another book that i shall be making

- Guide to another space -

Okay…let’s get started with my review on the latest chapter of The Freshman Book 3…Kaitlyn lovers, I’m sorry, but I’m about to let loose on this bitch. This will be a long post…

Originally posted by illbebachinaminuet

So…we’re still at the concert with that big ass brawl happening. MC acting all helpless and shit and keeps getting pushed around. Zig, my baby, gets her up and out of the club. MC locks eyes with Kaitlyn, as a signal or something, basically letting each other know that they’ll meet outside. I’m thinking she’s gonna come to MC and ask her if she’s okay but then this bitch does this

Of course, I had this reaction

Originally posted by lifetimetv

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The Way My #TeamPetty Is Set Up... :Hopes, Dreams and Shade for Penessa and Fauxlake in 605

A/N: This post is dedicated to #TeamPetty. You know who you are. Also= Peter + Vanessa (h/t @jarmstrong05)

It’s time for one of my favourite pastimes: shading Jake  and Fauxlake (past works cited at the end).  A few stills from #Scandal’s next episode, “They All Bow Down” (605), have emerged:

There are more, but you can find them yourself. The  photos have some in the fandom all aflutter with fantastical assumptions, about which I feel shady enough to address:

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Hello, loves! I had a day off (considering I literally worked for approximately fourteen-plus hours yesterday, I needed it, and I’m about to work six days in a row) and so, I have finished another request!


Now, I feel I should explain a few things first, to do with how I had to do this request, but first I shall quote said request:

“hey could you do a maze runner imagine, where the reader is the only girl in the glade and shes a runner, and one day she doesnt make it out so everyone thinks she died but actually wckd took her? So they meet again after some years when they all escape. (And maybe shes together with newt). I hope you understand what I mean and it isnt to much :) And I really like your imagines so far :)”

This one has been a bit challenging for me, because…well, I couldn’t quite figure out how to do it within canon standards—Newt being a non-immune and the Flare Virus being airborne.

Therefore, I’ve taken a few liberties. I’ve noticed, in the movie-verse, it seems that the Flare is not airborne—it seems to be transmitted by biting (which, book-wise, would make enough sense, as the past-Gone Cranks attempt to consume humans), so theoretically, I went with open wounds and by blood—which I think is far easier for me to have Newt survive in that case, than if the virus is airborne and, book-wise, inevitably transmitted to nearly every human.

Equally, I found it a bit hard to figure out what to do with the reader for “some years,” so…well, you’ll see.

I’ve blended the book and movie a bit, though it might not be noticeable—it might be me being paranoid about my writing, but I figured I’d throw you lot the warning.

I hope I’ve done your request justice, Anon—please let me know if you like it!

Everyone, if you read this to the end, please let me know if you’d like a part two? I feel it could, potentially have one, and while it might come a ways down the line, if there’s enough demand, I’ll do it when next I sit down to write, dears.

Faster. I have to go faster. It’s catching up. These are the only words in my head, the only thing I can think; my ribs ache and my sides burn, my legs are ablaze and the breaths I take slice through me.

I can’t run faster.

But the Griever is following me, catching up, too fast to escape, and I scream when its blubbery, wet skin finds me.

I’m sure I’m Stung. I’m dead. It’s all over.

But all I know, thereafter, is that it’s pulling me in…

And I can’t fight it.

The last I can think is of the faces I know. Minho, Ben, Alby, Zart, Gally…


I cling to the thought of him until I lose consciousness.

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Written In The Stars

Summary : Sometimes, life throws things at you that you never thought you could get through.
It was Christmas break, and you were on your way back home. Or so you thought.
There was a severe storm where you were, which delayed your flight. As you sat in the airport, waiting for time to pass, you run into someone who will forever change your life. AU

Characters : Sam Winchester x Reader

Word count : 1908

Warnings : cursing?

A/N : so I never show Sam any love, and thought why not?! Hopefully you’ll like it!!

You sat by the window, staring endlessly. The rain was pouring tremendously, echoing around you. It was somehow soothing.

There was a slight cold breeze, that radiated from the outside. Making you shiver, though you were wrapped up in your coat.

The airport was crowded with strangers. All huddled in, either on their phones or staring at their laptops. It pained you to see that no one interacted with one another.

You sighed, playing with the pages of your book.

As minutes passed by, your phone vibrated in your pocket, causing you to jolt in your seat.

“Hello?” You exhaled.

“Hi sweetheart. Your father and I are about to leave to pick you up soon. What time shall you be arriving?” Your mother stammered.

You let out a long sigh, glancing outside. “I don’t know. There’s a storm right now, so the flight got delayed.”

“Are you serious! You have to try and find an earlier flight.”

“Mom, there’s nothing I can do. There’s a storm! You want me to tell Mother Nature herself to cool with the downpour?” You said sarcastically.

She only but huffed, which you imagined she rolled her eyes as well.

“You can’t miss your sisters wedding. She needs you.” Your mother spewed.

“I know. I’ll try to get home as soon as I can.” You stammered. “But I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

Before she could say another word, you ended the conversation abruptly, and shoved the phone back into your pocket.

It’s been two years since you and your sister have spoken. And though it would be longer you knew it was time to face reality.

The thing about love is, you can’t help who you fall in love with.

Michael was everything to you. He was one of your best friends growing up and when you two finally dated, you thought that he was it. You two were engaged, just weeks away from your wedding until you walked in on him with your sister. Of all people.

You remembered how you felt. As if your whole world had just stopped spinning and you couldn’t breathe.

And though it’s been 2 years since the incident, you still find it hard to trust them. To trust anyone.

You let out a long sigh, and tried to keep the images from your thoughts.

There was a light smell of coffee that caught your attention. You looked around, until you met the gaze of the Starbucks sign, ahead of you.

As you started toward the cafe, you rummaged through your purse, looking for your card.

You felt yourself crash into broad shoulders, making you almost fall to the ground. The sounds of paper shuffling and a soft grunt echoed around.

“Shit-im sorry.” You yelped, bending down to retrieve the papers that fell.

A sound of a small chuckle hummed in your ears. You slowly looked up, meeting the gaze of hazel eyes.

The man before you was extremely tall, where you had to crank your neck just to see him. Your gaze traced his long, messy brunette hair to his worn combat boots. His eyes were warm, a range of soft colors. It reminded you of sweet Carmel. He was lean, and perhaps well built under that heavy coat that draped over him.

His lips twitched up slightly, flashing you a faint smile.

“It’s okay! Don’t worry about it.” His voice was soothing, causing your stomach to flutter.

There was something about him that intrigued you. But you shook off the thoughts immediately, clearing your throat.

“U-uh here. These are yours.” You muttered, handing over the pile of papers.

As he reached for his belongings, your hands gently grazed over each other, causing shivers to run up and down your spine.

He could only smile from the sensation.

“I’m Sam.” He addressed.

“Y/N.” You smirked, biting at your bottom lip. Something you did out of habit.

You felt yourself shiver from the cold breeze that came directly outside.

You looked past Sam, and toward the line to the cafe, smelling the sweet scent of coffee.

Turning your gaze back, you flashed a soft smile. “How about I buy you some coffee. I mean, it’s not like we are going anywhere.” You chuckled.

Still feeling horrible from knocking everything out of his hands.

His lips curved, and he nodded, taking a step to the side, motioning for you to lead the way.

You could feel his stare, though you were a few feet in front of him. It made your heart begin to speed. Something you haven’t felt in so long.

Nervous as you were, you tried to hold your composure, not once looking back. That was until you foot hit against the back of your heel, making you trip over self.

But without hesitation, Sam scooped his arms around your waist, holding you up.

You were so close, close enough to breathe him in. He scent was intoxicating. It brought you to a high.

He pulled you up and slowly dropped his arms. A smile never leaving his face. “You okay?” He lightly chuckled. Trying to seem concerned, but failing miserably.

You laughed off the embarrassment, feeling your cheeks flush. “I’m great.” You muttered. “Thanks.”

Sam couldn’t help himself, he was hypnotized by you. He noticed the way you grew bashful, the way your eyes crinkled as you smiled down at your feet. He noticed the red tint in your cheeks. And somehow, he knew he wanted to know you.

You cleared your throat, snapping him out of his trance. “Sam, did you hear me?” You exhaled. “Order your drink.”

His body tensed as he pursed his lips. “Yea-uh can I-can I have just a regular coffee with sugar and cream please.” He muttered to the barista.

The tall blonde nodded, and flashed a wink. Making it extremely obvious of her attraction for Sam.

You rolled your eyes and let out a soft chuckle.

As you both retrieved your hot cups of Joe, Sam ushered for you to sit at the table by the window in the far back.

The rain was still heavy. Hitting the glass repeatedly, it rang in your ears.
The warmth of the coffee felt perfect against your hands. It made you feel at ease.

“Thanks for the coffee.” He smiled, snapping you out of your daze.

Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, you swore time had stopped. His pointy nose was something that caught your eye. It was cute and though it was big, it fit his face perfectly.

“So are you going on vacation for Christmas?” You asked, slowly taking a sip in hopes you won’t burn yourself.

He shrugged his shoulders, and curved his lips downwards. “Sort of.” He stammered.

You furrowed your brows, unaware of what he meant. The hot liquid scorched your tongue, along you flinch from the pain.

“My brother and I are surprising our mom for Christmas. She has no idea.” He chuckled. “I mean, I haven’t been back to my hometown in years so I guess you can say it’s a vacation.”

You smiled at the thought of him and his brother, who you tried picturing, but somehow managed to get an image that looks exactly like Sam, surprising their mom.

“You and your family are close?” You asked, still holding the cup in your hands. Indulging in the heat.

“Yea, I mean, my family is all I have. They are everything to me.” He smiled.

You tried to remember a time when you felt that way about your family. When everything wasn’t so screwed up. But you couldn’t. All you could think about was the fact that your sister was about to marry Michael. And it made you sick.

“Y/N.” Sam stammered, raising an eyebrow.

“Wh-what?” You hummed.

He chuckled, flashing an innocent smile at his coffee, before meeting your gaze once again. “You seem like you have a lot on your mind.” He muttered.

You took in a long deep breath. Nodding your head slowly as you pursed your lips. “Yea, i mean it’s not everyday your sister marries your ex fiancé.” You blurted out.

Sam’s eyes widened, as your words stitched into him. He cringed at the last word, when your voice slightly shook.

“Woah-wait, what?” He exhaled.

You blew out a breath and hung your head low. “Nothing. Let’s forget it.”

The pain in your voice was very distinct. He could see just how distraught it made you. And though all he wanted was to know more, he didn’t want to force you into talking about anything you weren’t comfortable with.

“If your house was on fire and you had-“he paused and shrugged his shoulders a bit. “And you had 60 seconds, what would you take?”

You furrowed your brows at him. Baffled at the question he just asked. “What?” You breathed.

“If your house was-”

“No I heard you, I just. I don’t know, I never thought about it.” You whispered.

The sound of the intercom startled you. A woman’s voice spoke over the speaker, informing that the storm has ceased and the plane was ready to board passengers.

You felt your heart sink to the pit of your stomach as the thoughts of your family spammed your mind, like a movie playing over and over again.

Swinging your legs and hopping out of the chair, you hung your purse over your shoulder.

Sam propped up on his feet, clearing his throat.
“Guess that’s you?” He asked.

You nodded and flashed a soft smile. “Yep. Off to the cold Colorado!” You chuckled.

“It was really nice to meet you, even though it was for only a few hours.” He muttered, staring intently at you.

“It was nice to meet you too. Hope you have fun with your family.” You stammered.

As you were about to turn away, Sam slipped his hand into yours. Causing a small shock to vibrate through you.

Spinning you around, you couldn’t help but laugh. He gently pulled you in to him, and gave you a gentle hug. Breathing him in, you felt safe in his arms. As if you were meant to be exactly right where you were.

But with all the things you have been through in your life. With the constant reminder that love is just a shout into the void. And you were finding yourself, falling for a guy you barely even knew.

You pulled away from him, clearing your throat as your cheeks grew warm.
“Well I ought to be leaving. Don’t want to miss my flight.” You spewed. “Goodbye Sam.”

You turned on your heels, and made your way to the terminal. Leaving Sam behind with his thoughts running wild. He watched you fade into the crowd, until you were no longer visible.

“Good bye, Y/N.” He mumbled to himself.


Finally reaching to your seat, you were fortunate to sit next to the window. Something you loved more than anything.

There was something about staring endlessly at the clouds you flew through that made you feel calm. It made you forget all of your worries.

You placed in your headphones, blasting your music as you waited to take off.

But there was one thing that wouldn’t leave your mind. That even though you tried so hard to think of anything else, you just couldn’t.
You couldn’t keep yourself from thinking about him.

About Sam.


Should I continue??

cafecliche  asked:

Ooh! For the writing meme: 18?

  • 18. Tell us about that one book you’ll never let anyone read

Well, every story circulates back in one way or another with me, but…the first, and second, and third drafts of That Vampire YA I wrote in early high school. Oh, and the fairy tale that I made the mistake of showing to my older cousins because I thought they would be supportive and still makes them howl to remember it because of my twelve-year-old ideals about romance and very, very awkward descriptions with regards to displays of affection. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

Originally posted by glass-is-always-half-full

Half a King Sentence Starters

(From part 1 of the book.)

“My footing won’t be my problem.”

“I have two feet, at least.”

“Shall we have another bout?”

“Glorious victories make for fine songs.”

“Glorious defeats are just defeats.”

“On the battlefield there are no rules.”

“It’s me who should be sorry.”

“I’m not much good in fair fights.”

“I’ll try not to trip over my sword!”

“I didn’t ask for half a son.”

“I thought you’d never get here.”

“And what am I?”

“I am sorry for everything but… this is the greater good.”

“This is not what I wanted for you.”

“Don’t worry, there’s always the chance I survive.”

“I’ll make you proud.”

“Gods damn this thing!”

“If he says we all put aside our shields, it must be so.”

“Object if you please. Then do as I tell you.”

“Vengeance is taken piece by piece.”

“Did I not swear an oath?”

“I heard it, and though it too heavy an oath for you to carry.”

“He is the one who killed you.”

“I tried to stop him. But the coward had a hidden blade.”

“Then stop kicking me down.”

“Kneel, dog.”

“Sad to say, not all men that die are killed by me.”

“I do not swell myself with the killing of weak things.”

“Why kill what you can sell?”

“Collar him and put him with the others.

not-erix  asked:

wait wait wait. related to the shitpost, what if the Ultra Magical Wall Mirror of Unimaginable Power™ was actually just a normal mirror and Gaster /pretends/ that it's magic so he can claim he's the prettiest monster to live in the History of Ever™


omg thE PLOT TWIST. 

I LIKE IT. Let this be in an alternative Reapertale universe yesplz. RTShitpostingAU 8DD //ISBRICKED

Hehehehe thanks for spotting it! ;DD //IS BRICKED AGAIN

Naaaaahhh they wouldn’t freak out lmao. They’re all very chill about alternate universes and such for the most part. I mean, if they found out they were in a comic book (i.e. they saw the comics I’m making), then they’ll just see it as another human (i.e. me) expressing/re-telling their story. I’m like their ORACLE 8DDD //SHOTSHOT (And oh yes, other gods would definitely believe the word of the Higher Gods – only “dark” gods have the power to lie, anyway.)

Dude, buddy, I will assure you right here and now that it definitely wouldn’t be less. Let’s hope you people never get to see that… >w>



(But you might have to wait a bit for Gerson to be in the mood for joking in the current comic hahahahhahaaaaaa)

Pal, I was probably the first to declare my shipping support for  Afterdeath 8DDDD It is super cute and has a very interesting dynamic. In saying so, I LOVE it when people make fanart of afterdeath! They are cutiepatoots <3


Lia asked me if I could translate a comic based on shounen brave! (page 2~5 in the link!)

It was really good in my opinion, so I’ll share the translations here as well. Hopefully everyone’s okay with it! :)


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Punk Series - He Takes Care of You While You're Drunk

Harry: “Are you sure you’ll be alright here… alone?” You question again, turning from your vanity. Harry lies on your bed, leg bent and foot flat against the mattress while reading a worn copy of The Picture of Dorian Grey. He looks up from the passage he’s reading, letting the book rest against his chest and he gives you an assured smile. “I’ll be fine love,” he chuckles, glancing back to the pages of his book with a grin, “besides, I don’t want to interrupt what Eleanor calls ‘The most epic bitch night of the year’” he finishes and you grin. “Well, don’t be surprised when I come home shit faced,” you warn and Harry shakes his head, finger pushing another page passed and his eyes scan the first passage on the new page. “I’ll have the trashcan ready, shall I?” He teased, groaning when the hairbrush you’d tossed makes contact with his forehead. “Yes,” you say simply, red lips pulling into a bright smile before you jump on the bed and crawl overtop him. “Don’t start something you won’t finish,” Harry half teases, half begs of you. You pull the book from the grasp of his long fingers, leaning closer to him as you let the old book drop to the hardwood floors of your bedroom. “Never, especially not when my boyfriend is so hot,” you whisper against his lips, letting the lips you’d painted red linger over his as your minty breath puffed against his softly. “Tease,” Harry groaned in annoyance once you’d pulled away without kissing him and you shrug playfully. “See you later,” you say with a wave of your fingers before you leave the apartment. Four hours later, you’ve completely forgotten your name. “I… fuck me,” you groan, slamming another tequila shot back and Eleanor grins drunkenly while clapping her hands sloppily. You’re both out on the dance floor, your friends surrounding you as everyone dances to the beat of the music blaring in the club. Eleanor is behind you, hips moving with yours with her hands above her head and drunkenly singing along to the song, which means she’s mostly slurring the words. It’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. There’s a man in front of you, hands finding your hips and pulling you along through the sea of grinding bodies and you stumble behind him. “Oi, hands off!” You stammer, swaying on the spot before large hands grip your upper arms to steady you on the sidewalk. “Y/N… come on, sober up. I can’t take you home this smashed,” a familiar voice says and you blink a few times before finally noticing Louis Tomlinson standing in front you. He’s dressed in black jeans and a white v-neck, tattoos on full display and it’s evident he’d been at the same club. You glance behind him wondering if his girlfriend is also in attendance; they’d just gotten back together and while you didn’t know Louis well enough you knew his girlfriend was stunning. “Oi, stay with me,” Louis chuckles, catching you when you tumble into his arms and your head is swimming. “Got her, they need food… lots of food,” Ed calls, and you turn with a big smile on your face. “Eddie… Eleanor, Ed is here!” You exclaim, reaching forwards to grip onto Ed’s shoulders and smash your lips to his sloppily. Ed is shocked, shell shocked and still as you kiss him. Eleanor is laughing in the background, hands clapping loudly. “Oh, you’re not Harry,” you hear her comment from behind you and turn to find her in Louis’ arms, drunk and confused as to why he wasn’t Harry. “I thought we were, kissing each other boyfriends and he’s not your boyfriend… I’m drunk,” Eleanor chuckles. “HAR… HARR… boyfriend,” you scream loudly, swinging the apartment door open and sliding into the living room. Harry is on the couch, Lord of the Rings playing in the background and he turns to you. You’ve got one hand on the doorknob, back leaning against the door jamb as you try to kick your heels off but find the task to be harder than expected and you give up. “Have a good time then?” He questions, standing while turning the TV off and you stare him down. “Eleanor thought you were Louis so she kissed him,” you mock whisper, stumbling forwards as Harry shuts the door behind you and locks it in place. “Why did she want to kiss me?” Harry wonders, following you down the hallway. He stumbles back when you spin suddenly, heels finally kicking off and landing behind him. “Because, I kissed Ed and she thought we were switching boyfriends!” You exclaim as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Harry raises an eyebrow at you. “Why were you kissing Ed?” he demands with a chuckle, watching as you lean against the wall and bend over. “Look, I’m twerking!” You exclaim, ass jiggling against the wall and while Harry is impressed with your balance seeing how drunk you are, he really wants an answer as to why you were kissing other men. “Ed’s a ginger… ginger’s are hot and I was drunk and when I get drunk I get horny and you weren’t there. You were here, reaaaadddding,” you draw out with a bored sigh, slapping a hand to wall to strike a pose and Harry rolls his eyes. “So, you kissed some other guy?” He questions and you shake your head. “Yeah, but it was Ed… he doesn’t count, you can’t get mad at me,” you demand, a drunk finger pointed in his direction before you spin and smack into the wall. “It hit me, this wall hit me! IT has to go!” You demand loudly, stumbling back into Harry’s arms as he leads you into your bedroom. “You need to sleep, and pray… pray that you sleep a hangover off,” Harry chuckles, catching the clothes you start stripping out of before you fall face first on the bed and pass out. He drops the clothes in the hamper and turns you on your side. He places a trashcan at the side of the bed and a bottle of water on the bedside table before he crawls into bed next to you. You wake up a few hours later and stumble into the bathroom to hurl and Harry is right behind you to hold your hair. He stays with you for the hour you’re in the bathroom and he helps you brush your teeth and wash your face off before he carries you back to bed. The next morning, you conveniently have no idea what he’s talking about when he questions you about your kiss with Ed.

Liam: “I’m super excited we’re all going out!” You exclaim loudly from the hotel bathroom. You have all the necessities needed for a night out spread out on the bathroom counter and Zayn gives a low whistle when he wanders into the room. “Do you really use all this?” He questions, motioning with a sweep of his arm to all the things covering the bathroom counter. “Yes, I need all of this to look like the hot girlfriend I am,” you respond, leaning closer to the mirror to properly apply your Valour false lashes and he shakes his head with a chuckle. “I don’t believe that but alright… are you almost ready? Niall texted and said everyone’s down in the lobby ready to go?” Liam questions and you pucker your hot pink lips at your reflection and nod. He stands back as you pull a short dress on and slip into your strappy wedges before he presses a kiss to your temple. “I didn’t know Andy was going to be here,” you mention after a few drinks, glancing over Liam’s shoulder to find your boyfriend’s best friend ordering himself a drink and Liam shrugs. “Why wouldn’t he have come with us? We’re all on vacation and Andy isn’t one to stay indoors when we’re going clubbing,” Liam responds, nodding his head to the bartender who was being very generous with the liquor in your drinks. A few hours later, you can feel the music pumping through your veins and you feel like everything is on fire. “You alright?” Andy questions, rounding the corner to the bathrooms to find you leaning against the wall staring down at your feet. “I think my feet are hoves… Am I still human?” You question him and Andy can’t tell if your serious or not. “I feel like I’m a horse now,” you add and he raises his eyebrows at you in amusement before he lets out a long laugh. “It’s not funny, Liam’s not gonna fuck me if I’m a horse,” you exclaim wildly, arms flailing up in the air before you smack back into the bathroom door. “Maybe you should throw up,” Andy offers, helping you into the girl’s bathroom and into the handicap stall to the amusement of the other girls. “Andy… are I a horrible person?” You question, hunched over the toilet with your hands on the toilet paper covered seat and Andy discovers your grammar is also affected by alcohol. “You are not a horrible person, why?” He questions, gathering your hair in his hands as you throw up into the toilet. “We slept together and I haven’t told Liam,” you remind him in a loud whisper and Andy chuckles. “We didn’t do anything wrong, you and Liam weren’t together. Don’t feel guilty, he’d understand if we ever told him,” Andy assures you, rubbing your back in a comforting circular motion and you nod. “I can drink more now, right?” You question and Andy chuckles. “Liam will have his hands full later,” Andy tells himself as he buys you another shot. Liam smiles from his spot in the VIP section, glad that the two of you seem to have hashed out whatever was between you both. “LIAM I’M DRUNK,” you exclaim loudly in the lobby, giggling when he tries to shush you. “I’m drunk,” you repeat in a loud whisper and Liam just shakes his head and helps you into the elevator. “You shouldn’t have continued drinking after you threw up the first time,” Liam mumbles, helping you down the hallway as you babble about nonsense. “You’re not making any sense right now, I don’t understand what you need,” Liam exclaims in frustration, hands on his hips as he watches you prance around the room. “I’m a horse, I need lots of space!” You cry, neighing loudly and Liam can’t believe this is how his night turned out. “You alright?” He questions, helping you up off the floor once you’d bounced into the couch. “I’m gonna be sick,” you exclaim and while Liam tries to hurry you into the bathroom, he fails at the task and you throw up on yourself. Liam grimaces at the sight and all but hurls you towards the toilet in the hopes you’ll manage to actually throw up in the bowl rather than on yourself again. “I think I threw up on myself,” you tell him, crinkling your nose as he stripes you from your ruined dress. He brushes your teeth and washes your face off before he helps you stand. You make it one step before you pass out and Liam rolls his eyes before carrying you to the bedroom. He stays up a few hours, seated in the chair in the corner of the room to assure that you’ll alright before he allows himself to fall asleep. When you finally wake up several hours later, you’re hoping Liam has forgotten you’d thrown up on yourself but he never mentions it and you’re thankful for that.

Niall: “I need a drink,” you exclaim upon entering the apartment you and Niall had recently purchased. Niall is at the kitchen island, a black mug in his hand and he raises an eyebrow at you. “I’ve had the worst day. We got a new nurse and she’s an utter bitch! I already hate her and I want to get smashed since I have the weekend off,” you explain, stripping out of your scrubs and Niall lets his eyes rake over your body. He smiles at the ink swirling up your rib cage in a colorful pattern of colors. “Alright, I can do that. Go ahead and shower and get ready, then we’ll leave,” he offers, smiling over the rim of his mug and you nod before lifting up on your toes to press a thankful kiss to his waiting lips. An hour or two later you’re adding the finishes touches to your look when Niall appears in the doorway of your bedroom. “Hair up?” He questions, taking in your little black dress and nude wedges. “I’m getting hammered, it’s easier to have my hair up when I throw up,” you explain, passing him your lipstick case and a bottle of Tylenol for him to store in the pockets of his black skinnies. “Good thing I bought you that phone case, it’ll come in handy tonight so you can keep all your things together,” Niall states, helping you into the car and you give him a smile because by taking his own Land Rover that means he has no plans of drinking. “Good thing my boyfriend’s so smart,” you grin, leaning into the kiss he plants on your cheek. “The lads are gonna meet us there, I pulled out all the fun people for this night,” Niall tells you, taking your hand in his as he leads you into the dark club once you’ve bypassed the long line because of course Niall knows the bouncer. By the time the rest of Niall’s friends arrive you’re already drunk because a few of Niall’s clients had been at the club and had bought you both round after round of shots. “Love you babe,” Niall murmurs against your temple, shaking hands with Zayn and Louis once they arrive. “She’s really drunk mate,” Louis comments, tipping the beer bottle against his lips to chug the last bit before he buys himself another shot of tequila. “She’s had a rough week at work, apparently the new nurse is a cunt so here we are,” Niall explains, sweeping his arm around to show off the club and Zayn chuckles. “She’s dancing with some dude,” Louis’ girlfriend giggles before she sobers up for a moment to scrunch her face up. “This guy’s an asshole actually, Louis’ trying to fight him because he’s being inappropriate with Y/N,” she finishes and Niall rolls his eyes before he scans the room. He finds Louis easily, watching the way he’s in the guy’s face before he gives the guy a hard shove and pulls you away. “Hey, it’s my boyfriend,” you exclaim with a giggle, clapping your hands gleefully before stumbling into his lap. “Louis kicked some guys ass because the guy touched my boob… does that mean my boobs aren’t touch-worthy?” You question sadly, tugging on the collar of his button down before tracing some of his exposed tattoos with your finger. “Your boobs are very touch-worthy but only to me,” Niall chuckles, helping you to stand before he stands himself. “Are you ready to go then? You need food and water and then more food. If I feed you enough maybe you won’t get hungover,” Niall offers, taking your hand in his to help you from the club after bidding goodbye to your friends. An hour later you’re shoving your face full of Nando’s and Niall glances around. “Babe, let’s take some of this with us, I think they’re trying to close,” he states and you pout. “We’ll take it home, you can have some later on, ” Niall promises. He’s just pulled into the driveway of the expensive townhouse he’d purchased for the both of you before you’re flinging the door open and throwing up into the bushes. “Lovely,” Niall comments, rounding the car to help you into the house and up the stairs. “Niall, I’m gonna be sick,” you mumble loudly, staring down the moving hardwood floors before you vomit. “Oh shit,” Niall curses, grabbing the trashcan to shove under your chin but the damage as already been done. He strips you from your vomit covered clothes and helps you into the shower to wash you off before he helps you into your sleep clothes. “I’m sorry,” you mumble from the bed, watching as he cleans up the mess on the hardwood and he chuckles. “Don’t worry about it, I had already prepared myself for this when you said you wanted to go out. Honestly, it’s not that bad,” he reassures you, spraying a generous amount of Febreze to cover the odor before he climbs into bed beside you. “Shower, please,” you beg, holding your nose against the smell of him and he shrugs. By the time he climbs back into bed, you’ve passed out on your side with your head leaning towards the trashcan.

Louis: “Where’s Harry?” You question the music producer’s girlfriend at the bar. “Early flight to New York,” she explains of his absence. “Well it’s great to see you again!” You tell her as you grab the drinks you had ordered for Louis and yourself. She smiles, “You too.” You leave the bar as her and Eleanor down another shot, clearly having just started on their drinking mission for the night. “Thanks babe,” Louis says as you hand him his beer. You crawl onto the couch and under his arm to begin sipping at your drink. “She said Harry had an early flight,” you tell him seeing as he wanted to know where his friend was. “You know he’s probably at home reading a book and not even sleeping,” he says a few minutes later. “You’re probably right,” you answer, finishing up your drink rather quickly. “Another one?” A voice asks from behind you. You turn around and smile at Liam’s familiar face. “Yes please,” you respond, setting the empty glass on the table at your feet. Once Liam approaches, you get up from the couch and take your drink to the dance floor, finding the rest of the girls. “HEY!” They all drunkenly shout as you make your way into the group. You smile and nod your head to the beat of the music, lifting your glass above your head as if you wanted to cheers the DJ for his music choices. You weren’t as gone as the rest of them, but you knew it wouldn’t be long until you were. “Want to go to the bar?” Zayn’s girlfriend asks, pointing out your empty glass. You nod and smile and the two of you make your way off of the crowded dance floor, leaving the rest of the girls to enjoy their moment. “What’d you have babe?” The bartender asks as soon as you sit down. “Long Island,” you answer. He nods and walks away. “Glad they’re having a great time,” you point out to your company. “Yeah, I think we all needed a night out together. Things have been getting pretty intense these last few months.” “No kidding,” you respond. “Thank you,” you tell the bartender once he comes back with a full glass. The two of you sit at the bar and talk until you’re feeling just as happy as the rest of the girls. “I gotta go to the bathroom….be…right back,” you say, sliding down out of the seat and trying to do the sober walk to the bathroom. You notice Andy and Liam’s girlfriend walking out of the bathroom as you make your way in, that must have been an interesting encounter. Where you supposed to know they slept together? Probably not , but hey, word gets around. You walk back out the bathroom, having touched up your make-up and hair to find Harry’s girlfriend kissing Ed. Not the oddest thing you have ever seen her do, but she would surely be explaining this to Harry once she got home. Louis was right beside her so you didn’t feel it necessary to rush over to her. You return to the bar and work on glass number six. Your laughter gets louder and you’re so caught up in the happiest conversation you’ve ever had you don’t even see Eleanor kissing Louis back at the couches. This of course is only in Eleanor’s best interest because in your state it is hard to tell how you would react. Not as lightly as Harry will take his girlfriend kissing his best friend that’s for sure. A light hand rests on your shoulder a few moments later and you turn to see Louis’s blurry face. “Heyyy,” you say, very pleased to see him once more. “You ready to go?” You nod your head and turn back to your drink, downing the rest before almost falling out of the chair. “Bye babe! I will call you! You right there, I’ll call you,” you tell Zayn’s girlfriend, poking your finger into her nose as she remains at the bar with a smile, Zayn quickly taking your place beside her. “We have to drop Harry’s girl off with him before going home,” Louis tells you, guiding you across the floor with his arm gripped around your waist. “Issshe uhkay? I saw her kissin on not Harry earlier.” Louis laughs. “You’re right that wasn’t Harry, but she’s fine. She’s in the car waiting so we have to go.” He tries his best to quicken up your pace but he realizes your stilettos aren’t having it. He trusted you in the car knowing you could at least hold your alcohol until you were home, her on the other hand not so much. Once the three of you were on the road he immediately regretted agreeing to dropping her off. The two of you were as loud as possible singing over top of “All of Me” by John Legend as it played on the radio. “Here we are,” he says in relief as he pulls into the apartment complex. “I’ll…take it from here,” she says from the backseat. “Are you sure?” He questions as he watches her stumble out of the car. “Uh huh!” She says as chipper as possible. He waits until she makes it into the building and then sends Harry a text to let her know she should be on her way up. “Alright, now to get you home,” he says turning to you. He takes your hand as you slowly rest your head on his shoulder.

Zayn: “No, no , no,” Zayn says as he grabs you before you slide down into the floor of the hotel elevator. “I’ma fine,” you tell him as he pulls you into his side. “Yes of course you are, I’m just here to make sure you wander into our room, and not someone else’s.” “Ha. Ha. Ha,” you mock, resting your head on his shoulder as you wait for the doors to open. The elevator dings and the doors open to reveal Liam waiting to go down to the lobby. “Hey man,” Zayn greets him. “Everything alright?” He continues, acknowledging Liam’s tired face. “Let’s just say I’ve got one of those in my room and she just passed out for the night,” he responds, nodding over to you. “HEY!” You say in offence. “You know it’s the truth,” Liam tells you. You let your eyes fall shut and collapse into Zayn’s arms. He pulls you up off of the ground and out of the elevator. “Good luck,” Liam says taking his place in the elevator. Zayn nods and carries you down the hall to the hotel room. He carefully slides the key in the door and turns on the minimal amount of light needed for him to coexist in the room with you knowing you hated having lights on when you had been drinking. He slowly places you down on the bed, only pulling one cover over you so you could easily get out if you had to rush to the bathroom. “Hey, yeah, can I get some bottles of water and do you all have Tylenol?” He asks, calling down to room service for help in assisting the hangover you would surely have in the morning. “And can I get a pepperoni pizza and some chocolate chip cookies,” he adds on, knowing he will be up for a while. Nearly a half hours passes before Zayn’s room service arrives. But just as soon as the room fills up with the smell of pizza and cookies you immediately wake up. “What is that?” You question him, looking at the covered dish. “Pizza and cookies,” he answers. “What did you get me?” You counter. “I didn’t think you wanted anything, you were passed out not even a minute ago. “Call and get me something,” you whine, your head falling back down onto the pillow. He sighs, knowing you won’t be eating anything he orders but he picks up the phone and orders you something nonetheless. “Hi, can I get another pizza? Just cheese this time and some more cookies.” “Do you have white chocolate and raspberry?” “Great.” “Thank you.” “You know you aren’t going to eat any of that,” He says knowing you hadn’t passed out again. “Yes I will,” you argue. He chuckles and shakes his head. It takes another half hour for the second round of food to be delivered. Your eyes shoot open and get up out of the bed before Zayn and open the door. “Yes?” You question the waiter at the door. “You ordered more food,” he responds slightly confused. “Uh, no I didn’t,” you counter, looking at him and then looking down at the cart he had been pushing. “What’s under here anyways?” You question, lifting up the covers on the plates. “Um, what you ordered?” “No! I didn’t order this!” You shout. “Alright,” you hear from inside of the room. “I was going to let you handle this but you clearly can’t,” Zayn says approaching the two of you. “Did you order this?” You ask him. “Yes,” he answers, taking the receipt from the waiter’s hand and signing it. “Thanks man, sorry about the confusion,” he laments before allowing the cart to be pushed into the room. “Why do we need more food?” You ask slowly, sitting down on the bed, your eyes starting to blur. “Because I am hungry,” he lies, knowing you weren’t going to remember making him order you something which would just turn into an argument. “Oh, well enjoy,” you tell him. “Are those white chocolate and raspberry cookies?” You questions with a sluggish smile. He nods. “Those are my favorite,” you respond, curling back into the bed and falling silent once more. 

Love and Methods Pt. 3; Sherlock x Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Requested by Anon:

God, both parts of Love and Method are brilliant!!! Could you make another one where the reader meets Mycroft and he’s so surprised that Sherlock has a girlfriend? Could you make it funny as well, please? Love ya, tnx <3

Love and methods part3? Maybe this time Sherlock prepares himself and actually makes something romantic?..

Changed the requests slightly but hope you still enjoy it!! I even pulled out Tolstoy for this one!

“Mycroft I need your help,” Sherlock pleaded with his brother over the phone. “I really love her and I could use your advice.” He was met with complete silence as he had been for the past four minutes or so as Mycroft tried to process this information. “Mycroft?”

Back at his office, Mycroft stared off in a corner still not quite comprehending the fact that Sherlock was in love. “Wait, sorry. What was that?”

Keep reading

DAY 2452

Jalsa, Mumbai            Jan ½,  2015           Thu/Fri  1:01 am

The joy of filling in the fresh day and date and year .. it used to be a big number in school or when in any educational environ .. the black board the chalk the top of the note book the beginning of an essay the filling up of the ledger for attendance .. just ..

Any news that is new was a moment of great interest and childish joy .. “ ok … see you next year !” on the 31st night or ‘I shall reply later, perhaps next year !“ ….

Innocent growing up comments within the group you moved about in .. and today .. its just another day another year .. another …

Age makes that difference and it does begin to tell you that 'seen that done that’ is not a mere adage or comment … it actually does feel that way ..

But whatever be the circumstance, each moment of life is filled with the unknown .. and those that profess they know the unknown, are either messengers from above, which would be hard to believe, or are merely on a commercial spree .. problem is we as a race are so vulnerable to what the next holds for us .. and these teachings are popular … each magazine, paper, channel has that hour or page or column reserved for the predictions of the day year month, minute .. colors to wear, food to eat, documents to sign, purchases to be made, investments to be taken, house to be moved in to, joining dtae of your job or start ups for film or venture to be considered … just so many things that suddenly take up our attention and guidance ..

This mornings press for example had huge coverage of what the year holds for each astrological zodiacal chinese calendar of janam patri fame that told us all in no uncertain terms what to expect each day and month of the new year 2015 … 

Numerology and number add ups .. which good and which bad .. which to move away from which to envelope, who to envelope it with, and who to discard because their numbers were abjectly not those that needed your attention … and I do know of some that take every second of their lives in similar fashion .. they continuously keep adding up, and measure each word they speak they walk or they communicate to another and judge and assuage what the other said and how it would numerically affect them !!

However once said heard or spoken off - they remain in our minds, and abruptly throw themselves up on sudden occasions ..

'So what did you say was my flight number .. hmmand my seat is what .. what is the gate and name of pilot please .. numbers numbers calculating .. 4+6+3, minus the 8 and the 9 gives us  .. oh … and the take off time .. right .. how many did you say were the passengers on the flight .. 108 .. hmm .. and crew .. ok so that makes it … nananananahhh .. get off the plane .. book me another one ..!!!

Yet no matter what we may believe in or disapprove .. those thoughts and the desire remains altogether .. we do visit that last zodiac column in the daily news paper, we do stop fiddling for  while on the remote to listen in to that appropriately dressed gentleman or woman predicting with suitable back ground score and the visuals of the universe spinning about in varied colors and hues, what today or tomorrow or the coming days shall hold for you .. 

And heaven help us if by some prediction luck one of them were to come true … you my dears are smitten for life and belief .. !!

So looking at the numbers of the 2015 and my birthdate and the year of my presence in the world at the latitude and longitudinal positioning and measuring the value of the stars that linked themselves in this galactic world, along with the time that appears on the top righthand corner of this laptop ..

IT IS TIME to bed ..

Good night and well … sleep … 

Sleep !!

Put up a joke I got on the sms today, the 1st of January :

” I have now realised first-hand, that the cause for a hangover is, sleep ! I was fine till 4am last night !!!!!! “

….. and Shameera ,, diid not get it .. !!

Amitabh Bachchan

Okay.. let me educate some of yall on 'Home' aka 'The true meaning of Smekday' real quick

Because some of ya’ll don’t even know what your talking about, and you won’t know unless you understand where it originated from.

Here we go.

Let’s start with the book.

This book (written and illustrated by Adam Rex) is about an 11 year old girl named Gratuity Tucci aka Tip who lives with her Mom, Lucy Tucci (nothing is said about her father.. all we know is that he’s not there but she doesn’t care because she has a mother who loves her very much) and her cat. Tip is mixed. Her Mom is Italian (and her father was black).

It’s written as if Tip herself wrote it. She is writing an essay about ‘Smek Day’ which was the day the alien (Boov) arrived to Earth (on Christmas Day renamed ‘Smek day’ to honour Captain Smek aka leader of the Boov) to be put into the committee’s time capsule to be opened in 100 years.

On ‘Moving Day’ (when the humans are sent to be relocated to Florida which was June 2014. this is also where the book begins) Tip’s mother gets taken by the aliens and she (Tip) did not want to be transported by the Boov so she must drive there (yes. drive. She is 11 and she gon drive because would a having license really matter when the earth is being taken over by aliens?) with her cat Pig (which in the book is a female) to Florida.

That’s when she befriends another Boov named J.LO. who ‘pimps her ride’ basically and he goes with her to find her mom.

BUT THEN when they get to Florida it turns out that the Boov love oranges so they again relocate the humans to Arizona.

throughout the journey the trouble-maker boov J.LO accidentally summons the Boov’s enemies the Gorg.. and well chiz happens


Now for the movie.. shall we?

For the most part (of what I know from the trailer and reading about it) is that it pretty much follows the book.


They did make some changes. 
EDIT: They did make a lot of changes. Things are very different & not just design or name wise..

The changes I’m aware of is that they aged her up one year, she is 12.

They also changed J.LO’s name, now known as ‘Oh.’
Also, I believe they changed the cat’s gender to male, as Tip and Oh referred to the feline as a he (“He’s my pet!” and “Is he going to explode!?”)

As for the plot, it is very much alike to the book. She runs from the Boov, befriends a Boov, flies/drives across the world with a Boov, Boov accidentally brings in more trouble.. and etc..
EDIT: Of course this is a very vague description, I do believe that DreamWorks changed the plot a bit (perhaps even more than a little). And whatever’s ganna be goin down in the film HOME won’t exactly be aligned with the book. That’s why is “inspired” by the book. The base however; still remains, Boov and Tip go to find Tip’s mom, and save the world.

I imagine we’re ganna learn more about the movie as it’s release day approaches..
They did keep her nationality, and the fact that she is mixed. Which I think is totally great on DreamWorks’ part.

But I just noticed a lot of you guys don’t know about Tip and her story soo…

I’m super excited and I’m getting pretty passionate about this movie because I’ve been waiting for a film like this as long as I can remember and it’s happening so I’m so freaking thankful for Dreamworks and this film. It’s ganna be great.

that is all.

thank you.


Sansa & Petyr : A Storm of Swords
Reminder that in the book version Petyr helped her build her Winterfell snow castle. Get it? He literally helped her build Winterfell.

…His hands were deft and sure, and before long he had a crisscrossing latticework of twigs, very like the one that roofed the glass gardens of Winterfell. “We will need to imagine the glass, to be sure.”
“This is just right,” she said.
He touched her face. “And so is that.”
Sansa did not understand. “And so is what?”
“Your smile, my lady. Shall I make another one for you?”
“If you would.”
“Nothing could please me more.”

S3 E2 Recap: Murder and the Maiden

S3 E2 Murder and the Maiden Recap

I forgot how much this was going to hurt. Actually, my euphoria from the first episode likely anesthetized my brain for the first twenty minutes, which were filled with fantastic banter between our two favorite detectives and more angst between their young proteges. Even when Group Captain Compton made his first appearance, I wasn’t that bothered. After all, there can be no doubt that Phryne knows that Jack’s jealousy is his weakest point. Alas, I forgot how far a provoked Phryne Fisher will go to make a point - if only to herself.

Themes: I’m going with priorities or allegiances if you like. You’ve got the young aviatrix, whose allegiance to the Air Force is deeper than that to her lover; Dot whose need and desire to do her job overpower her need to soothe her fiance’s discomfort - even daring to do the thing that terrifies her the most to prove to him that she can and will if it is part of her duties and Compton who puts his responsibilities to the RAAF first instead of being honest with his old friend. In *each* of these scenarios, we have a person whose commitment to doing their job far outweighs their personal (romantic) feelings.
In the cases of Phryne and Jack, it’s far more complicated and the pendulum swings both ways, each at times placing the job above and then placing their feelings above.

We begin the episode with a young woman’s demise and it looks fairly brutal by all accounts. Cut to Phryne and Dot at the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) airfield where we meet Group Captain Compton, who is clearly a dark horse from Phryne’s past and a pretty important guy in the RAAF, what with Group Captain being pretty high up the chain in terms of rank. We know we’re being set up already with the introduction of the motorcycle. Phryne’s drawn to the machine like a moth to a flame and wastes no time daring Compton to beat their last land speed record. I can’t help compare his all-too-smooth “Hold on tight” and her “If you insist” retort to the last time we saw her on a similar vehicle. “Sorry, Jack! I’m afraid I’m going to have to touch you.” Quite the difference. Compton is smooth, polished - almost a little smarmy - and very happy to take the lead as opposed to Jack who is entirely more subtle and very cautious about the dangerous nature of physical contact with Miss Fisher.

Meanwhile, Constable Collins and the Inspector are investigating the young woman’s death - which just so happened to take place yards beyond the RAAF’s borders. Cheers to Hugh for finding the “serious boot print.” Which leads us to the first of many lovely Jack growls in this episode, “And where around here would we find a serious pair of boots?” Dot is being entertained by an older man by the name of Graves who is retired but serving in some kind of consulting capacity to the Group Captain. He waxes on about the joys of flying and plants the seed that Dot could catch a glimpse of heaven beyond the clouds. I always feel that way when I look out of my window seat. From the look in her eye later on in the episode, I think Dot will get to experience it at some point in her lifetime.

We learn why Phryne has been summoned to the airfield in the first place - to look into the disappearance of one of Compton’s pilots, James Manning. Of course, this turns out to be a bit of a red herring by Compton - one which will ultimately cost him his place in the Phryne Fisher Reminiscing Club. Then, the Inspector turns up and, used to Phryne being one step ahead, assumes she is there because of the murder. But it comes as a shock to her and blindsides Jack. “You didn’t know?” he asks. “No,” she replies awkwardly. “Um, Compton and I are old friends.” Cue Jack’s hackles - which are further raised when Compton issues a warning using very familiar terms, “Phryne-”. Jack knows a dismissal when he hears one but, leaves a breadcrumb trail for Miss Fisher, a not so subtle invitation to the Morgue.

But, now it’s Phryne using familiar terms, telling Compton she won’t protect the RAAF, “if it stands between Jack and bringing a murderer to justice.” It’s important to note several things here: 1) Phryne NEVER uses Compton’s first name. I didn’t even remember what it was (it’s Lyle); 2) She neither addresses nor refers to the Inspector by his title in front of Compton. That is unusual. In front of others - especially in a professional setting, she refers to him as Inspector Robinson. But with Compton, he is always “Jack.” Always familiar; 3) Phryne doesn’t say she won’t keep Compton’s secrets if the secrets will stop them from bringing a murderer to justice - she says if the secrets stand between JACK and bringing a murderer to justice. Despite what Jack assumes later, she will not keep the truth from him no matter what Compton asks of her. She makes no bones about the fact that she will honour both her commitment to her detective work and her commitment to Jack as a colleague and a friend over protecting whatever Compton is hiding.

Outside, Hugh spots Dot talking to Mr. Graves and shades of wise-cracking duck impersonators creep under his skin. Hugh gets protective and Dot immediately lashes out, threatening to go up in a plane if she has to - if only to get Hugh’s goat. Dot does not like having her priorities managed for her. Nor does she fancy being told what she can and can’t do - even if it’s the truth. Miss Fisher is rubbing off more than we ever expected. Or perhaps that’s simply human nature. Once Dot’s independent streak was praised and nurtured, it’s hard to go back to being the quiet mouse we met in the first minutes of the series opener. The Inspector soon joins the scene and, lo and behold, so does Miss Fisher. “Jack, wait. You know I can’t resist a murder, if it is a murder.” Of course he does - I’d wager that he was counting on it. Since when has Jack ever delivered an invitation succinctly as “I’ll be at the Morgue, Miss Fisher,”?

Also worth noting is Phryne’s, “Jack, wait.” This time it’s rather benign, he invited her along after all and she wants to catch up. But she uttered the same words last episode after his “parade” speech and stopped him walking out of her parlour and here she is saying it again - not for the last time.

OK, to the new Morgue (which I still hate) and Mac (whom I still adore). I love catching glimpses of her looking at these two idiots as they dance around the obvious. The three of them piece together what they know. Phryne suspects the deceased girl and her missing pilot were lovers based on the pilot’s service number etched into a key found by her body, eliciting a reaction from Jack that reads far more wistful than jealous. “Or maybe just ‘old friends’,” he replies, repeating the words she used to describe her relationship with Compton. It was sad, really, his expression in that moment. There is so much bubbling under that calm demeanor. You can see his depths in those eyes. Just lovely. He’s no longer talking about the victim. His priorities shift between solving the murder and his feelings, intent on discovering what Phryne’s relationship was/is to Compton. He isn’t going to come right out and ask her to explain but she does anyway because she knows Jack will figure it out eventually and suspect the worst until he does. I don’t see it as kowtowing on her part but, rather, a regard or respect for him to go ahead and address it - prioritizing.

“I met Compton back in England at the end of the war. I flew a couple of low-key missions with him, that’s all.” Then, she goes right back to identifying the dead girl’s possessions, a lighter and a cigarette. We don’t hear Phryne talk much about her time in the war but, no doubt, she and Jack have shared bits and pieces over time and whiskey. Though probably just shards. It peaks Jack’s attention, too. “Missions… as in Intelligence?” he asks. “Not officially,” she answers. So, yes. Intelligence. Don’t forget that in “The Blood of Juana the Mad,” Phryne knew the letters “PLP” stood for “pulp” which was the code word used for assassination. (I remember being surprised back then that Jack didn’t question her knowledge of this further but, I supposed he had bigger fish to fry at the time.) Following Phryne’s lead back to the girl, Jack pulls out his scrap of paper he found with the body and reads the words that sound like a love letter to Phryne, “flight…earth…eyes turned skyward…have been…and there will always…long.”

“Very literary,” she claims. “And very aeronautical,” he adds. Let’s add “aeronautical” to the list of otherwise benign words that now make me weak in the knees, shall we? (Semi-parasitic, anyone?) Damn you and that voice, Nathan!

But the pull of Phryne’s revelation is too great and Jack uses very literary terms to describe his theory, “So Captain Courageous is entrusting Mata Hari with another secret mission.” I actually guffawed at this. What a perfect comparison for both figures! Compton as Captain Courageous and Phryne as Mata Hari - flying covert missions at the end of the war and here, again, investigating something the Group Captain obviously wants kept quiet. “Captains Courageous” was surely a book Jack had read and when referring to a person in the singular as he did, it usually signifies a brave leader (though Jack is using it a bit snidely in this case) and I can’t help but think that he is feeling a bit outranked by Group Captain Compton, in more ways than one. Phryne as Mata Hari (as opposed to Cleopatra - but no less enticing) is perfection what with her penchant for exotic dancing and manipulating men - not to mention the implications of spy during the war (albeit MH spied for Germany). This image will continue to repeat itself throughout the episode.

Phryne’s first instinct is to deny Jack’s claim but, he’s right and she knows he knows it. I appreciate that she tries to put his worry to rest all the same, “Compton was a long time ago, Jack. And, it wasn’t like that. Well, yes it was. But, you know what it’s like to think life is fleeting and you might die at any moment.” Compton is her past, which implies that Jack is her present… perhaps even future. But, we all know how Phryne’s past comes back to visit her regularly. And, let’s be honest, “old friends” is now pretty much a euphemism for “lovers.” And Jack *has* been in that situation with her plenty of times and it’s never capitulated in a moment of passion between them - only a moment of devastating realization. Not surprisingly, it’s Mac who sasses back and not Jack. Instead, he addresses Mac and exits, stage left.

Back in St. Kilda, Dot’s on the case along with Cec and Bert - who will be needed for their commo knowledge and connections. Always love the banter between Bert & Miss Fisher - there’s such lovely chemistry between the entire cast and I don’t say it often enough. Two delightful pieces of information come out of this conversation: that Bert has a lady friend and that Phryne is particularly partial to Herminie Cadolle lingerie. OK fic writers, that was a GIFT! Cadolle basically invented the bra and even though she died in 1926, the house bearing her name continued to thrive - it’s actually still in business. One other thing: besides the royalty at the time, Cadolle’s most famous customer was - none other than (yes, you guessed it) - Mata Hari.

Blah, blah, blah. Phryne has a chat with the head commie in charge at the European club, a man named Rupert Higgins, who clearly doesn’t mind the capitalist menace when she looks like Phyrne Fisher - though I suppose having Bert vouch for you is about the highest praise one could get in a place like this. Phryne suspects the union to be behind the RAAF’s sabotaged plane and possibly the missing airman’s demise. She ruffles some feathers and meets Bert’s crush, a Russian seamstress and coat check girl who knew the woman currently lying in Mac’s morgue and just happened to be fixing her coat.

The coat is brought to the Police as evidence and needs to be inspected by an expert. I love how Jack has zero problem ceding to Dot in this matter - it was never even a question. In the last episode, we saw how Jack more or less put Dot on equal investigative footing as Phryne and here he is, giving her free rein to state’s evidence. Jack has a high regard for Dot’s abilities without all the baggage that we see Hugh having to carry. Of course, Jack has plenty of baggage of his own to unpack and it has nothing to do with Dot. Then, we are treated to some spectacular banter.

Phryne teases the Inspector with evidence that she is going to withhold until he can show her that he’s willing to “play nicely.” Instead of giving in to her game, he gives her shit instead, “Why aren’t you at the RAAF, wing walking or something?” Effing fantastic Jack! Phryne wasn’t willing to give him points for that, but I am! The wing walking may have been a shout out to the Kerry Greenwood book “Flying Too High,” in which the literary Phryne does just that. But, I don’t look a gift Jack in the mouth. Bring the sass, Inspector! BRING IT! He then proceeds to flaunt what his own very sharp investigative skills have turned up. And it just happens to be that they arrived at the same conclusion - Rupert Higgins the chief red ragger from the European Club. Phryne is a little more than impressed. I don’t think she takes for granted just *how* good Jack is at his job but I do think she forgets sometimes and I love it when he reminds her. Next, he chides her for not getting more information from the missing airman’s file and the priority pendulum swings once again away from the case and toward she and Compton.

“You know,” she tells Jack after he winces at the mention of the other man’s name, “You and Compton are very similar, Jack. I think you’d like him."   "I don’t think one thing necessarily follows the other,” he retorts cheekily - but wisely. He’s not keen on any man who has “known” Phryne in the way that he has  *as of yet* not - let alone a man she claims is “similar” to him. And not a man who threatens his authority. Nope. Nope. Nope. Not going to like him.Phryne concedes the point, awarding him full marks and shares the evidence pulled from her décolletage, because of course, which Jack recognizes as the post mark from the love letter.

At the desk, Hugh and Dot aren’t playing too nicely themselves. Poor Hugh. Wait. Did he just suggest that Dot sod the responsibilities to her job and concentrate on setting a wedding date instead. I take it back. Hugh can suck it. His priorities are clearly involve Dot denying her own - and our Dottie’s not going to stand for that. Have fun at the pie cart, Hugh, while your fiancé is off solving the murder. Naturally, Hugh has to take his frustration out on the Inspector and Miss Fisher by way of some very bad timing.

Did you all see how close Jack and Phryne were just before Hugh interrupted? I swear, they are just torturing us with Phryne leaning over his desk like that, inches away from him. Where was his other hand, by the way? Was it coming close to steadying her? Look at the look on her face when the door opens. That is a guilty expression if I ever saw one - whether guilty for being caught intentionally torturing the Inspector or guilty for being ready to act on the urges that were so obviously building between them - we’ll never know. Argh! Hugh! At least you made me laugh at your incredulous expression for having to find a tall airman. The heat continues to build as the detectives attempt to enter the base.

Apparently, the Inspector is persona non grata as the sentry says that only Miss Fisher can enter. Another act of subjugation by Compton against Jack. But, Phryne uses her feminine wiles to get Jack in under the guise that he is her fiancé - who she needs for protection in such an overwhelmingly masculine environment. LOL! But Jack gets to enjoy the fruits of this deception which include Phryne covering his hand with hers and snaking her other across his lap and around his knee, squeezing it to signal him to hit the gas. It only gets better from there. Next thing we know, he’s giving her a leg up (a la Bert in Cocaine Blues) in order to break into an office on base. Unfortunately we don’t get to see her climb him like a tree - but that’s why we have imaginations (and fan fic), people! Though they were kind enough to let us bear witness to one of the cheekiest lines we’ve ever heard from our dour Inspector.

“Admit it, Jack,” she cajoles while pulling herself up, “Being a woman definitely has its assets.” She’s bragging about her ability to play both sides of the female coin to her advantage, femme fatale and helpless woman in need (“because I’m a woman alone, newly arrived, in a dangerous town.”) But Jack ain’t talking about her game when he says, “Well, I appreciate your assets. Now, if we could hurry up this break-in.” Oh my god. Jack actually admits with words that he has, not only looked at but, considered her many “assets.” Blessed be! While Jack has always praised her intelligence and ingenuity, this is the first time he clearly compliments her physicality. No doubt he finds her beautiful and alluring - but who doesn’t? And so, to say this feels cheap. Instead, his words are able to convey a depth to his affection that definitely includes these things without precluding the rest of what makes Phryne, Phryne.

It only gets more amusing as he attempts to hand her back her purse and she refuses to take it and Jack looks like one of those husbands at the mall, holding all their wife’s bags. LOL! Another dig about Compton and some more bickering between them. “Must you always be so contrary?” Phryne asks him after she claims the third lock she tried was a charm. He reminds her it was the fourth. And Phryne’s is a fair point - and not just in talking about the lockers. The verbal sparring is their version of foreplay but, it can also lead the Inspector into trouble thanks to his dramatic nature. The contents of the locker reveal some evidence that link the missing airman, Manning, to Lt. Willis Jones - who also just happens to own the boot that left the mark next to the dead girl’s body. A photograph that shows the two men were at the least, very close friends. 

Compton arrives on the scene, tipped off by his guard and is none to happy with the detectives - knowing they obtained the photo by stealth. Phryne floats her idea of what may have happened, a love triangle: both men were in love with the girl and Jones kills both the girl and his competition, “Two men, one woman. It has been known to lead to conflict.” The implications are not lost on either of the two men standing beside her. But Compton isn’t hearing any of it. He marks his territory and tells Jack to take a flying leap. And Jack is NOT happy. He does not like having his authority marginalized. Remember his outrage when Sanderson turned his case over to O'Shaughnessy? That was nothing compared to this. But there is nothing he can do - he’s impotent in the face the evidence (lack thereof) and a jurisdiction that he cannot take over. He tilts his head to Phryne as if to say, “Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” but then Compton calls her back - using her first name once again and this time, making it clear that what he needs to discuss is a “personal matter.”

Compton’s choice of words are very much intentional. He frames like it’s a personal matter between he and Phryne - this is partly so the Inspector will leave without her and partly to piss the Inspector off even more because Compton’s got the measure of the two of them and he’s feeling a bit jealous himself. The prick. But then we learn the real reason he wanted Jack to go. It was a personal matter between two of his men. Compton reveals to Phryne that he believed the two pilots, Jones & Manning, to be in a homosexual relationship and whether to protect them, himself or the RAAF, he does not want it getting out. He has no idea what kind of man the Inspector is and justifiably doesn’t trust to share that sensitive information. But he does end up giving Phryne free rein and she finds some damning evidence in the process - a cigarette packet in Jones’ desk that Mac confirms contained the poison that killed the girl.

Meanwhile, Hugh and Dot have another row because he is too proud to accept her help in narrowing down the cities where the postmark could be from. “Stick to the whole of Australia then, Hugh.” I couldn’t have been the only one cheering Dot on? Could I have? No, I didn’t think so.

Jack gets to show off a bit of knowledge again with regard to the origin of the poison, ricin, and he explains that it was being experimented with as a chemical weapon during the war until it was banned by the Hague. The detectives then head over to City South where Hugh has found he identity of the dead woman. Virginia “Ginny” Forbes who clearly knew the missing airman, Manning based on their shared histories. It’s clear that Phyrne has shared what Compton told her about the two men potentially being lovers - which should say A LOT. She is keeping nothing from Jack at this point, sharing every scrap of information despite the fact that Compton doesn’t want her to. Her allegiance remains true to Jack and the job at hand.

But, Jack stubbornly doesn’t see it that way. Yes, Jack should understand why Compton wants to keep the men’s dalliance discreet - after all, he has broken laws to cover up the romantic entanglements of Charlie Freeman. But, as Phryne says, he is determined to hate Compton and make this a personal matter. In Jack’s defense, it IS Compton who keeps referring to the matter as personal. But Jack escalates matters and things get ugly, “I don’t understand why you have to dance to his tune!” Because Jack cannot see that Phryne has already aligned herself with him. How could he? She stayed behind to discuss Compton’s personal matter when he was summarily dismissed from the premises. And even though she shared what she learned, it’s clear that there is a bond between she and Compton - one which he does not share with her. He feels threatened on both a personal and professional level and that’s not a good combination for our Detective Inspector. But, the accusation was leveled and Phryne takes no shit from anyone - and certainly not a man who thinks he (or anyone else) has a say in what she does. Her allegiance is, above all, to herself.

Of course, Hugh has to interrupt in that precise moment with an urgent message from you-know-who. Now she goes and this time, she does it knowing just how much it will hurt him. “I dance to no one’s tune, Inspector,” she says icily - pointedly not calling him “Jack” for the first time this episode - as she turns tail and heads in the direction of another man. The best I can say is, at least he didn’t get drunk this time. He immediately regrets his words, his hand flying to his forehead.

Blah, blah, commos, blah, blah, Bert’s Russian girlfriend. Not impressed - he can do better. But we learn that she’s got something in her possession that red ragger Higgins doesn’t want her to have - likely connected with his pending sedition charges. I love that they gave Bert his own plot line - I just wish it had been more interesting.

Back to Compton, who got Phryne back to talk about the evidence she found. Could had been done over a phone call but, he doesn’t like the thought that, when pressed for her affection, she might chose Jack over him and so demands her presence. Then he makes a dig about “your [her] Inspector.” “Don’t you start, Compton,” she warns, “You two can squabble over demarcation. I’m interested in the big picture.” But, it’s not just demarcation of jurisdiction they’re squabbling over, is it? No. They’re in a pissing contest to see who has the most sway over Phryne. “Hmm,” says Compton, playing into this exact idea. “And how does Jack fit into your big picture? He’s not your usual style.” Jealousy with a side of aloofness, followed by a veiled insult. I can’t stand this guy. Fortunately, Phryne doesn’t take the bait, claiming that she’s “remarkable versatile.” She doesn’t deny that Jack *is* part of her big picture.
“Ahh, so I’m right about Jack,” he teases.
He knows her well enough that needling her about a potential commitment is best way to get under her skin. Why isn’t she getting mad at him for prying into her love life?  It’s been 10 years since she’s seen this flyboy. Shouldn’t she be indignant over his line of questioning? Perhaps it’s because he is putting on the air of seemingly not to care - but rather asking out of amused interest. But it seems like Compton cares to me - and not the way Jack cares because Jack is in love with her. Compton just doesn’t like seeing another man with his prize - his Mata Hari. Though, perhaps like Jack, I’m determined to make this a personal matter.

What Phryne says next by way of explanation was like a punch to the gut, “Too much ballast for lift off."   "Yours or his?” Compton asks, referring to the weight that’s keeping the two detectives earth-bound.

In the most honest words she has ever used, Phryne admits, “Probably both.” It’s not just Jack who is scared, who has the baggage. We’ve seen Jack’s baggage for ourselves - continue to see it plenty. But this is the first time that we get a glimpse of Phryne admitting that she does too. Oh, it’s fine for her to flirt and invite him to dinner and bend over his desk - all harmless and very fitting of either Cleopatra or the Mata Hari. But truly lifting off with Jack? She’s terrified. She knows Jack was right last episode when he said he wasn’t like all the other liberal-minded men in her life - knows it will be different with him. And what I hear is her admitting that she is ultimately afraid of the ramifications of taking that step. Naturally, Compton hears it too and capitalizes on this by offering her a drink and something more frivolous to take her mind off her baggage.

As Hugh and the Inspector work late to put the pieces together, my stomach begins to churn. “No! No!” I’m yelling at the computer screen but, it doesn’t listen. I watch helplessly, as Jack heads straight to the RAAF, knowing it’s only a matter of time before his heart gets broken yet again. I swear, I can’t handle it another time. But I can’t help but cheer as the Inspector totally abandons his moral compass for a Phryne-worthy break and enter on no less than a military base - skulking around the abandoned sentry box with Hugh as a look out. He finds his evidence but the alarms sound, the break in the perimeter fence discovered. Before you know it, Hugh has 5 guns pointed at him and Jack almost looks angrier than he was on board the Pandarus. In fact, he doesn’t just look angry. He looks dangerous. He has his revolver pulled and trained on one of the guards, telling Collins to get to the car. But Hugh doesn’t take the threats lightly, “Don’t shoot!” he pleads. And another voice joins his.

“Don’t shoot!” Phryne yells as she scurries in front of Hugh, clad only in a leather bomber-style jacket and her jewelry. Compton comes flying to the scene seconds later in only his skivvies and it’s abundantly clear what they were about to get up to. Compton accuses Jack of trespass but Jack holds his ground this time, telling the Group Captain to take it up with the Chief Commissioner. Finally, after Phryne gives Compton a withering look, he tells his officers to stand down and Hugh bolts out of there. Jack follows, walking past Phryne - no illusions here. He pauses to take in her bare feet, even though she tries to cover them amidst the fallen leaves - her toes painted bright red - and gives the head tilt of resignation. When Mata Hari performed, she would strip down to nothing except her bra and jewelry - which never came off. Well here’s Phryne, wearing only a coat, her long smoky quartz earrings dangling pointedly, her toes polished, the epitome of seduction, the Mata Hari. And Jack says nothing. Because there is nothing to say. She left his side, angered by his accusations and determined to remain true to her priority of putting herself first - and this is where she ended up. He has never been one to condemn her choices or judge her for her modern attitudes toward sex. But this hurts. And so, he simply leaves.

Phryne takes one last look at Compton and realigns her priorities almost immediately. She grasps at the chain link fence, “Jack! Wait!” she shouts for the third time. As she said at the lockers, “third time’s a charm.” Though, according to Jack’s contrary comment, it could take a fourth. Giving no mind to her unprotected feet, she runs after him in the dark, shouting in self-defense, “We were just reminiscing!”
What’s the difference between a reason and an excuse? My favorite answer is: there is always a reason but sometimes, there is no excuse.
Jack’s not buying the excuse. When Phryne lays eyes on the clothing and padding they took from the sentry box, she is immediately distracted by the case once more, “What on earth?”

The word earth prompts Jack to recall a quote from somewhere in his mind - which just so happens to match the scrap of love letter, “It’s a police matter, Miss Fisher. It’s none of your concern. You just keep those eyes turned skyward.” The words sting. He feels inferior to Compton for some reason. Perhaps because his time in the service wasn’t as glamorous as a secret-stealing pilot or perhaps because of the pilot’s now high rank. But he said the words thinking that she would continue to spur him, in this case for an airman, always turning her eyes skyward - never satisfied with what she could have here on earth.
And at that very moment, Phryne recognizes the words as those of Leonardo DaVinci: “Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been and there you will always long to return.”

So they were both right. Literary and aeronautical. And also a question of allegiance. Because as Dot reads the quote, you realize that everyone makes their choices, forms their allegiances, prioritizes what is most important.

Of course, this implicates much more than flying a plane where Phryne and Jack are concerned. If they can lighten their load, they can soar, always with the desire to return to one another.

Mr. Butler to the rescue, “A snifter, Miss?"   "Desperately!"   You’re not the only one, Phryne! This show is killing me.

Then, Dot solves the mystery! Their missing pilot isn’t a he but a she. An aviatrix disguised as a man. Dot is now so taken with the idea of flying that it is she - not Phryne - who surmises that the pilot could be a woman by imagining it as herself. The detectives bring Lt. Willis Jones in for questioning and he confirms it.  "Goggles and God help you, that was Ginny.” Sounds like someone else we know, doesn’t it? They eliminate Jones as a suspect for now and Phryne impersonates Bert’s Russian who was dealing with Ginny to find out who sabotaged the RAAF’s planes. Epic adventure ensues, which I could really care less about except for a few choice moments:

Jack, Compton and Hugh are keeping watch over the scene and Compton makes a remark about how unusual it is for the police and the air force to cooperate in these types of maneouvers. “We know who’s maneouvered us,” Jack states, not without some bile.  “Yes. Well, she always was a wild child,” replies Compton. At this statement, Jack lowers his binoculars and laughs. Actually laughs. I saw this as an amazing moment of acceptance for Jack. I like the call back to “Dead Air” and the choice of words, Jack singing to her, “there’s something wild about you child that’s so contagious…” But, there’s more. Wild child - that’s how Compton sees her but, Jack knows her to be so much more than that. I think in that moment, Compton fixes himself permanently to Phryne’s past in Jack’s eyes.

Then there’s the moment where Jack goes after Higgins, shedding his hat and coat in the process. And I don’t mean the hat falls of his head - he freaking tears it off and tosses it to the wind. He shrugs himself out of his overcoat as he tears after the man shooting at Phryne. He is literally dropping ballast in front of our eyes. Finally, I loved the admiration in Phryne’s expression as she watched Jack climb on the same motorbike she and Compton rode and chase down the murderer, giving him a little salute in respect. (By the way, in his interview, Nathan Page said it was him the whole time on that bike - no stunt double.)

So the baddies get brought in and there’s a twist to who actually killed Ginny and why. Dot, once again, helps foil the mystery - though significant credit must be given to Mr. Butler. But what stuck with me from the confession scenes is Jones’ admittance that, “I think [Ginny] loved me. But she loved flying more.” I hope we are never in a position to hear Jack say something similar though, I don’t doubt it’s exactly what he and Phryne were thinking in that moment. Also, Phryne learns through Jones that Compton lied to her, placing his responsibilities to the RAAF over his trust in her. Proving that he really *doesn’t* know her anymore. Hasta la vista Compton!

Back in St. Kilda, it’s time for some serious re-prioritizing. Hugh makes another valiant effort to be brave in the face of Dot’s career (what did he THINK would happen) and they set the wedding date: September 14, 1929. Time to practice your waltz, folks! But Hugh and Dot aren’t the only ones faced with struggles.
In the parlour, Phryne pours whiskey as usual and Jack seems to have found steady ground. I was reminded a bit of the mantle scene in “Death on the Vine,” where Jack had found some acceptance. It’s no coincidence that in that scene, too, Phryne reminded him that he was the one who came to her rescue. But for now, Phryne wants to celebrate their arrests but Jack is cautious, reminding her that he still plans to head back to the office to write up his reports. The one he mentions evokes Bert’s Russian friend - who was supposed to testify at Higgins’s sedition trial - and who has now gone missing.

In not very well disguised code, we learn that Miss Fisher has arranged for the Russian to be transported safely out of the area. Jack asks where… and Phryne tells him - once again proving that she will not keep secrets from him because she knows he will not betray her confidence.
“So what do I tell my Chief?” he asks.
“You can tell him that the Air Force doesn’t know either.”
“That’s some consolation,” he snarks. And Phryne knows he doesn’t comprehend the weight of this - that she has shared the truth with him and *not* with Compton. So, she decides to set him right.
“Even though Compton saved my life.” She admits she owes a debt to Compton and that should make the fact that she did not share the information that much more powerful. After all, the Russian’s testimony would be key in convicting Higgins of the charges of sabotaging the RAAF planes.
“Literally?” Jack wants to know.
“Ten years ago. He had a chute and he could have bailed, but he chose to crash-land the plane between two mountains and a ravine. And we both survived.”
“Well, no doubt you have more dashing heroes in your past.” Resigned acceptance. Oh, Jack. He simply can’t see himself for what he is - the dashing hero in her present.
“If there weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.” This is true for all of us - we are the sum of all of our experiences. But in this case, Phryne *literally* wouldn’t be standing right in front of him if Compton had chosen to save himself and jump from that doomed plane ten years ago.
“To heroes, then,” Jack toasts - still missing the point. But Phryne refuses to clink her glass with his until she reminds him just exactly where her allegiances lie.
“And to the one as yet unsung hero who has saved me over and over again.”
The camera angle cuts to just behind Jack’s head but, you can totally make out that sweet smile break out on his face.

At first, I was disappointed with the ending. But the more I thought about it, and after another re-watch, I realized that those words, “as yet unsung” carry a whole lot of ballast, don’t they? An unsung hero is someone whose bravery or contribution has gone unrecognized or unrewarded. I didn’t think that was necessarily true - after all she does thank him an awful lot. But then she also gives him hell pretty often for showing up just in the nick of time - when she already has the situation under control (if barely). And, there is also a sexual implication. Remember her comment in the Morgue about life being fleeting so, of course, your going to get it on when you think you could die at any moment? Well, I think there is a bit of that thrown in there as well. YET being the key word here.

I also love the fact that she credits him for saving her “over and over again,” because in this case, it’s not just “literally.” Yes, he has saved her life, literally. But he has also saved her in lots other ways. Like using all his clout to make her Jane’s legal guardian, helping her come to grips with the idea that she will never be Jane’s real mother, reopening her sister’s case and working tirelessly to make connections where no one else did, being there for her at Janey’s gravesite, coming to her aid in Maiden Creek despite the fact that he was still hurting. Over and over again, Jack has saved Phryne. And, she has saved him back - but this is about Phryne declaring her allegiance and making sure Jack hears it loud and clear.

They may still bear too much ballast but, I have faith that they will find a way to shed it and lift off.

By the way, with regard to the upcoming episode: I freaking cannot wait!!! Don’t forget that the words “old friend” now mean “lover.” Find your groove, Jack! Give Phryne a little something to be jealous about! 


Spanish trailer for The Book of Life

Fanfiction - Outlander Secret Santa 2016

Dear @lenny9987,

It turns out I am your Secret Santa. I’m curious to know if you had any suspicions about it. It has been truly a pleasure to do this for you – someone I admired even before I came on Tumblr, such a talented lady and insightful soul. I’m honestly so in awe of you that am a bit shy about it. 

In your latest response, you told me about how you would like Outlander to end – and talked about legacy. Serendipity, because it turns out I was finishing writing for you a story that is just about that (on many levels).

I hope you enjoy it. Wishing you a Merry Christmas - filled with love, laugh and Outlander. <3 And thank you @moghraidhjamie for the brilliant plan and doing this for all of us!

Tales of Us

“Jules!” Henry called upon entering the house, smiling as he aimed to throw his hat in the direction of the heavy hanger standing by the door.

“There you are!” Julia Beauchamp marched into the hall to greet him, touching his face in passing, going to help him out of his day coat. “Dinner won’t keep much longer – the chicken is probably twice dead by now, from all the waiting. What happened?”

“Quite the story, my dear! I’ll tell you all about it while we eat – I’m famished. I’ll go and wash while you ask Mrs. Florence to serve. Where is my sweet girl?”

“Sweet, hmmpf.” Julia snorted, giving him a one eyed look with honeyed eyes, an amused smile gracing her soft mouth. “You only say that because you come home when she is already fed and clean, not looking like the devilish thing she is all day. Claire is already asleep, it’s past her bedtime in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh.” He seemed to deflate like an empty balloon – he was always fairly eager for the moments he got to spend with their daughter, after working all day. “Alright, then. I’ll go and kiss her after dinner.”

They eventually sat down for the evening meal, Henry enthusiastically launching himself on the complex tale of the events that had led to his delay.

“…The poor woman – Emma – in labour in the middle of the street, huffing and puffing like a wildcat – I’m so fortunate to have seen you so before, my darling, or I’d been running for the hills!”

“Aren’t you brave, sir?” She smiled to him with a glint in her eye, mocking. “What then?”

“Well,” He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “The Royal London Hospital was quite near. So I carried her there. End up staying to make sure everything was well - her husband was away from the city, in Scotland to visit some family.”

“You did?” She shook her head, visibly impressed. “And the child?”

“A boy.” He smiled, raising his glass of dark and rich wine. “Red as a plump tomato, but incredibly fair, the poor chap. The most beautiful creature in the world to his mother, nonetheless.”

“Yes, I’m sure of that.” Julia agreed with tenderness in her voice, her mind wandering to the first glimpse she had had of her daughter, glowing like an opal amidst the haze of childbearing. The strangeness of knowing an entire person had lived inside her for months – sharing dreams, cravings and anxieties - yet capable of being so singularly unique.

“Emma was so grateful for my assistance she offered me that book.” He pointed to an old volume, which he had previously rescued from his coat’s pocket, now laying on the coffee table. “She said it was a favourite of her and her husband, an antique he had purchased from a bookseller because he and the author shared the same family name – Mackenzie.”

“That’s lovely, Henry. I think I’ll forgive you for being terribly late, just this time.” Julia squeezed his hand. “Shall we drink to this new life you helped into this world?”

“Yes!” He laughed and filled both of their glasses to the brim with liquid happiness. “Long may live Jeremiah Walter Mackenzie!”


“How did we manage to make such a perfect thing?” Henry heard Julia’s voice and looked above his shoulder, seeing her standing steps away from him in the hallway, her arms crossed and the smile – that smile! – that she always wore so well.

“I don’t know.” He sighed and his eyes softened at once when he looked at the sleeping form of their daughter. He had been lost in contemplation of her – again. “I wasn’t thinking much when we made her. Maybe it was beginner’s luck.”

She snorted and came to hug him from behind, her warm and small hands folding around his chest.

“What were you thinking just now, when I interrupted you?” Julia felt him stir and kissed the back of his neck. “You looked puzzled and a tad concerned. What is it?”

He hesitated – she could feel the battle inside him and the moment he decided to speak freely, his muscles tightening bellow her fingertips. He turned and caught her, hugging her with his long arms. She sighed blissfully, her head coming to rest on that special place on the curve of his neck.

“Once Claire is grown,” He started, moistening his lips. “What will we tell her about how we met?” Henry slid his fingers on her face and tilted her chin to meet his gaze. “About how you came?”

“I reckon we should tell her the easiest thing, really.” Julia squeezed his hand. “The truth.”

“Are you sure?” He pressed on, agitated. “Maybe it’s too much for her to bear. She will have questions and I don’t want her to feel in any way different.”

“She is different, darling.” Julia smiled tenderly and caressed the shadow of his stubble. “Claire is the daughter of a time traveller and a lawyer - deception is a second nature for the both of us. And yet our daughter is incapable of lying even to save her bum from a good smacking; and when she does try, she fails miserably. There isn’t a dishonest bone in her body.”

“You’re right.” He murmured. Henry took her hand and guided her back to the living room, where he collapsed on his favourite armchair, pushing her to sit on his lap.

“Besides,” Julia resumed. “She might be able to travel herself. You wouldn’t want her to go someday to see the Stonehenge and end up thrown back in time, completely unprepared.”

“I never thought of that.” He conceded, looking even more alarmed than before. “My God, she could get in all kinds of trouble!”

“Yes.” Julia slowly nodded. “As I did, before I found you.”

Silence fell between them, as both their memories were flooded with images from their now distant past – the strange girl with dangerous ideas; the turmoil of accusations – from mentally insane to Hungarian spy; the bold words and scandalous clothes; and the respected yet lovely man that saw through it all, decided to love her against all opinions and wise words of advice.

“Do you ever regret it?” Henry whispered, after he passionately kissed her lips. “Your decision to never return to the future? I know what you lost, Jules.” He said in a husky voice. “It seems the Great War just ended and yet we know soon enough the world will be upside down again. You lost the privileges and rights you were used to - and have to live with the burden of knowing such things to come.”

“Someone has to battle for women’s suffrage.” She winked. “Maybe I was meant to come and make the future happen as I knew it. Perhaps it only happened because I came.”

“I’m afraid for Claire.” He admitted, brushing her temple with his lips. “It’s only good she has at least one brave parent.”

“We’ll tell her the truth, Henry.” Julia said with finality, her fingers combing his dark hair. “And one day she can decide for herself. But if she was to find a love like ours in another time and place – I can only pray that she’d be wise enough to make the same choice I did. To live it well, no matter the cost.”

“Mama.” A small voice came from the door. They turned their necks and watched three-year-old Claire, curly hair spiked in every direction, marching in with her small white nightgown, bringing Raymond – the teddy bear – in tow. “Bad dream. Read me a story?”

“Alright, sweetie.” Julia gave Henry a final peck on the lips and moved to grab the book from the table. “Daddy brought in a new book, shall we give it a try?”

“Is it a boing book?” The toddler asked, suspicious.

“Boring?” Julia smiled, knowing that Claire was always disappointed to discover her father’s legal tomes. “I don’t think so – this one has stories in it. Shall we go?”

Claire nodded ecstatically – a new book was an event well worthy of celebration.

“Let’s see.” Julia started, after tucking Claire in – a hard task that ended with a tickle battle, both of them blushed and puffing, breathless. She opened the book, her finger tracing the faded black ink from the yellow and fragile pages, a sudden chill prickling her skin like a whisper.

Tales of Us

A story by Roger J.W.Mackenzie

Once upon a time, in a cabin amongst the wilderness, lived a healer and a red man whose heart belonged to her the moment they met…”


Jamie came in late that night, his hands stiff and cold after a long day at the fields. I was already nestled in bed, the blissful feeling of warmth enveloping me - basking in the singular comfort of knowing myself snug when the world around me was filled with the threat of winter.

I had been waiting for him, concern eating away inside my chest, and my heart leapt as soon as I heard him coughing downstairs. He was just starting to compose himself after the swooping pneumonia that had hit him a few weeks ago; I had pleaded for him to stay home a while longer, but at the redeeming age of seventy five he wasn’t about to become less stubborn – and so in spite of my strong looks of reprimand, he had strolled out of the house to oversee the harvest. At least he wasn’t doing any actual physical labour – was he?

This time things had been touch and go for a while – fever had consumed him for days, and even my best batch of penicillin in a long time had seemed only to slow down the progress of the disease. I had been almost powerless, knowing that the battle was being fought somewhere inside him, far away from my eager hands. That hadn’t prevented me from standing watch to him, denying with alacrity any attempt of replacement or soft words that urged me to rest - there was no rest away from Jamie; there were no possible distractions when the man that was my entire life was struggling to come back to me once more.

But Jamie had prevailed again and everyone in Fraser’s Ridge would say that he was the same man as before – it was only on the confessional of our bedroom that he felt safe enough to be weak. To surrender himself to a healing sleep, much deeper than usual. To feel the pain in his joints and allow me to massage his fingers with my special ointment. To be scared with me of how little time we had left.  

“Are ye still awake then?” He asked upon entering the room. Jamie had freed his hair from the ribbon, now almost entirely grey, like a fire vanishing in a dark cloud of ash. His face was carved with lines, more from tiredness than from age, as he still maintained a grace about his high cheeks and full mouth.

“My hip is troubling me.” I answered. It wasn’t a lie per se – my hip had taken the bad habit of throbbing with pain in the most inappropriate circumstances, and Jamie knew it better than anyone.

But what kept me awake was a longing that ran bone deep – the sudden realization that our next meeting might never come. The thought of losing him was asphyxiating, so much so I feared my heart would forget how to beat – I couldn’t bear the idea that he wouldn’t be in my arms when it happened.

“Ye should spare yerself, Sassenach.” He gave me a concerned look, while he slowly bent to rid himself of his boots. “Stay inside more instead of wandering about, tending the sick.”

“The pot calling the kettle black.” I said cheerfully, giving him a narrow look. Well most of my looks were narrow by then – my eyesight wasn’t that great anymore due to a combination of cataracts and presbyopia. “I’ll stay dutifully inside by the fire when you join me, alright?”

He rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched in a smile.

“I brought ye a wee gift.” He sat on my side of the bed, next to me, and presented me with a parcel folded in cream paper.

“Oh.” I blurted, surprised. “What’s this about?”

He looked embarrassed but a tad defiant, his blue eyes shining bright.

“Well, thirty years ago ye came back to me and became my wife again.” He noticed my surprised look and laughed. “A man seldom forgets the day he was born again, Sassenach.” Jamie said softly, smiling more widely, his eyes limpid as summer’s oceans.

Tales of Us.” I squinted to read on the first page of the book I now possessed. “You put wee Roger up to this?”

“Aye, mostly. Roger Mac has a real knack for storytelling, ye ken? And he was willing – said he might as well write some of our wickedness down, so that Jemmy and Mandy can accurately tell our greatgrandchildren our story. I think wee Roger is becoming melancholic in his auld age.”

“If you find Roger old, what are you?” I snorted and rolled my eyes.

“Wise, of course.” He raised an eyebrow and stretched himself to lay down closer to me.

I giggled, thinking of little Claire Faith and Jamie Ellis listening to the more interesting parts of our shared history. I perused the small volume and ended on the final page, noticing it blank – unfinished.

“He promised he will finish it, afterwards.” Jamie said in a low tone, his voice husky. I understood what he meant – Roger would write the ending of our story after we were gone.

I kissed him on the lips, wordless. Thirty years ago I had entered that Printshop with mixed hope and fear – not knowing what would come, but willing to start again with the man that was my soul - if he wanted me back. And he had wanted me everyday ever since – proved it to me with kisses, words and actions each day of our shared lives.

“One day I promised ye’d be the last lass I kissed.” He whispered against my white hair, sheltering his words against me, like freshly fallen snow that covers the last green things on the meadow. “And perhaps that kiss is not sae far away now. So I shall kiss ye until I’m out of breath, to make sure I fulfil my promise. I’ll gladly go into the afterlife with the taste of ye still on my lips, mo ghraidh.”

I caressed the lines on his face, which I knew so well. Ahead of us lay a separation that nothing could conquer, a threatening storm forming on the horizon. We could both feel it, the distant thunder that crashed our bones, the ripples of pain to come.

But we were together. And we had faced a lifetime of defying the odds – I had lived a life thinking I would never see him again, only to be given a second chance. Somewhere in the future I would be born and our story would start again.

Jamie grabbed my hand and kissed the ring that was his, entwining our shrivelled fingers afterwards. I reached for some writing tools I kept close to me on the nightstand and managed to scrawl on the bottom of the final page.

“And they kissed, until there were no more kisses left, and even then their lips went on touching, whispering to each other of a thousand kisses shared and a hundred more to come.”

Pippin's Song in the Book vs the Movie

(I just wanted to take this opportunity to compare Pippin’s song in the movies to the song in the book - after writing about it’s use in the trailer (see this post), I had the itch, you know? So, I’m sorry for sort of hijacking your messages, lol.)

So, the song that Pippin sings in the Return of the King movie is just the last verse of a longer song sung in Fellowship of the Ring. Tolkien introduces the song with a bit of background information, saying:

They began to hum softly, as hobbits have a way of doing as they walk along, especially when they are drawing near to home at night. With most hobbits it is a supper-song or a bed-song; but these hobbits hummed a walking-song (though not, of course, without any mention of supper and bed). Bilbo Baggins had made the words, to a tune that was as old as the hills, and taught it to Frodo as they walked in the lanes of the Water-valley and talked about Adventure.

So, we learn a few important things here. First, that the song was written by Bilbo. Second, that Bilbo wrote the words, but the tune was much much older. Third, that it was about Adventure. And fourth, that it was a walking song. This last part suggests to me that the tune itself would be very different from the slow melancholy tune Pippin sings in the movies - that song would certainly not motivate any purposeful walking at all! It was probably a traditional walking/working tune that Bilbo simply assigned new lyrics to. And, given the cheery lyrics, I believe that the song probably had a pretty upbeat tune (such as the one used by The Hobbitons in their rendition of the song, which I posted earlier today.)

Looking specifically at the changes made to the lyrics between the book and the movie is pretty fascinating:

Not only were the cheerful lines removed from the verse, but a small - yet significant - change was made to one of the lines. While in the book the hobbits sing the encouraging line “Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, Away shall fade! Away shall fade!”, saying basically that the darkness will pass, in the movie Pippin sings the much bleaker “Mist and shadow, cloud and shade. All shall fade! All shall fade!”, which seems to be saying the exact opposite. Peter Jackson and company obviously have a gift for making tiny changes that alter Tolkien’s happy songs into much more ominous versions of themselves - for another example see this post on the “Lord of the Silver Fountains” song.

Anyway, I guess the point of this post (if there is any point) is that while the repeated use of Pippin’s song in the Hobbit trailer creates fascinating parallels within the movie!verse, trying to keep that same significance within the books is going to be difficult, since its meaning and use are so different in each medium.


The Light in the Dark

TITLE: The Light in the Dark

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Eighteen

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being blinded in an accident while helping S.H.I.E.L.D., you live in the Tower with everyone but dread the way they treat you like a helpless child. When Loki arrives on Midgard to carry out the rest of his sentence he becomes curious with your condition and how you manage to read and such. Over the months the two of you grow closer than the others thought possible. You come to love him without ever seeing him. 

RATING: Teen and Up

“I’m not sure about this Kiddo.”

“I am.”

“But why?”

“Why not? Think about it, Rogers has access to my floor, so does Barton and Romanov. They are just as deadly, why should they be allowed and not him? They work for S.H.I.E.L.D. the same S.H.I.E.L.D. that tried to kill me. Loki has never done anything to hurt me, in fact he saved my life from S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“I’m not going to understand this whole thing with you and Reindeer Games being best buddies.”

Keep reading

Recap: Act 1, Episode 2

Oh hey I’m back already.

Yeah that’s pretty funky. At least the walls aren’t bleeding. So you’re not at Peak Horror Movie Screwed just yet.

I’d probably be more scared of the medical textbooks. They probably have the knowledge needed to kill a person 8 ways from Sunday.

Ok well maybe it’s just trying to help you expand your knowledge. Like Catherine the Great DID kinda like, revitalize Russia in the 1700s. (alright yeah the serfdom thing was a bit harsh but she was still kind of badass). Be scared of books about like, Caligula or something. Someone real crazy like that.

Revelations has that rivers of blood thing, I think. Maybe water bottles of blood is somewhere near the back near “Thou Shall Make Dorky Harry Potter Crafts As A Coping Mechanism”.

So that’s another word for bookworm and given their current location I’d suspect it was an actual worm.

That’s the exact face I make when I accidentally eat a raisin.

The blood “tastes like dead” and not fresh dead. Dead from before the dawn of time dead. I don’t even want to imagine what that tastes like.

Considering it’s feeding you guys and gently picking on carmilla no it’s probably not that.

MAMA DEAN COMIN’ RIDIN IN ON CONQUEST PESTILENCE  FAMINE AND DEATH or whatever her version is. So this very subtle “hello children I’m fucking with things” probably means she’s opened a gate which is NOT good so y’all should like, research on how to close ‘em or at least postpone the apocalypse. Ok well two of you do, one thinks it’s just the library in a bad mood. Laura’s gonna go watch Sherlock and WHY would you watch that. Go watch Elementary.

Aw it was very nice of the library to give you possibly-living Harry Potter glasses to go with your NerdCrafts. Oh, no wait, they’re not for that. They’re decoder glasses. And they seem to be attacking Laura.

Or attempting to get on her face so they can see a Super Seekrit Message of runes around the door.

Sassy fuckin’ runes aren’t they. Or whoever left ‘em there was not one to mince words.

Ok they need Horcruxes talismans to stop Voldemort Voldeanmort. Simple enough. The runes had a bonus bird sigil and 1874 the year the school was founded.

Talismans is a new one for them though. Carmilla has seen her use charms and amulets, bracelets, spores moulds and fungus and good ol’ fashioned possession but not talismans. (OT but if you’re ever in Vnncouver and like beer pls sample the Talisman Pale Ale from Strange Fellows Brewing).

Laura doesn’t seem convinced so she’s clearly still paddlin’ up that river called denial. Wait, that’s probably too harsh. She’s still probably feeling all the weight of what’s happened and she’s taking time to heal and not get involved lest she make things worse.

LaF thinks they saw the bird sigil somewhere so they scurry off to look it up.

This is a 180 from the Laura we know. Old Laura flung herself into library excursions and research and now?

Yeah. There it is. She’s still got that weighing on her.

Good point.

Nah they don’t bang on that desk till way later so you’re good.