly turn my head to hide my sudden blush.

It’s Tom Hiddleston. He’s the guy that the girls drool over because he’s rich and wealthy, and boys secretly envy him for similar reasons. Mostly, I think, it’s because he can get any girl he wants. He simply winks at them and they fall at his feet.

Keep reading

This is an update of a little something I did after S4.  I’ve redone it to include events from S5.  I’m sure S6 will be off the charts.  This is exactly how the insanity begins, friends, with a picture of a castle and a pooch’s rump.  Read through this and see how close the description comes to your actual shipping experience.  I’d imagine it’s been pretty similar for all of us.

Hmm.  What’s this?  A show called Downton Abbey?

Oh, a doggie!  Its little bum!  How cute!

That butler guy has a sexy voice.  The housekeeper is really pretty.

Oh, lookie here.  She’s asking if he’s ever thought about marriage.  Look at them LOOKING at each other.  *shippy radar pinging loudly and quickly* Oh, this should be a thing.

He’s jealous because that farmer proposed to her.  (Of course, she said no!)  Oh, I’m really feeling it now.  This NEEDS to be a thing.

Oh, no! He’s collapsed in the middle of dinner!  She’s so worried, and see how she takes care of him!  OMG, she’s in his BEDROOM!    I ship it!  I ship it!

No, no, no!  He can’t LEAVE!  She’ll miss him.  She will.  Very much.  And it costs her nothing to say it.  And just LISTEN to how she says it!

Phew, he never did leave.  But now, he’s sick in bed again, and look who’s fussing over him once more!  I ship it SO hard!

CANCER! NOOOOOOO!!!  She can’t.  See how crushed he is, thinking he might lose her!  But no, she’s ok.  And he’s so relieved HE’S SINGING FOR HER!  HE’S SINGING!!!  I can’t breathe!

Sniffle, sniffle, weep, sob.  Lady Sybil died.  She’s comforting him.  She’s touching his arm.  He’s covering her hand with his own!  ACTUAL PHYSICAL CONTACT!!!  I think I may fall over.

These two!  Honestly!  While the kids are getting ready to go the fair, these hornballs are having eyesex right there at the servants’ table!  Get a room!

He’s angry, but she’s calming him down.  She’s touching his chest!  Quick!  Fetch my smelling salts!

Grigg!  Alice!  (She means nothing to him!  Nothing, I tell you!)  Crumpled letter.  Wastebasket.  Train station.  Walking back together.  Drinking sherry.  Picture frame.  And the looks!  Just LOOK at the looks!  I ship it so bad it hurts!  Crying!  Actual tears!

FLIRTING?!?!?!  Is Mr. Charles Carson actually flirting?  HAAAAAAAAALP!

THEY’RE AT THE BEACH TOGETHER!  BAREFOOT!  HOLDING HANDS!!!  HE SAID, “RISQUE”!  Sweet Chelsie above, please have mercy on my poor shippy heart!  ASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKL  I can’t even take it.  I can’t even …  I can’t odd …  I can’t … I cannot!  I have lost my ability to can!  Canning hath forsaken me.  I can’t even can’t!  There is no canning whatsoever to be had.  Dead.  Dead.  Dead.  As in, “not alive any more.”  Like, “no longer living.”  That is to say, “existing no more.”

“Nobody needs to know everything!”?  “Get away with you!”?

HE’S FLIRTING AGAIN, AND SHE’S FLUSTERED!  I’M FLUSTERED!  I’m an incoherent mess! Unable to English! Cannot words!

“Invest in a property together?” Are you kidding me? “A business venture?” Oh, help me! Something’s going to explode. My head? My eyeballs? My lungs? My heart? Everything? I can’t tell! It hurts so goooooood!

They’re looking at houses!

But no!  She can’t go in on the deal with him. She’s crushed.  He’s heartbroken.  I’m beyond help.

But wait!  HE’S ACTUALLY PROPOSING!!!  MARRIAGE!!!  FOR REAL!  He does want to be stuck with her, and he’s not marrying anyone else, and of course, she’ll marry him, and he’s AN OLD BOOBY!  And he’s so happy he’s crying.  And I’m crying.  And we’re all crying!

ARGLBARGL!!! Highly lordship! Æßñçęøîżšùłáå@&$#%€£¥*!?

BARROW!  Bring me my swooning sofa!  On the double!

“Hello?  911?  Yes, this is chelsie fan.  I’d like to reserve an ambulance and book an ER bed for Sunday, September 20th…  No, I do not have an emergency right now, but I’m going to have one soon…  What do you mean, ‘That’s not the way it works’?”

And that, friends, is how it all began.  And how it continued.  And how it intensified.  And how it will end.  So get your affairs in order before Sunday.

Love to all -

chelsie fan

This is not what it looks like. He is still alive, I promise! My humans got “us” a bigger bed, but the small one still hogs it. It’s not so bad because I still have the sanctuary of my chair, and he’s not tall enough or clever enough to jump up there. Anyway, today I got my own back. My human turned her back for one second at dinner time, and I ate all his dinner. After I had already eaten mine, so he couldn’t have mine instead. Ha! Just remember who’s boss.