tea in the loo

Roper’s opening night.


Author Ladyoftheteaandblood.
Happy fluff with Roper, Alternative fact Tom and a few friends.

Roper stared at Pine and couldn’t for the life of him think why Conny had let him back in.

“He’s glaring at me again” Tom yelled at Conny

“Are you surprised, you nicked his bed space, he was sleeping by me till your return” Tom felt guilty all over again and Roper growled at him

“Yes alright you furry demon, I’m well aware I’ve fucked up”

The black cat looked somehow pleased at this confession, gave Tom a look of disgust, a disdainful flick of his tail end and walked out the cat flap.

“With Roper gone it was time for Pine to woo the lady and try his luck”

As Tom said this he turned round to find Conny behind him

“Are you still doing a narrative on that poor innocent cat?” She asked wrapping her arms round his waist.

“He hates me, I look at him sometimes and the see evil intent in those big golden eyes. He’s just waiting for his chance to trip me on the stairs” Tom said as he hugged Conny back.

“Well he remembers all the night I was……..Upset and is plotting his revenge”

“So you admit he wants to kill me then?” the blue eyes sparkling at her

“Oh yes, you’re one cats hair away from death, so you’d better behave. This time Roper will win” she giggled

“On a serious note, he is very jealous of you Tom, even more so since your return, so be nice to him. He had me all to himself and now he’s lost his bed and half his cuddles”

“Oh I’ll try” and with a look that said he felt exactly the opposite, Tom made to leave.

“See you at the theater later?” he asked. Conny had been helping in the evenings with Tom’s latest production. Every time she left to go, Roper had sulked like he knew she was off to cavort with that man.

“Yes I will see you later, may even bring cake and cookies for the cast”

“You know how to get around a guy” he laughed as he picked up his bag, kissed her on the forehead and left.

Conny spent a very messy, happy afternoon cooking for the cast. She had never been a tidy cook and by the end of the day even Roper, who had come back now “Thingy” had gone, was covered in flour. He turned and left her to go clean himself up, making sure he did so on Tom’s favourite chair, leaving as much flour behind as he could.

Conny’s bag stood by the door full of cakes, cookies and books, some she’d promise to lend and two she was giving back to Mark Gatiss. Roper had a good sniff round and rubbed as much of his scent on it as he could, so she wouldn’t forget him.

The cleaning of the kitchen took a lot longer than she had expected, so it was a very quick shower before Conny had to rush out the door, throwing cat food in Ropers bowl and praying he wasn’t to pissed off at her for not giving him a goodbye tummy rub.

Outside she found Tom’s driver Sam, waiting, smiling as ever.

“Tom sent me. My lady your chariot awaits” He told her bowing really low and opening the car door.

“You’re as big an idiot as he is, but thanks this bag is heavy”

Sam took it off her, let her in the car and stowed the booty in the boot.

“Where to my lady”

“Oh take me to my knight in tarnished armour”

When she got to the theater, the front of house had that quiet calm that happens before all hell breaks Loose, the auditorium was empty and silent, the stage had its curtains open, the set with the props all in place, ready for the off.

The dressing rooms however were buzzing with activity as actors were transformed from lowly plebs, to hero’s, villains, kings and servants and all the other members of this somewhat mad production.

Mark Gatiss had written this play himself with Tom, Benedict and David T. in mind. He himself played the old confused priest in this mad old fashioned farce, while the three stars played eager knights jousting for the girl, only to have her ……Well that would ruin the end and we can’t have that.

Safe to say it had a lot of silly nonsense with swords, Armour, hiding behind bits of set, a priest, a medieval torturer, and men trying to impress a girl etc…

The three boys played their parts to perfection, and the audience left to go home each night with sides aching from all the laughing. The play had become a huge hit, with both the critics and general public loving it.

Conny would come in every night and help where she could. If that meant tea making, clearing up, or just fetching and carrying, she would do it. She really didn’t care what she did, she just love how back stage felt before and during the performance.

How the tension would build till the curtain came up. How each actor had their way of preparing before they went on. Some having an almost  religious ritual they had to go through, some listened to a particular bit of music, some you had to leave totally alone and others wanted to talk through their part yet again.

She put down her bag in the tiny kitchen, opened it, and was about to take out the cookies and cakes, and other goodies when a head popped out, very quickly followed by the body and tail of Roper. Who after taking one look at the odd surroundings with its even odder smells, shot out the door of the theater kitchen.

“Oh shit!”

Now she had two options. One, tell everyone a cat, a black cat to boot, was running around the theater. Or two, try and find the furry fiend before the little sod caused utter chaos.

She decided on the second but this could only happen if nobody yelled for her help, which of course that night they all did.

Tom had got part of his armour stuck and needed to be  helped out and then back in it the right way, which let’s face it, at any other time would have been really good fun as it was the bottom half.

A major prop had been lost, so it was all hands on deck to find it. Conny used the hunt time to also look for Roper but he’d had gone to ground and refused to be found. She discovered the missing prop in the fridge when making tea for a fraught cast.

A male member of cast was convince the loos were haunted, as when he was having a pee, he’d heard strange sounds coming from the old cupboard in the corner. Conny had a clue what that was but on further inspection, she only found an empty cupboard, apart from a decapitated mouse.

She made the decision to tell Tom the news and went off to find him,. She  didn’t get further than his dressing room door as he flew passed her with a quick peck on the cheek and said

“And we are off again”

Now all she could do now was pray she’d find him after the performance.

The play went like a dream, Conny could hear Tom and the others frolicking on stage and the audience roaring with laughter.

It carried on that way to the final act where our three knacked knights, having all completed their tasks, rushed into the throne room, on hobby horses, to each try and claim the hand of the maiden fair. Only to find it empty and all hope of romantic entanglements removed as she had ……Well that would ruin it.

There they stood, our three gallant men, ardour cooling in the cold light of day but ready to have one final battle with each other to the bitter end. Swords in hands, they faced each other, when a low menacing sound  could be heard loud and clear all across the stage and out into the audience.

Tom, Benedict and David all looked briefly confused then resumed the fight, prowling round the stage, about to do  terrible acts of violence on the other two, an armpit killing was due anytime.

The most awful sound of suffering came from the wings, as a scream was heard and two cast members, the Princes and her love interest the milk maid ( sod end ruined)  rushed on stage with no cue to do so, quickly followed by the castle torturer looking like he’d just seen death itself.

A sound of scuffling, the growl of a cat, the screech of a dying animal and silence. The audience were gripped as the plot thickened. Our three heroes looked at each other and then back at the wings, our uninvited cast members on stage were now holding on to each other. Tom stared at the burly torturer who decidedly pale, whispered to Tom “Rat…Large" the guy looked about to faint.

At this point on walked a familiar furry lump…He crossed the stage as cocky as you like, passing the surprised looking knights, carrying…Well more like dragging a large dead grey rat in his mouth. Roper looked out at the audience bobbed his head as if to bow and exited stage left, still dragging his spoils of war.

The audience cheered and Ben commented loudly he’d never been upstaged by a cat.

David looked at the happy couple and in his broad Scottish accent said

“Well ya can’t argue with that”

Tom gave up put his arms around his fellow knights saying,

“It seem our plans have been thwarted.  We should retire to the tavern men where wenches aplenty wait with ale?” The frustrated suitors headed off stage, along with the happy couple and the torturer still looking nervously around in case ratty had brought mates.

After the applause and bows had stopped, there was just the question to be answered. why was the play change by a unscripted cat?

Tom was strangely quiet as to answers and Conny looked like she’d robbed a bank. But Mark was killing himself laughing and saying he couldn’t have written it better himself.

Conny fessed up to her stow away pal, who was bought out of hiding by David opening a tin of tuna he’d had in the fridge. He said it was for a sandwich but he was known for putting stuff in there by mistake.

On hearing the can-opener Roper strutted into the room rat free and received his reward. Everyone praise the little sod for saving the fair maiden from the nasty rodent that had attacked her, her maid and the big strong torturer in the wings that night. He single handedly had saved the day. He gave Tom a look as if to say

“Who’s the star now Buddy boy?”

Conny fed a very pooky Tom cake, and he began to see the funny side as the cast happily finished all the goodies while giving heaps of attention to Roper. Who as it turnout was quite the spotlight whore!

Mark took loads of photos of cast and cat, and made sure that the opportunity to get some media attention for the play didn’t go a miss. Well it’s not even day a cat graces a London stage and not only upstages the cast, saves the maiden from a large uninvited rat and changes the plot in a good way.

Roper, when all the tuna was gone, and his audience were leaving to head home,  got back into the bag to go home himself with no bother at all helped by David, who he seemed to adore.

“Pine was yet again put in his place by Roper as to who was boss” Tom said under his breath

“Oh come on my superhero, just because he prefers a Time lord to a demi god, don’t get jealous” Conny said as she gave Tom a hug.

She went and picked up her coat from the table only to screamed loudly as a large dead, bloody rat fell from its folds onto her foot.

“How lovely, Roper gave you his Kill"

“That cats an arsehole” she yelled shaking her foot vigorously, as Tom graciously removed the dead monster, grinning from ear to ear as it was now his turn to save the maid. And he knew just what to ask for as a reward on getting home!

(Pictures not mine I just played)

@abfoster1s @ancientfinnishgoddess @antyc67 @archy3001 @aggro-femme @angryschnauzer @aliceada @anovinebin  @booksandcatslover @bluegrasscontessa

 @damageditem @dorito82 @echantedbytwh @eve1978 @feelmyroarrrr @frenchblondgirl @heathermc13 @izhunny @larouau12 @lolawashere @lostinspaced33 @maevecurrywrites @marveloznerd @mrshiddelston @october-green @oeffsee @ourladybinxthings @peskipixi @prplprincez @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks @simonscat @servent-alearika @siyoteodiara @the-haven-of-fiction @the-lady-mischief @tinaferraldo @tomforachange @tomhiddleston-kikibfairy @tomkurbikston @neither-blue-nor-green @nuggsmum @lordjohnandtom @kellarter

@omninocte

When John moves back into 221B, he appreciates that Sherlock doesn’t make a big song and dance of it. He quietly helps John move boxes in bit by bit, sets up a cot in the living room for now, just so Rosie can sleep and still be near them.

Except, Sherlock is rather quiet. John puts the kettle on, grateful that the noise fills up the silence. “Tea? Just going to the loo, then I’ll make it.”

Sherlock waves him off. “Yeah, fine.”

But when John comes back, he stops in the doorway..

It almost looks like Sherlock has frozen- his hand is reaching up to the top cupboard, fingers clasped around the handle of- oh. John’s mug. Oh. Sherlock is crying, his back trembling every few moments.

And John suddenly understands why he was so quiet. This has been building. This has been building for a very long time. 

“Oh, Sherlock,” he says.

Sherlock turns around, and he is smiling, and John thanks god for how much has changed now, that Sherlock is letting him actually see.

“I’m- I’m fine. H-honestly,” Sherlock replies. He’s half crying, half laughing. He rolls his eyes at himself and tries to wipe the tears away with one hand. “H-happy tears, John.”

“Oh God,” John says. “I love you.”

He goes to Sherlock and kisses those tears away.

Kiss Me: chapter five

Hi everybody, and welcome aboard. Hope you all enjoy this, and see you at the end! xx

Demelza 14:37 Any idea where Caroline is?

Screwing my flatmate 14:45 No

Demelza 14:46 The fact that that disappointment of a message took you eight minutes to send makes me think she’s with you right now.

Screwing my flatmate 14:47 Demi, I’m in an practical assessment, can you please piss off?

Demelza 14:48 Practical assessment? Wtf is that? Like an exam where you do stuff? Oh, yeah sorry. Forgot about the pissing off bit. Doing that now. 

Demelza put her phone away. She had texted Caroline thirteen times, and she hadn’t replied. She wasn’t with Dwight, so realistically, that left a limited number of  options.

1. She’s dead.

2. She dropped her phone down the loo/in a pond/in her tea/coffee/alcohol.

3. She got mugged and is now being held for ransom.

4. She’s pissed at me.

Number 4 seemed most likely to Demelza, so she tried to think what she might have done wrong, thought of absolutely nothing but bought a can of gin and tonic for safety’s sake and went back to the flat to put it on Caroline’s bed. Just as she got there, her phone buzzed with a text from Ross.

The bane of my existence 15:10 Want to come over to mine for a bit? Please. I’m bored.

Demelza 15:10 Yep, just give me a minute, I’ll be right over.

The bane of my existence 15:11 Yay

And that was how, when Caroline got back to the flat at half-past three, she found a can of gin with her name written on in Sharpie, and no Demelza. It was the last day of January exams, a Friday thank heaven, and she was taking Dwight down to Killewarren as soon as he got out, staying the weekend, and coming up again Monday morning. It would either be the most stressful weekend of her life, or it would be absolutely wonderful. 

Caroline 15:32 Where are you??

Demelza 15:33 Out. With Ross. Dwight’s not here. He’s coming straight to you.

Caroline 15:34 K. I’m nervous…

Demelza 15:34 Why??? Scared your uncle won’t like him?

Caroline 15:35 Yeah…and I don’t know what the arrangements will be. I usually go in my old room from when I was a kid, but I don’t know if he’ll be ok with that.

Demelza 15:36 D or your uncle?

Caroline 15:36 Both. Uncle Ray is going to be WAY too protective and might not like us sharing a room, and I don’t even know if Dwight wants to coz we haven’t…yet???! Arghhhh HELP

Demelza 15:38 Relax it’ll be fine. Your uncle can deal with it- you’re not six and he should be grateful. Dwight’s a nice guy and not like some boyfriends you could’ve ended up with. About Dwight I wouldn’t ask him, just go for it. He fancies you like hell anyway so…*wink*

Caroline 15:40 Yeah…but wouldn’t it be awkward? I couldn’t look Uncle Ray in the eye if it happened there, like in his house, across the corridor.

Demelza 15:41 You’re so…posh. If you like him, I don’t see the problem.

Caroline 15:42 Ok. We’ll see. Anyway, I’ll see you on Monday.

Demelza 15:42 CAN YOU STOP TEXTING MY GIRLFRIEND AND TAKE MY BEST FRIEND AWAY I DO NOT WANT HIM BACK UNLESS YOU HAVE DONE SCANDALOUS THINGS IN A TRAIN CARRAIGE OK???

Caroline 15:43 Hi Ross.

Demelza 15:43 Hi. Now go away.

Then, there was a knock on the door. Caroline practically jumped into Dwight’s arms with the classic ‘I haven’t seen you for at least two hours’ franticness that he had expected, and kissed him very nicely, he thought. “Hello,”

“Hi. You ok?”

“Yes. You ready to go, we’ve got about seventeen minutes until the next train?”

Dwight looked at his watch. “Yeah we can make that one.” Caroline smiled and pulled on her coat and shoes. Dwight hung about awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Being in her and Demelza’s flat was always awkward; it was too…well, female. There were fluffy blankets, piles of laundry and sanitary products at every turn, and Dwight was altogether happier with his eyes closed. He had a laptop bag slung over one shoulder and was carrying a small rucksack with both straps (of course Ross had mentioned that this wasn’t what you were supposed to do), but was travelling pretty lightly, mostly because he had virtually no possessions in the first place. 

Caroline picked up a Cath Kidston overnight bag stuffed to the brim which was not actually stuffed because everything was neatly folded, and her across-the-shoulder handbag that looked totally incapable of carrying anything at all. Dwight offered to carry her bag like a true gentleman, unworried by the thought of walking down the high street carrying something that looked like a volcanic eruption had happened somewhere near the Chelsea Flower Show, but Caroline said she was happy to carry it. Probably she didn’t trust him with something that was inside.

They hurried down to the station, holding hands rather awkwardly, and bought their tickets with student railcards. Dwight bought them both coffee at the Starbucks (which pretty much burned out his entire budget for the weekend), and they went to loiter on the platform, because this was Britain after all, and the train would be late.

“I think it’s going to be pretty good weather,” said Caroline after a while. “For January, anyway. We’ll have to come down together again in the summer sometime. Part of the Killewarren estate is a private stretch of beach just down from the woods, and I used to swim there as a teenager, because no one could see.”

“I’d like that. We used to do river swimming when I was growing up.”

“Yes, I like that. What about sailing?”

“Only when a rich friend took me a couple of times. We never had a boat.”

“Uncle Ray does. He’s terrible at sailing actually, so I learnt because I felt sorry for the boat. I’ll take you sometime.”

“What’s she called? The boat?” Caroline smiled, remembering idyllic childhood memories of sailing on the calm open water.

Evening-Rose. She’s beautiful.” 

“I’m sure. Can you sail her alone? I wouldn’t be much help, I haven’t sailed for ten years or so.”

“I’m sure you’re much better than you make out, as with everything. She’s a fourteen foot yacht so I would be grateful for a little help!” 

“I could probably pick it up again fairly quickly.”

“I bet you could.”

“How much!” he teased, and put an arm around her waist instinctively. When he realised where his hand was, he looked at her for direction, but she only smiled up at him, clearly perfectly comfortable with this public display of affection and togetherness.

The train clattered in. Dwight and Caroline smiled at each other and got in. It was beginning.

Next time…the journey in a first class carriage is a revelation for Dwight, and the great meeting occurs…hopefully you guys enjoyed that and I’ll update as soon as possible. xx

FOETUS TO THE MAX A'IGHT

tbh its not finished but i had to post it :)))))

okie to start we will begin with bradley will simpson

i thought id ease you in with a lovely smile bc holy moly u fine

i think someones been doin the marrajuanna

I MEAN LIKE FOETUS BRED WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER JUST LOOK AT THAT MUSHROOM

Y SO SIRIUS BRAD THIS ISNT YOUR JAIL PHOTO OR ANYHING

OH BRAD YOU REBEL PULLIN THE MIDDLE FINGER N ALL

IM PEEING OMG BRAD AND HIS CLIQUE  LOL THEYRE ALL CHAVS 

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8

Behind the scenes of The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit (Part 5)

Excerpt from director James Strong’s “Director’s Diary” (DWM #371)

It’s the week before we start shooting. The cast arrives in Cardiff for a read-through, followed by a rehearsal. This is such a treat. Too often, the first time that you’ll meet an actor is on set, and you’re straight into the work. Don’t get me wrong, you can’t do enormous amounts in a few hours, but any time with the cast in a room just talking through the script and the story can really help the end result. I tend to leave the script alone, and ask the actors to tell me who they think their character is? What do they like? We invent history and background, as well as exploring the relationships between the characters so when they arrive on set, hopefully they’ll have some concrete character notes in their minds.  This will enable them to launch straight into our story, as sadly on the day there will be no time to stop and ponder their ‘motivation’.

We gather early in the morning for the read-through. I nervously drink too much tea and need the loo constantly. It’s amazing the transformation that occurs when a script is read aloud. All the emotion and excitement of the page suddenly fills the room. It is so intoxicating, and, despite my dodgy reading of Zack (as Shaun couldn’t make it), the read-through goes really well, and everyone is looking forward to the shoot… regardless of the rather ominous weather reports, which warn of a major snow-front heading straight for us the day we start shooting!  Also, it’s my first chance to chat with Billie and David, who talk enthusiastically of the story as the scariest they’ve done!

Other parts of this set: [ one ] [ two ] [ three ] [ four ] [ six ]
[ List of Behind-the-Sceness PhotoSets ]

Second Place Winner for Oneshot Contest.

Imagine being John’s little sister and after seeing Sherlock kissing you he beats Sherlock up.

You walk up the stairs to 221B, not knocking before opening the door and walking through. Looking around you see no trace of your brother. You huff, irritated. He said he would be ready to leave for the movie when you arrived. So much for that.

    “He’s been held up at the clinic. Last minute arrival.” A familiar deep baritone voice says from the kitchen. Walking into the kitchen, Sherlock is bent over his microscope, looking at what appears to you to be blood samples.

    You sigh, resigned. “Damn them. I hardly get any time to spend with John as it is.” You walk over to the kettle and begin making tea, ready to settle in and wait. “So, what’s on the agenda for today Mr. Holmes?” You ask Sherlock, genuinely curious. Sherlock’s experiments always fascinate you, even if they are a bit on the unsafe side.

    “Experimenting on how the neurochemistry involved in attraction affects the bloodstream.” He says curtly, not taking his eyes off his blood samples.

    You nod, understanding the basics of what he is doing, but not much beyond that. “Interesting. Tea?” An affirmative noise is the only response you receive.

    When the kettle is just boiled, you hear a slam as Sherlock’s hands smack against the table. “Damn! These samples are useless!” He growls, tugging at his hair.

    “Anything I can do to help?” You ask, fixing the tea and bringing a cup over to the clearly distressed genius.

    He looks at you blankly before smiling in a way that could only be described as creepy. “Yes, there might just be. Are you sure you want to assist me?” He purrs, standing up and advancing towards you.

    “Yes…?” You respond, now slightly confused as to what he has in mind. He keeps advancing, backing you into the kitchen counter. “Wonderful.” He says as his face reaches closer and closer to yours before your lips finally meet.

    His hands reach up and cup your face, as one of yours reach up and buries itself in his luscious curls. The kiss becomes fiercer as time goes on, and it isn’t long before lips part and the kiss grows deeper.

    Lost in the kiss as you both are, neither of you hear the door slam or the footsteps on the stairs until too late.

    “Sherlock, what the HELL?” You both hear John shout before Sherlock is ripped from your arms and John throws a right hook at one sharp cheekbone. “That’s my little sister you prick! What the hell were you thinking?” John shouts before throwing another punch at his flatmate.

    You dash over to John, pulling on one of his arms before he can continue beating up his best friend. “John! Stop it! Relax will you!” You tug him a bit farther away from Sherlock, before explaining. “It was for an experiment John! And I agreed to help. So relax, Captain.” You say, exasperated.

    John looks a bit ashamed. “Oh, of course. Of course it would be for an experiment. You sure you’re okay?” He asks, his eyes scanning you for any signs of harm.

    You roll your eyes. “We were kissing, not fighting. And I can take care of myself. Besides, you should be asking Sherlock that question. He’s the one bleeding from his face.”

    Sure enough, Sherlock’s face had taken some damage from the ex-soldier’s fists, and was bleeding slightly. “Oh shi- God, I’m sorry Sherlock. Hold on, I’ll get my kit.” John says, before dashing into the loo to get his first aid kit.

    You walk over to Sherlock and wince in sympathy at his damaged face before looking into his eyes. You both look at each other for a second before laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Once you manage to get a hold of yourself, you say, “Well, I think that may have thrown off your results. Sorry.” You try to look sympathetic, but still high off your laughing fit, your lips just keep twitching toward a smile.

    Sherlock just waves his hand dismissively. “Any good experiment needs trials. I do hope you won’t mind that I need your continued… assistance.” He says smoothly, before shooting you a wink and heading to meet John in the loo.

    God… You think, picking up your tea off the counter and taking a sip, I love science.

Written by khait-suten

anonymous asked:

do you have any advice for someone who finds it hard to finish books? for various mental health etc reasons i have pretty bad concentration but i really want to read more.

YES! SO MUCH ADVICE! 

I think the worst thing to do if you struggle to finish books/find time to read is put loads of pressure on yourself to Set Time Aside, or whatever. I do A LOT of reading, but I very rarely mark out a block of Reading Time In Which I Will Read – I do sometimes, if I’m reading something that I CAN’T PUT DOWN, but generally I take the more laid back approach, as follows: 

  • take that book everywhere with you. everywhere. going to the kitchen to make a cup of tea? take your book. read a page as the kettle boils. maybe sit at the table and read a couple more pages while you drink your tea. going to the loo? take your book. waiting for your favourite show to come on? read through the news. you get the picture. 
  • ugh, you have to eat breakfast/lunch/dinner by yourself? NO YOU DON’T, YOU HAVE YOUR BOOK! read a chapter while you eat. fork in one hand, book in the other. sandwich in two hands, book propped up against mug of tea. etc. etc. 
  • if you’re on public transport, put your phone away, crack the book out. even if it’s just a 10 minute bus ride. I used to do 90% of my reading on my 1 hour 40 commute to university: half a book on the way there, half on the way back. (and if you’re one of those people who can READ in a MOVING CAR, then you have a precious gift that you must fucking cherish, because I would literally cut your head open and Sylar it out of you if I could.) 
  • take your book with you if you’re going to meet someone somewhere, because if your friends are anything like mine they’ll be late. read a page. read some more when you’re waiting for your lift to pick you up after. or if you’re running errands with your mother, put your book in your bag. she’s running into the post office? read a bit. you’re waiting for her to grab something from ASDA? read. you’re saving a table and she’s buying the tea? READ! 
  • A FAIL-SAFE METHOD: take your book in the bath with you. there is literally nothing else to do in baths. read until you’re bored (and/or the water’s cold, whichever comes first). 

I know this sounds really bitty and pointless but I promise you if you just read a few pages every so often that’ll be enough to either get you to the bit where you’re like SHIT, MAJOR PLOT IS HAPPENING, THIS IS RIVETING, or get you close enough to the end that you’re like SHIT, THE HOME STRETCH, IMMA FINISH THIS BOOK!

good luck with all the books you’re gonna finish! make good choices!

Little Things, 41

~1000 words a day. Unbeta’d. Ten/Rose. College/Uni/Roommates AU. Previous chapters here.


“Is it just me,” John asked, trying to sound as casual as possible, “Or has Rose been acting a bit, erm, strange, lately?”

“Strange how?”

“Dunno.”

“She seems normal to me,” Donna replied, handing him a plate of beans on toast, the extent of her culinary abilities. To be fair, she did beans on toast very well.

He thought of the odd behaviour that spanned the entire week - starting with the phone conversation with Pete. Since then she’d been withdrawn and quiet, spending most of her time out of the house or in her bedroom with her door closed. Two nights ago he’d bumped into her in the hallway as he emerged from the shower and she had gone beet red and rushed back to her room as if her life depended on it. It was very odd.

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Where’s The D? (Or The Five Times James and Nadine Were Caught... You Know)

Inspired by my favorite tweet in the universe that I will probably have carved into my grave

Rated for profanity (it’s Winter Weather today and the cold makes me potty mouthed)

Caryl

Being in Europe was a joy and a pain in the butt. She had to haul bags from airport to airport, make sure Kuya was awake, make sure he was wearing socks and he was warm enough because Ate gets really pissy when he so much as sneezes… and make sure he’s fed because he gets grumpy, and when he’s grumpy he’s like a baby clinging on to Ate, who only entertains his antics because… well she’s in love and she can’t find fault in her “habibi.”

That was one more thing she hated about Europe, the damned habibi thing was starting to get on her nerves. 

Ever since they came from Dubai the both of them have been laying it on thick with the habibi.

Habibi you’re so cute, kiss mo nga ako!

Habibi love, you can’t wear that I won’t be able to focus, I’d want to bite you!

Habibi are you cold? Do you want your sweater?

Habibi, can you put this in your pocket.

I love you habibi

Kiss, kiss, smooch smooch. 

Blech.

She doesn’t understand how their fans can stand such blatant slaps to single people, I mean can they not  understand that not everyone has a habibi?

And that sometimes they’re so sweet it hurts the teeth?

“Yes, habibi, just there, that’s perfect.”

She rolls her eyes as she opens the connecting door from the room she and Nadine share to James’ room. Ate was probably there telling James how to pack his suitcase again.

“Kayo ha, ang aga aga habibi na kayo agad.”

Then she froze as Nadine squeaked and James jerked and she was assaulted by a vision of James’ bare butt and Nadine’s legs around his shoulders and he collapsed on top of Nadine who hastily pulled the duvet over the both of them burying them under in white.

“OH MY FUCKING SHIT!”

She screamed as she closed her eyes and turned around banging her head on the wall as she tried to erase that image in her brain and then she hears Nadine’s giggles fill the room and James shushing her by a method that caused her to half squeal and half moan that she hastily covered her ears.

“Caryl get out!” James shouted from under the duvet and she walked quickly to the door, turning back to the wriggling shapes under the duvet with a dark scowl on her face.

“Mag lock kayo ng pinto sa susunod!”

Whenever they’d call each other habibi then, Caryl hits one or both of them. She doesn’t need a reminder of James’ white ass staring her in the face.

Irish

Writing a book on the two busiest people in the world is painful. Extremely excruciating because she had to adjust according to schedules, and even drive all the way to QC just to interview the both of them.

Especially now that they were fresh from Europe and Nadine was kind enough to meet her in BGC to finish their interviews.

“Asaan ang jowa mo? Buti hindi bumuntot sa’yo?”

“Nasa Valk lang, dinaanan yung friend niya na DJ, baka susunduin ko pa later.” 

“Hala, okay ka pa ba?”

“Yeah ate, sabi ko magtagal muna siya doon since we’re working and matagal na siyang di nakikita ng friends niya.”

“Iba ka talaga te, kaya mahal na mahal ka eh.”

Nadine only grinned and waved off her comments and she smiled knowingly, because Nadine was such a sweetheart and she really thinks she and James are good for each other. 

They talk a lot over the next three hours until the tea shop closes down and she goes over to the loo while Nadine calls James on her phone.

But before she can enter the stall she remembers she forgot her feminine wipes in her purse and hastily gets out to get them but as she approaches the table, she hears Nadine mumbling in her phone and she tries to quickly get her wipes without alerting Nadine to her presence but the zipper in her vanity purse catches and with a soft curse she tries to tug it free.

“Habibi, pauwi na ako, sunduin ba kita or sabay ka na lang kay Bret pauwi?… Are you sure, it’s still early. Yeah, you should stay. I’ll see you at the house okay? I know… I know but babe, you haven’t seen your friends in a long while… Don’t you think I want you inside me too? I love you too… James I am not having phone sex with you in public.” Her eyes widened as Nadine mumbled the words and she tried to tug her kit faster, not really wanting to hear this when-

“Okay but if you stay with your friends when you go home I promise to lick you up… in that way you like from your ba-”

She picked up her entire bag and ran all the way back to the toilet fanning herself. 

“Putang mga kangkerz to, walang konsiderasyon sa single na nagdudusa sa Brazilian wax.”

The next day she wakes up to multiple tags of her on James’ video in a car with his friends.

She shakes her head because if these bashers only knew that it was Nadine who made him stay and promised him a treat if he did.

Don’t worry. James and Nadine are talking to each other. They call each other Habibi.

Which was appropriate she thought. She’d even shorten it to habhab the next time she sees them both.

Clarky Boy

His masters were simple. They woke up, they rubbed his belly, picked him up and fed him.

Only this time, they seem to be late in waking up and feeding him because he was definitely hungry.

Nosing his way through the small crack in their door, he wonders at the odd sounds coming from the bed.

He raises himself up on his back legs and climbs up, but the bed was rocking so much that he was overbalanced and he drops down, wondering why there was so much shaking…

He tries again, climbing up the bed, and he sees his master, gripping the bars on the end of the bed, his eyes closed and the human who feeds him on top of him, her hands on his chest and she was moving up and down.

A loud, high pitched sound came from his master and he leapt up on the bed barking at the lady who fed him, growling at her for hurting his master when she only laughs and pats his head and the master groans and stands from his position, picking him up and holding him close.

He licks at his master’s hand, whimpering at him and his master rises from the bed and takes him outside placing him down on the floor.

His master poured kibble and milk on his bowl and set it in front of him and he attacked it with gusto.

“Clark, stay. That’s a good boy.”

He plops himself on his butt, craning his ears as his master shut the door and a few minutes later he can hear the creak of the bed springs again… but this time his master was laughing so… it can’t be too bad? Right?

Well, at least until he finished eating he can’t help him anyway.

Yassi

They were just hanging out in a game bar, just playing random board games when she feels her breath become too funky from all the onions from the tacos she consumed earlier.

Nadine and her were in the toilet, which was empty save for the both of them as no one really was around in the game lounge at this time and she was rummaging through her bag for a Tic Tac when she saw that her trusty supply was depleted. Rolling her eyes she cursed Bret for probably eating them all when they were out last night.

“Nadz, hihingi akong breath spray ha.”

“Sure Yass. Check mo sa bag ko.” Nadine answers from inside the cubicle, where she has been in for the past fifteen minutes and Yassi rolls her eyes.

“Ikaw ha, jumejebs ka ba?”

She opens Nadine’s bag and smiles at the plethora of organizers Nadine has inside her purse and she opens up the white pouch which she knows to be her first aid emergency kit, including breath sprays, alcohol and wipes.

She takes the pouch and opens it, but a piece of tissue flurries out of the pouch and into the ground.

Humming to herself she plunges her hand inside the pouch to hold it while she bends to pick up the tissue and touches something sticky inside. Quirking her brows she abandons her tissue recovery mission and looks inside the pouch for the source of the stickiness. Something must have spilled in Nadine’s pouch.

“Nadz may sticky ata na natapon sa pouch- OH MY GOD KADIRI KADIRI YUCK YUCK YUCK YUCK FUCKING SHIT FUCKITY FUCK FUCK!”

Against her fingers was a knotted used up condom leaking in Nadine’s pouch and she was pretty sure she had some of James’ fluids against her hand. She let out another gruntled scream and she heard Nadine shuffling inside the stall

“Bakit, bakit?” Nadine came out of the stall in a hurry and Yassi shrieked and shoved the pouch at her and took her hand under running water, her gag reflex being activated at the thought of James’ semen against her hands and she glared at Nadine.

Nadine opens her pouch, sees the condom and bursts out laughing. 

“Putang ina niyo, gago ang haliparot niyo hindi mo man lang tinapon sa basurahan, fuck Nadine.”

“Mahirap na baka may pumulot pa.”

“Puta saan niyo nagawa yan magkakasama tayo all the time.”

“Yassi, you don’t want to know.”

“Hindi naman kayo nawala ah, the only time na sabay kayong nawala is when kinuha ni Jaye yung cards sa car… YUCK NADINE! I GET INSIDE YOUR CAR, I SIT IN THE BACK! YOU’VE BEEN FUCKING ALL THIS TIME THERE?”

Nadine winked saucily at her and handed her the bottle of breath spray.

“James is very good in tight spaces. Very good, if you know what I mean.”

Yassi shrieks again and keeps her hand under water before pumping a generous amount of soap from the dispenser into her hand.

“Haliparot niyo.”

Nadine winks cheekily at her and she laughs helplessly, somehow finding their bunny fucking behavior really cute.

Liza and Quen

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was cool, getting to see them, even though I’m really sleepy now… Quen?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s James and Nadine.”

He turns to look at the direction Liza was pointing at and sees James and Nadine entering a janitor’s closet near the dressing rooms, with Nadine biting her lip and tugging James by the shirt front.

He laughs as Liza flushes beside him giggling behind her hand.

“Kaya nahuhuli tong dalawang ito eh. What do we do?”

Liza turns to him and shakes her head.

“We have to help them then… I honestly don’t want Kathryn lording the fact that she made you famous over my head again when Naddie’s not there.”

“So… as usual, I guard the hall, you make the people stop coming here?”

“Yep. I don’t even want to guard the hall again. The sounds they make.”

They hear Nadine’s strangled moan of James’ name and Liza immediately turned on her heel and walked away.

“Good luck Quen!”

He takes out his ear pods and blasts his ears at full volume. This was not the first time he helped them after all. 

most independence days are like a person being captured, separated from their family, tortured, and then finally breaking free and wanting to celebrate that day every year for the rest of their life.

FREEDOM!

american independence day is like a person storming out of their parents’ house, after they brought him into the world and fed and raised him and paid for everything, because they started asking him to pay rent, and then petulantly throwing all of their tea into the loo on the way out… and then celebrating the anniversary of that day to exactly the same extent as the first guy, every single year, despite now being in his fifties.

FREEDOM!

“I’m very British at heart. When I come to England I say I’m coming home, and then it’s funny when I leave England to go back to LA I also say I’m going back home. So I feel like both places are home, but there’s something about being here that I just feel is so much a part of who I am, and even though I sound American, I love Marmite and beans on toast and tea. I still say the ‘car boot’ and ‘the loo’, I still use a lot of words where people in LA ask ‘what did you just say?’. So I do feel very, very British.”