#should i move to guernsey | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inuyashaluver · 1 month

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hi! could you write something for maya le tissier where she has an athlete gf for a sport like tennis or something and goes to one of her games? <3

ace - maya le tissier

maya le tissier x reader

description: in which you and your girlfriend are each other’s biggest fans

warnings: a little long? i think that’s it!

a/n: maya baby! thanks so much for the request, enjoyyy❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if someone told you and your girlfriend’s childhood selves that you both would not only live out your dreams of being together, but pursuing your lifelong passions as well, they’d have a heart attack.

you and maya, two peas in a pod have been absolutely inseparable since you were kids, growing up together in guernsey.

maya had always been drawn to football, having to play in the boys team just for some play time.

whereas, for you, it's always been tennis. you both met in school, running around crazily and excitedly during sports that no one seemed to enjoy. you quickly gravitated towards each other and never stopped from then on.

growing up in the same neighbourhood proved to be extremely beneficial for the two of you, countless afternoons spent at each other’s houses, chatting, laughing, yearning.

—

maya laid down a soft blanket in her backyard, the stars shining above as you came out with a tray of snacks in hand.

maya smiles when she sees you, hurriedly emptying your hands and ushering you to sit down. you both laughed and conversed, the pining glances almost unbearable when the other wouldn’t notice.

you lay down next to each other, your head resting on maya’s bicep as you both looked up at the stars. the cool breeze brushed against your skin but the warmth radiating from both of your bodies was all you needed.

maya would point out constellations to you, not in a scientific way but the maya way, making crazy pictures out of them just to hear your laugh.

“these are all your ancestors, star girl, say hi” maya teases, lifting up your hand and waving it excitedly, you laugh brightly, slapping her chest lightly as she giggles.

“says you, superstar” you mock, snuggling into her a little further when she pulled you closer slightly.

you and maya talked back and forth, about all your dreams, what you wanted to see the other doing in the future, swearing with a pinky promise the two of you would try your hardest to get there.

—

your friendship only blossomed as the two of you got older, even in high school the two of you proved to still be attached at the hip. so much so, people were questioning whether the two of you were dating. you both wished you were but were too scared.

you both joined better teams and facilities, still making an effort to spend all your free time together whenever you could. you and maya were each other's biggest supporters, through the thick and thin. celebrating the wins and the losses with a big hug which eased both of your worries.

—

“star girl!” maya beams brightly, holding her arms out to you as you walk into her embrace after a rare loss of a match. your head was nuzzled into her chest, the girl whispering words of praise to you as she gently rubbed up and down your back with her warm hand.

“i lost” you mumble against her training hoodie, “doesn’t matter, you were amazing as usual” maya says sternly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you hug her tightly.

you weren’t a sore loser, not at all, but there was something so gratifying about winning a match, especially if you knew maya was watching, the girl coming immediately after training just in time for your match.

you allow yourself to be vulnerable with maya, something she did with you too. there was no judgement, only love and support when your walls would break down.

you breathe out sadly against her and maya frowns a little, pulling you to be at arm's length from her. “should we go get some ice cream?” maya smiles softly, moving a stray hair bothering your eyes away, you pout up at her slightly and she would love nothing more than to kiss it away but she couldn’t.

“not sure i deserve it” you sigh, maya moves her hand to lightly flick your forehead, making you jolt back as she stifled a giggle, “of course you do, come on” she moves her hands to rest on your biceps, giving them a gentle squeeze before grabbing all your stuff in her arms despite your numerous protests.

a sharp glare was sent your way when your hand attempted to grab your racket bag, dropping your hand with a huff “may, you’re tired, let me hold it,” you groan, maya shakes her head with a chuckle, “so are you” she taunts, you shut your mouth at that, you were exhausted, not just physically.

you were instantly cheered up when maya took you for ice cream, maya proud of her work when you couldn’t stop smiling as she dropped you off home.

you pull her into a tight hug when she walked you to your door, “thank you” you whisper, kissing her cheek quickly, continuing to hold onto her tightly.

“anytime, babe” she says softly, her hands comfortingly pressed against your back before reluctantly letting you go.

—

you and maya both had a mutual understanding that you liked each other, it was pretty obvious with the amount of affection you had for one another.

though your relationship didn’t progress yet, both of you waiting to see who would make that first move. and funnily enough, maya did it by accident when you were both 17.

you give her a bright wave when she finally sees you from the pitch during the line up, she grins at you brightly and sends you an equally excited wave, gaining some teasing from her teammates that she shook off like it was nothing.

whenever you were at each other’s games, you played better than ever, wanting to impress one another, in reality, you could both just sit in silence and the other would be in absolute awe.

maya had placed exceptionally well, hearing you cheer for her loudly amongst everyone else. her team had won an easy 2-0 match, and when that final whistle blew, maya didn’t waste any time and bounded over to you.

when she approached you, she noticed you with her number written neatly on your cheek, her heart beating out of her chest as she took in your appearance, in your tennis gear that she loved.

“hi, gorgeous” she says as she nears you standing on the other side of the barrier, “hey, champion” you tease, a proud smile evident on your face.

maya chuckles, without thinking, cradling your cheek in her hand and pressing a quick, tender kiss to your lips, your breath hitched when you felt her warm lips against yours, tensing when she pulled away with an expression of horror.

“oh my god” she breathes out, “i’m so sorry, oh my god, i am so sorry, i wasn’t thinking!” she rambles, you blink at her slowly, slightly dazed.

her rambling continues while you just stare at her in slight shock, hearing apologies spill from her lips as she hyperventilates.

“may” you say softly, her eyes finally meeting yours as her breathing began to settle. “it’s okay” you smile, feeling a little brave and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. she’s bright red when you pull away, so were you but you really didn’t care.

you both just smile at each other for a couple of seconds before breaking out into large fits of giggles, maya pulling you into a tight embrace, a wordless confirmation for the both of you that forever just started.

—

when maya got signed to manchester united, you luckily got a new contract and coach lined up in manchester and you just couldn’t decline.

you both moved into an apartment that just radiated love and warmth. elements of you and maya imbued in the residence.

you and maya were highly established athletes, you’d won countless amounts of championships and grand slams that you couldn’t even display the trophies anymore.

maya as well was extremely well decorated, countless amounts of awards and accomplishments that struggled to be displayed as well.

and even though you and maya were incredibly passionate about sport, it always came a close second to the real first places in your hearts, each other.

you and maya always found beauty in the simple things in your lives, bundling up at home after a gruelling time at training. literally lying on top of each other as you cuddled, tuning out the rest of the world while you’d both lazily kiss away any worries of the day, the gentle lull of your shared favourite movie filling out the sounds of the room.

a frequent activity you and maya loved to do on the weekend being hand in hand exploring, whether it was a new cafe or just a walk around your street, you only needed the company of each other to feel that feeling of home. safety.

—

“baby?” she called out from the front door, smiling as she heard you running from the living room to see her standing in the entryway.

you waist no time jumping on the girl, she laughs brightly as she catches you by your thighs, her cheeks tinged with pink when you spread kisses all over her cheeks, purposely avoiding her lips.

“i missed you” you breathe out, maya smiles fondly, “i saw you this morning” she teases, you hush her with a sweet kiss to her lips, your mouths moving together softly before she places you back on the ground,

“missed you too, beautiful” she grins, pressing another kiss to your lips before hanging her keys on the hook next to her door and hurriedly taking off her shoes as you went back to the living room.

she quickly gets changed and smiles when she feels you hugging her from the back in your bedroom

“make dinner with me?” you mumble against her back, “of course” she says like it was obvious, waiting for you to spin around so she could playfully smack your backside, giggling when you sent her a halfhearted glare.

you did most of the work but maya helped diligently, helping you cut the vegetables for the pasta dish the two of you were making. moments like these were your favourite with maya, the little parts of life that made your heart feel fuzzy.

you stir the sauce gently as maya begins to huff in annoyance, “now what?” she groans, you laugh at her over your shoulder, “you wait now, baby” you smile, “let me stir” she demands, “no, you did it last time!” you laugh, maya comes up behind you and plants her hands firmly on your hips, relishing in the fact your outfit of choice was one of her jerseys.

she leans down to jokingly bite your shoulder, chuckling when you flinch under her, you stop stirring for a second and maya immediately takes over, claiming you weren’t good at your job.

you were sulking next to her, maya shaking her head amusingly as she picked you up and placed you on the counter next to her, one of her hands gently resting on your thigh as you both chatted about your days, talking about upcoming matches you both had slowly approaching.

maya would occasionally steal kisses amongst the laughter and the chatting, not that you were complaining, letting out a happy sigh against her lips when she kissed you a little longer, making her smile uncontrollably.

once dinner was ready, you both eat on the couch watching a romcom you’ve both watched a hundred times. a mutual favourite between the both of you. you and maya would quote the script to each other, laughing brightly at the movie.

by the time you’d both finished eating, you rest your head against her shoulder while you cuddled into her, giggling when maya would recreate the cringe moments in the movie to you just to hear you laugh.

whenever kiss scenes would come up, maya would scoff, always waiting for you to entertain her.

“he doesn’t know how to kiss a woman properly” maya shrugs, making you laugh and quickly shutting up when her head snapped towards you. “fine, i’ll prove it” maya grabbing your face and smashing her lips on yours, a kiss making you feel weak in the knees and completely light headed.

when she pulled away, she gave you a smug smile, winking and watching the movie like nothing even happened. funnily enough, she did this every time you watched this movie, you’re not complaining.

—

you were playing at wimbledon, maya couldn’t be more excited. you were already in london when maya had to stay back in manchester due to training, driving over as quick as she could to get there on time.

excitement bubbled in her veins when she entered the iconic wimbledon stadium, growing a little teary when she saw a picture of you for the final match, dressed completely in white according to the rules. maya snapped a photo of it, smiling brightly when she makes her way to your box.

she sits alongside your family, happily chatting while her leg bounced nervously as she waited to see you.

the cheers that echoed in the stadium when your name was called had her heart lurching, her eyes never leaving you as you walked out on the court completely composed .

maya always found you so attractive in times like this, never failing to remind you later on. you do the same thing when you watch her defending.

you just radiated confidence and determination when you took your step up on the court, highlighting why you were one of the best with each precise swing of your racket.

maya admired your skill, moments like these making her love you more than she ever could, endless. when you’d win a set, maya would cheer for you loudly with your family, bringing a little smile on your face when you could decipher her voice.

despite the pressure and intensity, you completely kept your cool, winning set for set when your focus was unwavering, executing each swing perfectly.

with a final breathtaking stroke, you sealed the title, when the match concluded, tears immediately welled in both yours and maya’s eyes, the crowd exploding into deafening cheers as your name was announced on the loudspeaker.

maya watched on proudly as you waved to the crowd, bowing to them and giving your opponent a warm hug in congratulations.

when you hoisted up that trophy, you looked straight at maya, both of you sporting bright grins as the cheers faded from your ears, the only thing mattering was each other.

as soon as all the formalities were over, maya rushed towards you, hoisting you up in a bone crushing hug. you cry into her shoulder as she cradles your head, whispering sweet nothings in you ear as you held on tight.

“my baby girl, so amazing, i’m so proud of you” maya says adoringly, her heart swelling with pride as she wiped away your happy tears. “i’m so happy you’re here, my lucky charm” you grin, your eyes glistening with gratitude when maya presses gentle kisses to your lips.

“you looked so good out there, you know?” maya smirks, her hand reaching to tug at the hem of your white skirt.

you laugh brightly at her, pulling her into another sweet kiss, “had to look pretty for my wag” you tease, maya chuckles, kissing your cheek affectionately, “my wag, my star girl” she says proudly, pulling you into another hug.

—

you both walked out of the stadium hand in hand, your hearts were full. maya boasted about you to your face and you couldn’t help but be sheepish around her compliments.

you had a taste of that pride when you watched maya play for manchester, wearing her jersey with a proud grin as you cheered loudly.

you and maya were each others biggest fans, and you both didn’t want it any other way.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

mayaletissier: i think i’ll stick to ball girl, wimbledon champ is too good for me

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yourname: hey, i think you’re good

↳ mayaletissier: don’t lie to me, you’re my girlfriend. you’re not supposed to lie.

↳ yourname: you’re a banging footballer, baby

↳ mayaletissier: i think i need private tennis lessons from a fit champion

↳ yourname: hm, i think i know someone

↳ mayaletissier: i think i can get you a private football coach too

↳ yourname: better be fit

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #maya le tissier #maya le tissier x reader

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rockislandadultreads · 2 years

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Feel Good Fiction: a reading list

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg

Folksy and fresh, endearing and affecting, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe is a now-classic novel about two women: Evelyn, who’s in the sad slump of middle age, and gray-headed Mrs. Threadgoode, who’s telling her life story. Her tale includes two more women—the irrepressibly daredevilish tomboy Idgie and her friend Ruth—who back in the thirties ran a little place in Whistle Stop, Alabama, offering good coffee, southern barbecue, and all kinds of love and laughter—even an occasional murder. And as the past unfolds, the present will never be quite the same again.

It's Not All Downhill from Here by Terry McMillan

After a sudden change of plans, a remarkable woman and her loyal group of friends try to figure out what she's going to do with the rest of her life. Loretha Curry's life is full. On the eve of her sixty-eighth birthday, she has a booming beauty supply empire, a gaggle of lifelong friends, and a husband who's still got moves that surprise. True, she's carrying a few more pounds than she should be, but she's not one of those women who thinks her best days are behind her, and she's determined to prove her mother, her twin sister, and everyone else with that outdated view of aging wrong—it's not all downhill from here. But when an unexpected loss turns her world upside down, Loretha will have to summon all her strength, resourcefulness, and determination to keep on thriving, pursue joy, heal old wounds, and chart new paths. With a little help from her friends, of course.

This Time Tomorrow by Emma Straub

What if you could take a vacation to your past? On the eve of her 40th birthday, Alice's life isn't terrible. She likes her job, even if it isn't exactly the one she expected. She's happy with her apartment, her romantic status, her independence, and she adores her lifelong best friend. But her father is ailing, and it feels to her as if something is missing. When she wakes up the next morning she finds herself back in 1996, reliving her 16th birthday. But it isn't just her adolescent body that shocks her, or seeing her high school crush, it's her dad: the vital, charming, 40-something version of her father with whom she is reunited. Now armed with a new perspective on her own life and his, some past events take on new meaning. Is there anything that she would change if she could?

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer, Annie Barrows

"I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some sort of secret homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers." January 1946: London is emerging from the shadow of the Second World War, and writer Juliet Ashton is looking for her next book subject. Who could imagine that she would find it in a letter from a man she's never met, a native of the island of Guernsey, who has come across her name written inside a book by Charles Lamb... As Juliet and her new correspondent exchange letters, Juliet is drawn into the world of this man and his friends—and what a wonderfully eccentric world it is. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society—born as a spur-of-the-moment alibi when its members were discovered breaking curfew by the Germans occupying their island—boasts a charming, funny, deeply human cast of characters, from pig farmers to phrenologists, literature lovers all. Juliet begins a remarkable correspondence with the society's members, learning about their island, their taste in books, and the impact the recent German occupation has had on their lives. Captivated by their stories, she sets sail for Guernsey, and what she finds will change her forever. Written with warmth and humor as a series of letters, this novel is a celebration of the written word in all its guises and of finding connection in the most surprising ways.

#Fiction #historical fiction #Historical #contemporary fiction #adult fiction #to read #tbr #booklr #themed reading #feel good books #relaxed reading #books to read #reading recommendations #Book Recommendations #library books

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rosemarygrey · 6 months

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Lucabeth Breakup: bad writing or Classic plot trope?

I know there have been very polar and mixed Feeling about the breaking up of a couple that have been together for 2 full seasons just before the expected wedding and it is valid that if they were your favourite couple that you would feel angry and upset today i'm not going to be adressing which guy was better or who she should have ended up with, but rather the actual way they wrote Elizabeth and Lucas's growing apart to the point of seperation.

First of all broken engagements are not exactly new to the movie and tv world, and it is actually fairly common to have the heroine (or hero) choose the wrong person fist only to find that they have blindly missed there true love right in front of them, or perhaps there true lve came along after they had got enaged. so lets take a look at a few of those examples...

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (movie version). the heroine Juliet has just published her first book after the war when flowers start appearing at her flat. after a period of mystery she discovers they have been sent by an american owner of a publishing company who wants to meet her as an author but falls in love with her, she is a little hesitant at first, but she falls for his book character like charm and goes on a carnival of fancy dates, flowers and dancing, then she starts getting letters from a society of gurnsey and is so moved by them that she decides she's like to visit them and see if she can get ideas for her times article, she is about to go when her boyfriend proposes and she happily agrees, when she arrives in guernsey she finds that it is still haunted by the stories of the occupation and she feels self concious about her ring making her seem unaproachably hoigty toight so she takes it off, she meets the society in person and enjoys time with the sweet but very shy Dawsey Adams but just as he begins to open up to her mistakenly thinking she's single, her fiancee returns and seeing the contrast she realises that her fiancee would never want the same things in life that she wants, and that Dawsey is her soulmate, so she breaks it off and a lot of things happen ;) no spoilers about that!

The sound of music: the captian gets engaged to the charming baroness before he slowly finds himself falling for the more spirited and harum scarum maria

Sanditon tv series: In sanditon the heroine charlotte has lost her late love sidney and after grieving she opens herself up again to love and gets caught in a triangle between a milita officer and the heartbroken, reserved uncle of the children she is governess to: alexander cloborne, she falls for Alexander after she discovers the militia officer is not the gentleman he appeared to be but they keep misunderstanding one another and she thinks he is not going to propose and gets upset,leaves in tears to her hometown, gets engaged to a good family freind ralph. she returns to sandition with ralph where she keeps being thrown in the path of mr colborne, she realises she was mistaken in thinking he didn't care and that in trying to protect herself from hurt she has now made herself more pain, she tries to force herself to continue her relationship with ralph becuse she doesn't want to be unfair, but he starts to notice that her hearts not in it and she realises it is more unkind to pretend to love him so she breaks it off and Ralph leaves sanditon heartbroken. then a lot of things get in the way and i'll leave you to guess the end.

these are my top three enjoyable movies that include a broken engagement. but in all of there there was one thing that made the breakup acceptable or even wanted by the viewers and what was that?

it is simple that we were shown a clear peek at the end goal before we grew too attached to the engaged couple, in Gurnsey we see the imbalence that Mark renolds (the american) is much more flashy than juliet and we are given the idea that he is a distraction. In the sound of music we are given the childeren's disspointed reactions to there fathers engagement and we see the baronesses shallow attitudes about wanting to get the childeren off her hands and into school. In sanditon we see that although ralph is definatly in love with charlotte we know she made the decision in pain and we are shown several instances of charlotte misscomunicating or hiding things from ralph.

so did we really get enough hints that this is where they were going with Lucas and Elizabeth, Frankly No, we did not, We got hints she would choose nathan in season 8 but when she did not we settled down into a lucabeth ending and were given No hints he was a safe choice, no hints that Elizabeth's heart wasn't in it, but that is becuase they didn't make the decision until season 10 began. then they began to thread in those hints, such as the disagreement over the house, cake and grand gestures and little jack going to sit with Nathan and Allie in church, but it was too late for many Lucabeth fans, They used the reasonable differences in character that Team Nathan had pointed out didn't really fit, but they used them too late to give the Lucabeth Fans a strong idea of what was coming so they could adjust to it. that was a bit of a mistake, but they still made the decision out of good intentions as they can see the inner workings that we cannot, they have reasons they can't say as to why they had to make that decision but it wasn't made to upset the fans it was made out of an unamed neccessity to continue the show. maybe chris saw that he didn't want to stay on as a major full time character for the 20 season they were hoping for and he decided to step back now so that they didn't have the major problem they had when Daniel lissing left. that doesn't mean he's leaveing now, but that is just one of the many things that could have affected the writing. so yes it wasn't the ideal way of writing a change of the story, but if it needed to be done they could have done it worse, instead as soon as they knew they started hinting so that lucabeth fans were already dreading the switch before it happened thus preparing them for the hard blow so it didn't completely knock them over. they tried to make it as respectful as possible within the sudden timeframe they had and considering it that way my final conclusion is that No it wasn't bad writing, it wasn't the best writing, but it cirtainly wasn't the worst considering that we now know they have reasons they can't specify why they had to decide to switch.

My heartfelt sympthay to those who have been dissapointed in the season.

#when calls the heart #lucabeth #nathan x elizabeth #elizabeth thornton #elizabeth thatcher

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kigiom · 2 years

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"Do you believe in ghosts, Tommy?"

The wind whistles outside. Jens is looking at him, that cryptic smile of his gracing his face even as he chews on the end of his pipe.

"I suppose not," Newnham replies, thoughtful. The room smells of smoke, and he feels the pull of the cold through the chinks in his sleeves, slipping in under his collar, like cold fingers. "And you?"

"Of a kind." Jens' voice is rough, his accent thickening like hoarfrost. "I've seen them."

Newnham almost laughs, but as he looks into Jens' shrewd, unreadable eyes the wind utters a scream that makes him wince, sends a chill up his spine.

"You've seen ghosts." For a moment, Newnham is no longer so certain of his own Christian beliefs, that the dead do not rise from their graves. That ghosts are merely follies.

"Oh, yes." Jens stretches his legs out, knocking their feet together as he does so. He waves a hand in Newnham's face. "You English, you're all the same. You don't know the ice. You don't know your own land. Pah, you say, ghosts. What nonsense. You haven't seen a dead whale. You haven't seen its blood all over the ship. Now that's a ghost, not to speak of the ghosts in the ice, in the sea."

"I thought ghosts were merely the unquiet dead?"

"Spirits, they are," Jens declares, and puffs imperiously at his pipe. "Spirits, Thomas. I would bet they are all around this house now. It is cold, and they want to warm themselves. We are warm, don't you see?"

Newnham feels his stomach drop, something heavy settle in his limbs. "Jens-"

Jens laughs in delight, and leans across to slap Newnham's thigh. He leaves his broad, warm hand there. Newnham stares at it, swallows. He feels his pulse rabbiting in his throat; he looks up, out of the window. It's black, icy. There is nothing to see. Jens' hand is seeping warmth into him, up into his stomach.

"Scared?" Jens teases.

With a roll of his eyes, Newnham settles back deeper into his chair. "Of course not."

"Oh, but you should be." Jens' smile has teeth, the edge of a canine. "We had better stay close, you and I, ah, Tommy. So they don't leave us too cold to move."

The fire spits. Jens takes his hand away. Outside, the morning is still black: Newnham wonders how much longer they will be trapped in here. He frowns, and abruptly realises he misses England and its mildly bleak winters. It's likely snowed only an inch, over there, and here he is stuck in a cabin in Norway while the wind howls and the forbidding winter cloaks everything in ice, which a day ago had made everything hard and brilliant, like diamond, but now blots the very sky out into permanent night. Jens had said, don't worry, we won't die, and gone into the next room to fetch dry meat for them to gnaw at while they waited the blizzard out.

It is strange, Newnham reflects, where life brings you. A year ago, he'd been thrown off a ship in a storm, into the black, black sea. A whaling ship on its way back to Hull had found him half-dead, and he had spent a week sharing a stinking berth with one Jens Andersen, the man he owed his life to, the man who spent days rubbing warmth and life back into him.

Jens had taken a liking to him, thankfully. The crew mostly avoid Newnham, but Jens had given him his spare guernsey, only his eyes twinkling in his weathered face when it had been uproariously big on Newnham. He had listened solemnly when Newnham had stammered out his name, Doctor Thomas Newnham, that is, I'm not really a doctor anymore, and with a beguiling serenity had said: to me you are now Tommy. That is what you English call a man named Thomas who is a friend, is it not?

A day away from Hull, he had sat on the berth next to Newnham and silently gone about stitching up the rips in his trousers. His spare pair was on Newnham, who saw with mild embarrassment how the fine hairs on Jens' legs were prickling into goosebumps from the cold.

Jens had been singing something softly, under his breath.

"A lullaby," Jens had smiled when Newnham had asked what it was. "I cannot remember half the words, you know, but I know the tune in my very bones."

They were silent for a moment, and then Jens started humming it again. Silence, again, and then: "You are an interesting man, Tommy. The crew are convinced you were dead, and have been resurrected. That is why they fear you. But I should be sad to be parted with you so soon."

Newnham, startled, had stammered: "I cannot argue that you resurrected me. If I owe you my life, you may as well have done so."

"Ah," Jens smiled again, not looking up from his needlework. "But, Tommy, that would make me a God. And I am no God."

#north northeast #i have yet to name it so. that'll do #im quite proud of the vibes!! it's funky #thomas.docx

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dwestfieldblog · 1 year

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SEE YOU SOON MUM

(This is a quickly written exorcism of the last week, the usual pseudo psychedelic rants (almost written already) will follow next month. Had to get this out, it has been read over only once, not for readability but for honesty.)

February Thursday 16th

Our last actual talk, mum made no sense at all. Long distant memories, cut up sentences and mild hallucinations. I came into the room to find she was curled up with her head at the opposite end of the bed. She had been refusing all pills for a couple of days but I showed her many old photographs of her family and life and got her to sit up on her side enough to feed her orange jelly and some egg custard. Counting down the spoons and praising her like a child. Happy the nurses had brushed and plaited her long hair.

On that day a kind social worker came in and asked her if she could borrow me for a few minutes and mum cried, now in her bedside chair by the garden window. In my mask and blurred eyes, I wept, choking out guilt and questions outside the room. Back in to see mum having her oxycodone pump renewed with stronger dosage as it was obvious she had still not been telling them about her pain levels, however much I explained why she should and begged her to. She was also given more oral morphine. I told her gruffly to stay alive.)

February Saturday 18th

When I returned to this doomed island and found out after two months how ill my mother was, I truly thought I could heal her somehow, just by focusing all attention and using rational methods as well as any ‘gifts’ I had. Failed on every level. After weeks in hospital, I told her I had to get her home and safe. Mum fixed me with a look and said ‘Be careful what you wish for’. So old now it is impossible to imagine a world in which my mother is not. She has always been here. To actually be told the sentence ‘She has days/hours now’ about one you love beyond all others is a shattering thing. Seven and a half hours beside her today without a word spoken or eyes opening while I kissed her, stroked her head and held her hand. Each day, less of her remains. Death as an absolute end is ridiculous but watching a loved one vanishing into decay is just too bloody real. I know better than this but it doesn’t matter now, does not break through the total hurt.

February Monday 20th

Another long visit, without any communication from mum. The nurses had put on Radio Three on the tv and I told them that was how I got into music, because she always played that every morning at breakfast before I went to school. That memory brought tears as one of the main roads which made me. Her loved Puffin, a soft toy from Guernsey was tucked up with her on its side facing her. (I was told later she had urgently rung the nurses one night over and over and when they had got there, she told them Puffin had fallen out of bed. This made them smile but I imagined her desperation.)

I sang a couple of lines to her from a song as sunshine reached her skin. Her nightdress had moved down and her plait was curled in the hollow of her shoulder. Drew a cross on her forehead, down her nose with my finger and kissed the centre . Mum’s breathing was rhythmically gurgling fluid which I was told was rising, not secreted from above and they gave her a shot of some drug to dry it up. She was leaking thick mucus from the side of her mouth and I wiped it away. Left as usual with a hopefully smiling voice saying ‘See you tomorrow’. Knowing.

There is love inside you, love around you, you have always been loved, I have always loved you and will always love you, you came from love and will return to love. This litany repeated on a loop for the final two visits as I held her hand or stroked her head, kissing.

Thank you for giving me life, thank you for raising me.

See you tomorrow mum.

………………………………………………………

Woke up on 21st at 1am. At 7am the phone rang to say mum had left at 1 in the morning. I took a taxi to the hospice, went into her room where curtains were drawn and a quietly humming machine was keeping a hidden blanket cooling. I removed my mask, whispered ‘Told you I would see you today’ and then began weeping again, standing broken, choking sobs wanting to howl like an animal on all fours. I cradled the back of mum’s head, kissed her cold forehead, cheeks and then her open mouth. Went to the other side of the bed and did this again and repeated my litany before I wept again. Left to deal with head nurse, paperwork and phone calls to the cremation company. Returned to see her and renewed my goodbyes.

Even though she had not moved the last two days I had visited, it still didn’t make sense to my brain that there was no reaction to the kisses, I kept expecting her to open her eyes. To move, to wake up as she had at home in the mornings. Could not stop crying. Went back to the glass room beside the big garden with the large stone pond and zen arrangements, walked around looking at the woods. Back inside, walked past an alcove where they had lit a candle for my mother. ‘It stays alight until she has been collected’. Wept again.

Before I returned home, I visited mum for a third time and repeated the ritual of words and kissing. Swear her mouth had changed just a little on the way to a smile. Took photographs, feeling it was wrong but could not leave without a fixed document for memory. Said ‘Goodbye mum, see you soon’ as I always did when the taxi came to take me to the airport and back to Prague, even when I knew it could be six months. Home, wept, howled. Opened the bags of clothes, the smell of her mixed with hospice filled the sitting room and I cried again. And this will just continue until it stops.

Don’t want to see anybody I know, just keeping as busy as possible dealing with all the legal, utility bill, certificated and emotional fallout. Not drinking any more than usual every night but wish I had more Tramadol than I do. Would give all my money, music and life for one more day to see mum alive. This is killing me and I am letting it. Normal shattering human grief. Never felt it this bad before. Will do my own private service on Sunday by candlelight and another on Mothers Day if I get there. At this very moment wish I was not here, can’t do this life nonsense anymore.

LOVE you mum. LOVE YOU, see you soon.

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able-community-care-blog · 2 years

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Lists Which Do Not Help The Bed Blocking problem. Several media outlets return to the bed-blocking problem brought on because of the lack of home care for patients who are ready for discharge with support. Whilst there is undoubtedly a shortage of care staff, the problem is hindered by a system that is not dynamic. In many Councils, finding a home care provider is about the Care Providers List issued by the Council or on websites with relevance for people seeking care information. These lists, which can be many pages long, are given to private fee payers and are used by those who work in social services whose role it is to find care for council/NHS-funded patients. Recently, going through my local council home care providers list, I found the following: Care providers who had changed their names had moved addresses or who no longer existed. Other care providers who were not on the list. This list, was also when printed off in such small print that it was difficult to read. In addition, the list gave no indication as to whether the home care provider was an hourly care provider, a live-in provider, a nursing/care agency, or had average costs, etc. Should such a list, whether printed out or online, be a list that was relevant and up to date, then finding care support for some of the patients bed blocking would get a little easier. #liveincarer #liveincare #caregiver #norwich #liveincarers #norfolk #devon #cambridge #essex #highlands #norwichcity #NorwichJobs #jobsnorwich #cardiff #aberdeen #northyorkshire #scottishhighlands #guernsey #cornwall #ablecomcare #glasgow #scotland #portsmouth #carework #london #wales #suffolk #tyneandwear #kent https://www.instagram.com/p/Ch7CeWboFXM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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timelesstimesgoneby · 2 years

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Episode Season 1 Disc 1 S01E01 DARRIN, TAKE THIS WITCH SAMANTHA S01E02 BE IT EVER SO MORTGAGED S01E03 IT SHOULDN'T HAPPEN TO A DOG S01E04 MOTHER MEET WHAT'S HIS NAME S01E05 HELP, HELP, DON'T SAVE ME S01E06 LITTLE PITCHERS HAVE BIG FEARS S01E07 THE WITCHES ARE OUT S01E08 WITCH OR WIFE S01E09 THE GIRL REPORTER S01E10 JUST ONE HAPPY FAMILY S01E11 IT TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE S01E12 AND SOMETHING MAKES THREE Disc 2 S01E13 LOVE IS BLIND S01E14 SAMANTHA MEETS THE FOLKS S01E15 A VISION OF SUGAR PLUMS S01E16 IT'S MAGIC S01E17 A IS FOR AARDVARK S01E18 THE CAT'S MEOW S01E19 A NICE LITTLE DINNER PARTY S01E20 YOUR WITCH IS SHOWING S01E21 LING LING S01E22 EYE OF THE BEHOLDER S01E23 RED LIGHT, GREEN LIGHT S01E24 WHICH WITCH IS WHICH? Disc 3 S01E25 PLEASURE O'RILEY S01E26 DRIVING IS THE ONLY WAY TO FLY S01E27 THERE'S NO WITCH LIKE AN OLD WITCH. S01E28 OPEN THE DOOR WITCHCRAFT S01E29 ABNER KADABRA S01E30 GEORGE THE WARLOCK S01E31 THAT WAS MY WIFE S01E32 ILLEGAL SEPARATION S01E33 A CHANGE OF FACE S01E34 REMEMBER THE MAIN S01E35 EAT AT MARIO'S S01E36 COUSIN EDGAR S02E09 SEASON TWO disc 4 S2E01 ALIAS DARRIN STEPHENS S2E02 A VERY SPECIAL DELIVERY S2E03 WE'RE IN FOR A BAD SPELL S2E04 MY GRANDSON, THE WARLOCK S2E05 THE JOKER IS A CARD S2E06 TAKE TWO ASPIRINS AND HALF A PINT OF PORPOISE MILK S2E07 TRICK OR TREAT S2E08 THE VERY INFORMAL DRESS S2E09 AND THEN I WROTE S2E10 JUNIOR EXECUTIVE S2E11 AUNT CLARA'S OLD FLAME S2E12 A STRANGE LITTLE VISITOR Disc 5 S2E13 MY BOSS. THE TEDDY BEAR S2E14 SPEAK THE TRUTH S2E15 A VISION OF SUGAR PLUMS S2E16 THE MAGIC CABIN S2E17 MAID TO ORDER S2E18 AND THEN THERE WERE THREE S2E19 MY BABY, THE TYCOON S2E20 SAMANTHA MEETS THE FOLKS S2E21 FASTEST GUN ON MADISON AVENUE S2E22 THE DANCING BEAR S2E23 DOUBLE TATE S2E24 SAMANTHA, THE DRESSMAKER S2E25 THE HORSE'S MOUTH Disc 6 S2E26 BABY'S FIRST PARAGRAPH S2E27 THE LEPRECHAUN S2E28 DOUBLE SPLIT S2E29 DISAPPEARING SAMANTHA S2E30 FOLLOW THAT WITCH (PART I) S2E31 FOLLOW THAT WITCH (PART ID) S2E32 A BUM RAPS S2E33 DIVIDED HE FALLS S2E34 MAN'S BEST FRIEND S2E35 THE CATNAPPER S2E36 WHAT EVERY YOUNG MAN SHOULD KNOW S2E37 THE GIRL WITH THE GOLDEN NOSE S2E38 PRODIGY SEASON THREE Disc 7 S03E01 NORODY'S PERFECT S03E02 THE MOMENT OF TRUTH S03E03 WITCHES & WARLOCKS ARE MY FAVORITE THINGS S03E04 ACCIDENTAL TWINS S03E05 A MOST UNUSUAL WOOD NYMPH S03E06 ENDORA MOVES IN FOR A SPELL S03E07 TWITCH OR TREAT S03E08 DANGEROUS DIAPER DAN S03E09 THE SHORT HAPPY CIRCUIT OF AUNT CLARA S03E10 I'D RATHER TWITCH THAN FIGHT S03E11 OEDIPUS HEX Disc 8 S03E12 SAM'S SPOOKY CHAIR S03E13 MY FRIEND BEN S03E14 SAMANTHA FOR THE DEFENSE S03E15 A GAZEBO NEVER FORGETS S03E16 SOAPBOX DERBY S03E17 SAM IN THE MOON S03E18 HOHO THE CLOWN S03E19 SUPER CAR S03E20 THE CORN IS AS HIGH AS A GUERNSEY'S EYE S03E21 TRIAL AND ERROR OF AUNT CLARA S03E22 THREE WISHES Disc 9 S03E23 I REMEMBER YOU - SOMETIMES S03E24 ART FOR SAM'S SAKE S03E25 CHARLIE HARPER, WINNER S03E26 AUNT CLARA'S VICTORIA VICTORY S03E27 THE CRONE OF CAWDOR S03E28 NO MORE MR. NICE GUY S03E29 IT'S WISHCRAFT S03E30 HOW TO FAIL IN BUSINESS WITH ALL KINDS OF HELP S03E31 BEWITCHED, BOTHERED AND INFURIATED S03E32 NOBODY BUT A FROG KNOWS HOW TO LIVE S03E33 THERE'S GOLD IN THEM THAR PILLS SEASON FOUR Disc 10 S04E01 LONG LIVE THE OUEEN S04E02 TOYS IN BABELAND S04E03 BUSINESS, ITALIAN STYLE S04E04 DOUBLE DOUBLE. TOIL AND TROUBLE S04E05 CHEAP, CHEAP S04E06 NO ZIP IN MY ZAP S04E07 BIRDIES, BOGIES AND BAXTER S04E08 SAFE AND SANE HALLOWEEN S04E09 OUT OF SYNC, OUT OF MIND S04E10 THAT WAS NO CHICK, THAT WAS MY WIFE S04E11 ALLERGIC TO ANCIENT MACEDONIAN DODO BIRDS Disc 11 S04E12 SAMANTHA'S THANKSGIVING TO REMEMBER S04E13 SOLID GOLD MOTHER-IN-LAW S04E14 MY WHAT BIG EARS YOU HAVE S04E15 ¡GET YOUR NANNY- YOU GET MY GOAT S04E16 HUMBUG NOT TO BE SPOKEN HERE S04E17 "SAMANTHA'S DA VINCI DILEMMA S04E18 ONCE IN A VIAL S04E19 SNOB IN THE GRASS S04E20 IF THEY NEVER MET S04E21 HIPPIE HIPPIE HOORAY S04E22 A PRINCE OF A GUY Disc 12 S04E23 MC TAVISH S04E24 HOW GREEN WAS MY GRASS S04E25 TO TWITCH OR NOT TO TWITCH S04E26 PLAYMATES S04E27 TABITHA'S CRANKY SPELL S04E28 I CONFESS S04E29 A MAJORITY OF TWO S04E30 SAMANTHA'S SECRET SAUCER S04E31 THE NO-HARM CHARM S04E32 MAN OF THE YEAR S04E33 SPLITSVILLE Disc 13 SEASON FIVE S03E01 SAMANTHA'S WEDDING PRESENT S03E02 SAMANTHA GOES SOUTH FOR A SPELL S03E03 SAMANTHA ON THE KEYBOARD S03E04 DARRIN, GONE AND FORGOTTEN S03E05 ITS SO NICE TO HAVE A SPOUSE AROUND THE HOUSE S03E06 MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL S03E07 SAMANTHA'S FRENCH PASTRY S03E08 1S IT MAGIC OR IMAGINATION? S03E09 SAMANTHA FIGHTS CITY HALL S03E10 SAMANTHA LOSES HER VOICE Disc 14 S03E11 I DON'T WANT TO BE A TOAD, I WANT TO BE A BUTTERFLY S03E12 WEEP NO MORE MY WILLOW S03E13 INSTANT COURTESY S03E14 SAMANTHA'S SUPERMAID S03E15 COUSIN SERENA STRIKES AGAIN (PART I) S03E16 COUSIN SERENA STRIKES AGAIN (PART II) S03E17 ONE TOUCH OF MIDAS S03E18 SAMANTRA, THE BARD S03E19 SAMANTHA, THE SCULPTRESS S03E20 MRS, STEPHENS, WHERE ARE YOU? Disc 15 S03E21 MARRIAGE WITCHES STYLE S03E22 GOING APE S03E23 TABITHA'S WEEKEND S03E24 THE BATTLE OF BURNING DAK S03E25 SAMANTHA'S POWER FAILURE S03E26 SAMANTHA TWITCHES FOR UNICEF S03E27 DADDY DOES HIS THING S03E28 SAMANTHA'S GOOD NEWS S03E29 SAMANTHA'S SHOPPING SPREE S03E30 SAMANTHA AND DARRIN IN MEXICO CITY SEASON SIX Disc 16 S06E01 SAMANTHA AND THE BEANSTALK S06E02 SAMANTHA'S YOO HO MAID S06E03 SAMANTHA'S CAESAR SALAD S06E04 SAMANTHA'S CURIOUS CRAVINGS S06E05 AND SOMETHING MAKES FOUR S06E06 NAMING SAMANTHA'S NEW BABY S06E07 TO TRICK OR TREAT OR NOT TO TRICK OR TREAT S06E08 A BUNNY FOR TABITHA S06E09 SAMANTHA'S SECRET SPELL S06E10 DADDY COMES TO VISIT Disc 17 S06E11 DARRIN THE WARLOCK S06E12 SAMANTHA'S DOUBLE MOTHER TROUBLE S06E13 YOU'RE SO AGREEABLE S06E14 SANTA COMES TO VISIT AND STAYS AND STAYS S06E15 SAMANTHA'S BETTER HALVES S06E16 SAMANTHA'S LOST WEEKEND S06E17 THE PHRASE IS FAMILIAR S06E18 SAMANTHA'S SECRET IS DISCOVERED S06E19 TABITHA'S VERY OWN SAMANTHA S06E20 SUPER ARTHUR Disc 18 S06E21 WHAT MAKES DARRIN RUN S06E22 SERENA STOPS THE SHOW S06E23 JUST A KID AGAIN S06E24 GENERATION ZAP S06E25 OKAY, WHO'S THE WISE WITCH S06E26 A CHANCE ON LOVE S06E27 IF THE SHOE PINCHES S06E28 MONA SAMMY S06E29 TURN ON THAT OLD CHARM S06E30 MAKE LOVE, NOT HATE SEASON SEVEN Disc 19 S07E01 to GO OR NOT TO GO, THAT IS THE QUESTION S07E02 SALEM HERE WE COME S07E03 SALEM SAGA S07E04 SAMANTHA'S HOT BEDWARMER S07E05 DARRIN ON A PEDESTAL S07E06 PAUL REVERE RIDES AGAIN S07E07 SAMANTHA'S BAD DAY IN SALEM S07E08 SAMANTHA'S OLD SALEM TRIP S07E09 SAMANTHA'S PET WARLOCK S07E10 SAMANTHA'S OLD MAN S07E11 THE CORSICAN COUSINS S07E12 SAMANTHA'S MAGIC POTION S07E13 SISTERS AT HEART S07E14 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW OF THE YEAR Disc 20 S07E15 MARY THE GOOD FAIRY S07E16 THE GOOD FAIRY STRIKES AGAIN S07E17 THE RETURN OF DARRIN THE BOLO S07E18 THE HOUSE THAT UNCLE ARTHUR BUILT S07E19 SAMANTHA AND THE TROLL S07E20 THIS LITTLE PIGGIE S07E21 MIXED DOUBLES S07E22 DARRIN GOES APE S07E23 MONEY HAPPY RETURNS S07E24 OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES S07E25 SAMANTHA'S PSYCHIC PSLIP S07E26 SAMANTHA'S MAGIC MIRROR S07E27 LAUGH CLOWN, LAUGH S07E28 SAMANTHA AND THE ANTIQUE DOLL SEASON EIGHT Disc 21 S08E01 HOW NOT TO LÖS€ YOUR HEAD TO HENRY VIN (PART D) S08E02 HOW NOT TO LOSE YOUR HEAD TO HENRY VIN (PART ID) S08E03 SAMANTHA AND THE LOCH NESS MONSTER S08E04 SAMANTHA'S NOT SO LEANING TOWER OF PISA S08E05 BEWITCHED, BOTHERED AND BALDONI S08E06 PARIS, WITCHES STYLE S08E07 THE GHOST WHO MADE A SPECTRE OF HIMSELF S08E08 TV OR NOT TV S08E09 A PLAGUE ON MAURICE AND SAMANTHA S08E10 HANSEL AND GRETEL IN SAMANTHALAND S08E11 THE WARLOCK IN THE GRAY FLANNEL SUIT S08E12 THE EIGHT YEAR ITCH WITCH S08E13 3 MEN AND A WITCH ON A HORSE disc 22 S08E14 ADAM, WARLOCK OR WASHOUT S08E15 "SAMANTHA'S MAGIC SITTER S08E16 SAMANTHA IS EARTHBOUND S08E17 SERENA'S RICHCRAFT S08E18 SAMANTHA ON THIN ICE S08E19 SERENA'S YOUTH PILL S08E20 TABITHA'S FIRST DAY IN SCHOOL S08E21 GEORGE WASHINGTON ZAPPED HERE (PART D) S08E22 GEORGE WASHINGTON ZAPPED HERE (PART II) S08E23 SCHOOL DAYS, SCHOOL DAZE S08E24 A GOOD TURN NEVER GOES UNPUNISHED S08E25 SAMANTHA'S WITCHCRAFT BLOWS A FUSE S08E26 THE TRUTH, NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH, SO HELP ME SAM

#tv series episode #episode #episode guide #tv series #complete series #dvd #bewitched

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orebic-travel · 3 years

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DRIVING In Guernsey Channel Islands - The Coast to St Sampsons 🏖

DRIVING In Guernsey Channel Islands – The Coast to St Sampsons 🏖

In this video we go DRIVING In Guernsey Channel Islands – The Coast to St Sampsons – Guernsey is one of the Channel Islands located in the English …

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#channel islands #DRIVING In Guernsey Channel Islands - The Coast to St Sampsons #guernsey #Guernsey Channel islands #Guernsey island #How big is guernsey #how many people live in guernsey #is guernsey part of the uk #Jersey channel islands #living in guernsey #living in the channel islands #Living on a island #should i move to guernsey #st peter port guernsey #the bailiwick of guernsey #what beaches are in guernsey #where is guernsey

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mrburnsnuclearpussy · 3 years

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I think I might just be exhausted from animating for so long for the deadline and I kind of want to draw but also don’t want to strain my eyes and hand any more because I probably really need a break, so I’m thinking this might be the good opportunity to use up my clay and make a little model? But I can’t decide what to make! Hm

#do I make a Data? do I make the whole crew mini versions ? an animal? dragon?#a cool tiger or dragon statue might be cool #I think taking a break form drawing on a screen is really what I need #I do feel better than earlier today now though as I literally thought I was dying for a sec lol and #couldn’t move-eyes burning-horrid headache -so fatigued and sleet despite getting full nights sleep #also slightly nauseous #I accidentally ad a short nap and closed my eyes for ages as well-took dork paracetamol and had a shower and thankfully I feel better but I #should really be careful #also could talk it was gonna trigger me but after talking to my dad on the phone and also my flatmate (he was showing me how to make a food)#I feeling better but yeah I gotta be careful #should be ok and I haven’t got long to go now before I’m back in Guernsey and not isolated anymore ❤️ 😭 which I really need #yeah random update :p #personal

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inuyashaluver · 6 months

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we were girls together - maya le tissier

maya le tissier x reader

description: in which you and maya are childhood friends, attached at the hip, however, you begin to question your relationship when maya is suddenly all you’re thinking about

warnings: silly girls pining over each other, quite long!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

maya le tissier was your lifelong best friend. you met her at school in guernsey, both of you playing for the boys team at st. martins, being the only girls on the team, you depended on each other and grew closer every second. now, you had gone through the exact same clubs together, just two best friends known as the ‘dynamic duo’ maya, an incredible defender, you, a star striker.

you had both managed to land yourself a signing at manchester united.

life at man-u could not have been better, you had your best friend with you at all times, both of you finding a small but homey flat and immediately moving in together. your flat was full of laughter, joy and a whole lot of love. you and maya always ended up cuddled under a blanket on your couch, your position always her flat on the couch as your smaller body lay on top of her, legs tangled and watching mindless tv.

once, ella and alessia wanted to come over and surprise you guys as alessia had come down from london to see you, finding a spare key under your doormat (very silly) they open the door. to their surprise, there you both were, sleeping and cuddling. they both looked at each other confused, have you been dating the whole time?

alessia and ella could not let this slide, and lessi hyped up ella to confront at least you about it. you were known to easily give up information, your innocence was pure and frequently taken advantage of. maya in response to this was your defender, both on and off the pitch. she made sure her best friend was safe at all times, safe in hers and your eyes, her.

training had gone through smoothly, you and maya partners for every exercise. ella had been trying to get you away from her, but each attempt, maya would wrap her arms around you, resting her chin on your shoulder,

“she’s mine tooney” she taunted

“alright L. T. I just want to chat to your little girlfriend for a bit alright?”

maya’s face was slightly flushed, her hands moving from wrapped around your waist to her hands firmly gripping your hips. your head filled with so many thoughts about why tooney would want to talk to you. you placed your hands on top of maya’s and gave them a reassuring squeeze, turning your head towards her

“I’ll be right back may, I’ll be fine I promise”

she nodded at you and let her hands fall from your waist, you turned around to walk with ella before registering your best friend’s yearning and adoring look she sent her way. zalem patted her on the shoulder as she whispered in her ear “your puppy dog eyes are effecting all of us, make a move, love.” she squeezed her shoulder before walking away, maya’s eyes still following your figure as you sat on the pitch with tooney.

“listen (y/n), are you and maya dating?”

“what!?” she paused “tooney that’s ridiculous!”

“is it though (y/n/n), I mean have you seen the way you are with each other? holding hands, cuddling, hugging, kisses on the cheek?”

“we’re best friends tooney, we were little girls together!”

“yeah I get that stupid but maybe you should start thinking about her less of a best friend and more as a girlfriend” she smiled at you as your face went blank

both of you walk into the change rooms, you darting towards your cubby in attempts to ignore maya, you needed to sort out your head

you quickly shrug on a hoodie (maya’s) as you walk to your shared car, maya waiting outside for you

“hey you” she smiled

“hey, ready to go?”

you nodded

as you got in the car, she wordlessly hands you the aux cord, buckling up and starting to drive. the drive home was pretty silent and maya was growing increasingly worried. meanwhile as you sat there, you were beginning to realise that maybe you weren’t just friends.

she had made dinner and you ate in silence, maya trying to start out conversation but all she got in response was quick and short words, quickly getting up and telling her you were going for a shower.

as you closed the door of your bedroom you look around, your wall plastered with photos of you and maya. photos of you hugging, kissing each other on the cheek, childhood photos and more. you close your eyes in frustration and all you can think about it maya. the lingering touches too long to be friendly, on the pitch you both search for each other when the other needs a celebration, your lock screen being individual pictures of each other, you weren’t friends. you love her. and she doesn’t feel the same.

you go to the living room to see her sitting there mindlessly scrolling on her phone, immediately putting it down with a smile as she sees you approaching her. though, you sit on the whole other side of the couch and she pouts. you instantly feel guilty but space is what you need right now.

“what are you doing all the way over there silly?” she smiled at you and patted the spot next to her. you hesitated but got up anyway, her arm making its way around your waist, her other arm silently lifting your legs over her own, basically sitting you in her lap. at the contact, your eyes began to water

“woah woah baby, what’s wrong?”

the pet name sparking more tears in your eyes, she grabbed your face with both of her hands and forced your eyes to hers

“may, I don’t know what to do” slightly hyperventilating while the tears began to fall

“with what, love?” she questions as her thumbs rub the apples of your cheek

“I don’t know how to tell you this but promise you won’t get mad” you look straight into her eyes

she held out her pinky to you smiling, prompting you to lift yours and link them together. she lifts up both of your hands and places a gentle kiss on it.

“may, what are we?”

she looked at you, swallowing hard, “best friends of course!” not missing the slight twinge of pain in her eyes

“may-”

she wasn’t looking at you now, the floor suddenly too interesting

“may” you repeated gently, taking her hand in yours

“I love you” she smiled at your words “I love-”

“I’m in love with you” maya could have sworn that her world stopped. the girl she had loved since she was 13 reciprocated her feelings.

maya didn’t respond, too shocked at the words.

“oh my god, wow okay you don’t feel the same um that’s fine! just forget about it okay?”

just as you were about to leave, she grabbed your hand, you falling on her lap, basically straddling her.

“if you’re pranking me right now, I won’t hesitate to beat you up, please be serious with me” she pleaded, eyes flickering between both your eyes looking for any hint of a lie. knowing you like the back of her hand, she smiled gently, eyes flickering down to your lips.

you take the first move by placing your hand on her slightly red cheek, yours equally as red. your eyes flicking between hers and her lips.

“is this okay?” she whispered, breath fanning on your mouth, you nodded

“words baby” your head immediately buried into her neck embarrassed and smiling, you move back up to face her after hearing her infectious giggle

she smiled up at you on her lap, feeling like a fever dream, trying to soak up as much of this as she could before it disappeared

“kiss me already le tissier”

she surged forward, grabbing the base of your neck and gently moving your lips with hers. the kiss was slow but burned with passion and yearning as you both put your entire souls into the kiss.

she gently prods her tongue on your bottom lip, taking you by surprise, her using this as an opportunity to move her tongue along with yours. both of you fit together perfectly, seeming almost made for each other

her free hand took hold of your hip, gently grazing the exposed skin that resided there as she continues to move her lips with yours. you let out a slight whimper into her mouth, her grinning into the kiss and ultimately pulling back to just look at you. kiss swollen lips from maya had her resting her head on your shoulder, feeling too good to be true

“you have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that” she breathes out, you smile at her, grabbing her face in both of you hands, both of hers now resting on your waist.

“why didn’t you silly, I’ve been pining over you for years”

“oh shut up you did not!”

“oh yes I did le tissier!”

“why didn’t you say anything!?”

“why didn’t you?!”

you both sat in silence for a split second and burst into laughter, moving to rest your forehead with hers

“I love you”

“I love you too bestie!”

maya playfully pinches your thigh, as she looks at you with completely dilated pupils, you looking exactly the same

“just jokes baby” you wink at her and pull her into a hug, both of you cuddling for the rest of the night, discussing all the obvious signs that you liked each other under the pale moonlight.

“hey may?”

“yes baby?”

“what are we?”

“just a couple of besties!” she grinned and kissed you once again.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

mayaletissier: bestie 🤎

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yourname: my best girl xx

↳ mayaletissier: MY best girl

ellatoone: lessi and I have waited for this

↳ alessiarusso99: all their annoying pining is finally over!

↳ mayaletissier: @/alessiarusso99 @/ellatoone, we’ll just make out in front of you instead xx

↳ yourname: no objection from me

#maya le tissier x reader #woso x reader #maya le tissier #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot

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sour--disposition · 3 years

Text

End Of The Road

harry lewis x fem!reader

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You’d met Harry whilst on a trip to Guernsey with friends from university and you’d never really gone home. You were visiting the hometown of one of your flatmates, after they’d boasted about the beautiful sea views that everyone had to see at least once.

And then you met Harry.

To you, Harry was the goofy kid you’d met in one of the hidden beach coves you’d been taken to. He was where you went on your holidays from university, wherever he was. You felt like you’d found a future in Harry, with Harry, on that beach that day.

Harry would fly you out to wherever he was as soon as you had time off from your studies, he’d pay first class train fares for you to come to London and get you the best tickets for a ferry over to Guernsey. Harry’s friends and family had made you feel welcome and loved and wanted, almost as much as Harry did.

Until you tried to surprise him.

Harry knew you were due to finish university soon, but you’d never given him an exact date of when to expect you. You’d given him excuses about moving out and seeing friends now that you had the time, all the while planning on coming down to London to surprise him as soon as you could.

You’d arranged it with Cal, who knew when you were coming. Even some of his friends knew when you were coming down, but you only told them if they promised to keep it a secret from Harry. And, so far, they’d held up their end of the bargain.

You were trudging through the middle of Kings Cross station, battling your way to the car park pick-up where you were expecting to meet your Uber driver. It felt like the day was trying to annoy you. Your train had been delayed before you’d even gotten to the platform, and then you had to wait in the rain since the waiting rooms at the station were closed, someone had taken your seat on the train so you had to argue with them over that, and now your suitcase seemed to slip into every single minute crack in the floor.

Once you slid your way into the back of the Uber, you let out a deep breath. The next person you saw would be Harry. You would see Harry and Harry would see you and all of the palaver you had been through would be worth it because, as much as the two of you tried, it had been weeks since you’d seen each other. FaceTime calls seemed to be getting less and less, too, but you chose to chalk that up to an over-critical, overactive mind.

You zoned out as you were whisked through the dark streets of London. A long final semester followed by a long day of travelling mixed with a dash of (possibly imagined) relationship doubt had started to take its toll on you. You wanted nothing more than a long, hot shower and to curl up into bed in Harry’s arms and sleep for a week or two.

Even though Cal had already told you he’d be out for the night, you sent him a text when you arrived at the apartment building, just so someone would know you’d made it into London safely.

You couldn’t help but tap your foot and fiddle with anything that was in reaching distance once you’d made it into the lift. The pent up anxiety and exhaustion mixing together was a strange feeling in of itself. You counted the floors and the lift rose, not taking your eye off of the moving counter until it drew to a slow stop, the doors sliding open in front of your face.

You walked down the hall to Harry’s flat, letting yourself in with the key he’d had cut for you as an anniversary present. You left your stuff quietly by the door, sneaking through the flat in the direction of Harry’s room.

You could hear noises coming from in his room, but you presumed he was editing a video or filming something for either his second channel or one of the Sidemen channels. You opened the door slowly, hoping not to make too much noise as you snuck into his room.

You turned around, expecting to see Harry lounging on his bed or hunched over his computer. You didn’t expect to see him with his tongue down another girl’s throat.

“What the fuck?”, the girl screeched when she moved her head and saw you standing there, eyes wide and already flooding with tears. “Who the fuck are you?”, she asked you accusingly.

Harry pulled his face out of the girl’s neck, expecting to see Cal or an intruder. “Y/N...”, he trailed off quietly. “It’s not what it looks like”, he started, “I didn’t realise - you said - you never told me-”, Harry stumbled, trying to stand up.

“It’s not what it looks like!? It looks like you’re about to fuck some other girl, Harry”, you all but shouted at him, shocking both him and the girl still awkwardly in his bed. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you, because I haven’t seen you in weeks”, you told him. By this point, the tears that were building up had begun to spill over, slowly rolling down your cheeks.

“I-”, Harry started, mouth hanging open as he tried to find the words to say. “I think you should go”, he said quietly, turning to face the girl who was trying to awkwardly straighten out her clothes without making too much of a commotion.

She nodded, standing up and gathering her things before slipping out of the room. She mumbled a soft ‘sorry’ to you as she walked past, causing you to scoff and glare at Harry.

“Are you going to try and explain, or are you going to stand there looking like a fish out of water?”, you asked him accusingly. Harry’s face darkened.

“Explain? What do you want me to tell you? You’ve barely spoken to me the past few months, and when I’ve seen you you’ve been ‘too tired’ to do anything. You don’t want to spend time with me anymore, Y/N!”, Harry shouted at you.

“Harry, you’ve known since we met that I’m at university. I was juggling a long distance relationship, a part-time job that was asking too much of me, job hunting for once I graduate and writing my final year dissertation. What did you want me to do? I can’t be in two places at once, Harry!”, you shouted, moving your arms around in anger.

“You made me feel like shit, Y/N. Like you don’t fucking love me!”, Harry hurled at you accusingly, like this was somehow your fault. “I always made time for you, whether I was at home or here or somewhere else”.

“Are you forgetting how many days I sat here in the flat on my own or with just Cal because you were at shoots? I never said a fucking word about it, because I knew I’d signed up to that when I fell in love with you. You think walking into the room and seeing you all over some other girl made me feel loved? Made me feel appreciated?”, you yelled, ignoring how cool your tears felt on your burning skin.

“This isn’t my fault. Y/N!”, Harry yelled, storming over to you. You flinched slightly, making Harry stop short. “What? You - You think I’d hurt you?”, he asked quietly, recoiling into himself.

“Well, you clearly have no fucking problem hurting me!”, you snapped, wrapping your arms tightly around your body.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N”, Harry murmured into the silence of the room.

“Really? Then why the fuck did I walk in here to see you with your tongue down someone else’s neck, Harry. That’s pretty fucking hurtful, if you ask me. And then you have the fucking gall to tell me it’s not your fault? Nobody made you bring her here, nobody made you cheat on me!”, you spat.

“It’s not been going on that long. Now that you’ve finished uni you can come down here and we can work on us again, right?”, Harry asked, awkwardly reaching out to you.

You took a step back, making sure he couldn’t reach you. Anger swirled inside of you, demanding to bubble up and lash out at Harry, and at this point to were too tired to even attempt to rein it in. “Oh yeah, sure”, you snarled. “I’ll just uproot my life and move down to London to be with a man who’d rather cheat on me than ask if everything’s okay between us”. You looked at Harry, waiting for him to say something, but he kept his mouth shut, looking around awkwardly. “Is you telling me it’s not being going on for long supposed to make me feel better? Woohoo, you’ve only been cheating on me for a month or two, not our entire relationship. No, Harry. We’re over. Done. You can’t come back from this”, you told him bluntly.

You turned around to leave his bedroom, storming down into the living room, coming face to face with Cal. “What’s going on? The neighbours called to ask if everything was okay because they heard yelling, you weren’t answering your phone so I came over”, Cal said softly, taking in the tears running down your face and neck.

Harry scoffed behind you. “And I’m the cheat, yeah?”, he snarked. Cal’s eyes widened before his face filled with fury. You put your hand on his chest.

“Can you call Freya and Josh to come pick me up? From the kitchen? Please?”, you asked, instructed him, pointing him over to the kitchen. He nodded, glowering eyes not leaving Harry until they had to.

“I wouldn’t dare cheat on you”, you snapped at Harry. “Every time you left me here to go film, I had no one to talk to but Cal. If me having the audacity to not sit in silence on my own for hours on end when I come and see my boyfriend makes me the unfaithful one here, then sue me. But last time I checked, the only person I’ve gotten into bed with in the last 18 months is you. You can’t tell me the same thing”, your voice raised as you spoke, your words all but nailing Harry to the wall.

Cal came over slowly, “They’re on their way over now”, he told you.

You marched back up to Harry’s room, collecting up everything that belonged to you in your arms. “What are you doing?”, Harry asked you from the door, voice sounding more fit for an innocent 5 year old.

“Getting my stuff”, you replied bluntly.

“Why?”.

“What about this situation makes you think I ever want to see you again, Harry? I could never trust you, ever again. You’ve ruined us. What about ‘we’re over’ doesn't make sense to you?”, you asked him incredulously, slipping past him to walk back downstairs and put your stuff into a bag.

“But - We can fix it, right?”, he asked, voice small.

“You blamed me, Harry! You said it wasn’t your fault! You think I don’t already feel bad enough? I know things have been rough and I know I’ve been distant and God, I feel like shit about it. I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m trying my best and clearly that’s not good enough for you, but don’t you dare go blaming me for that girl being in your bed. That one is all on you”, you told him sternly.

A knock on the door interrupted whatever Harry was going to try and say. Cal walked over, letting Josh and Freya into the apartment. “Y/N?”, Freya asked softly from the entryway. You turned away from Harry, walking over to Freya and into her arms.

For the first time that night, you let yourself cry. Heaving sobs were released into Freya’s chest and she held on to you, held you together. Over yours and Freya’s shoulders, Josh glared at Harry. A glare filled with anger and disappointment that made Harry shrink into himself even more.

“Come on, you need something to eat and drink and some sleep, you look shattered”, Josh told you. As Freya ushered you out of the door and to the lift, Cal handed Josh your bag and coat and pointed out your suitcase to him.

“Tell her I’ll speak to her in a bit, yeah?”, he asked Josh, who only nodded and showed himself out of the apartment, following you and Freya to the lift.

Cal took one look at Harry, his dishevelled appearance and the lost look in his eye, scoffed, and picked up his phone. “What do I do?”, Harry asked as Cal started to walk away.

“I’m not gonna start giving you advice, Bog. You’re one of my best mates but, man, you fucked up. Y/N is good, she was good for you. She would have moved heaven and earth for you if you needed her to, would have done anything you asked without a second thought. The one time in the 18 months you’ve been together she needed to be selfish, you were too pathetic to take it on the chin and you went and pulled someone else into your bed”, he told Harry.

“You like her, don’t you?”, Harry accused, no heat behind his words but the attempt was there.

“Of course I do, I have since the day I met her. But she was your girlfriend, I was just the accommodating best friend and flat mate who kept her company and bought her pizza when you abandoned her for days at a time for shoots”.

“I’ve really fucked up”, Harry whispered. Cal made a snarky noise in agreement, before turning his back and walking off to his room before he did or said something to Harry that he would regret in the long run.

At Freya and Josh’s, you’d showered and changed into sweats and a hoodie and were wrapped up in a blanket between the two of them on the couch as you all but cried into a bowl of Chinese food.

“I don’t want to lose of all you guys”, you whimpered quietly.

“You won’t, you silly goose”, Freya tutted. “You really think me, Gee and Talia would let you get away that easily. Or Josh and the other guys? No way. Sure, things are gonna change a bit, but just because...”, she trailed off, not wanting to even say Harry’s name. “Just because circumstances change, doesn’t mean we don’t love you, Y/N”, she told you, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

You had a long road ahead, there was no doubt about that. But with the friends you’d made over the last 18 months, you knew that you would never be taking that road alone. Freya was right, you couldn’t leave her, Gee and Talia now, you’d become too close. The boys were like family as well, albeit it a very dysfunctional family.

But, like all families, you’d find a way to make it work.

#harry lewis imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #w2s imagine #harry lewis x reader #wroetoshaw x reader #w2s x reader #harry lewis #wroetoshaw #w2s #sidemen #sidemen imagine #sidemen oneshot #calfreezy #josh zerker #freya nightingale #uk youtube imagine #uk youtube

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lailoken · 3 years

Text

“Elder (Sambucus nigra), also known as boor or bour tree.

Elder is one of the most enigmatic plants in British folk tradition. On one hand it is feared and associated with WITCHES and on the other it is valued for its protective qualities, as a fly repellent, and for its use in many herbal remedies.

The whole plant hath a narcotic smell; it is not well to sleep under its shade. [Withering, 1776: 186]

[In Leitrim, Waterford and the south of Ireland] the elder or 'bore' tree is believed to have been the tree from which Judas Iscariot hanged himself. The proof of which is the fact that its leaves have an 'ugly smell', and, moreover, that its fruit has since degenerated from its original size and excellent flavour, and become worthless both as to size and taste. [Anon., 1916: 425]

It was said at Beckley that if you burn elder wood you will become bewitched. You never cut it down. In Wootton they say that the elder is a witch tree. You should not mend a wattle hedge with it, as it will give the witches power. If you cut it, it will bleed. [Oxfordshire Women's In- stitute groups, 1950s]

Unlucky to burn Tramman [elder], it is the FAIRIES’ tree. [Lezayre, Isle of Man, c.1975; Manx Folklife Survey]

Normally in the Isle of Man elder is the fairies' tree which is unlucky to cut down, or burn when fallen. I was told in 1992 by a forestry worker of his pleasure that a large elder had blown over into the field adjoining his garden and thus relieved him of the need to find someone willing to remove it. [Union Mills, Isle of Man, October 1993]

Elder flowers—it is alright to pick the flowers for wine or culinary use, but the tree is a friend of witches and the wood should never come into the house. [Ashreigney, Devon, July 1983]

Elder—unlucky to bring either flowers or wood into a house: (a) because it is the witches' tree, (b) because it was believed that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from an elder tree, (c) because if you fall asleep under elder flowers the scent will poison you or you will never wake up. [Driffield, Humber- side, March 1985]

Collecting firewood from the hedges surrounding the cottage and returning happily laden, but being accused of bringing bits of elder into the house—it was considered unlucky to use these to light a fire. [Bow Street, Dyfed, October 1984]

The only unlucky plant which I have heard of is the elder tree, which the old people looked upon as unlucky. As I have heard the old people say, it was unhealthy to have an elder tree growing near the house as it was often noted the inhabitants seemed more prone to TUBERCULOSIS or 'Consumption' as it was known in Ireland in the old days. However, as TB was rampant all over the country at that time, I don't know if the belief would have any significance. My own people however would not cut down an elder bush or burn it no matter how old or rotten it was. Nor allow an elder stick in the house, and it would be an unforgivable act to strike a child or even an animal with one. [Kill Village, Co. Kildare, October 1984]

The family name dies out on the property where the elder grows in the kitchen garden. [Skibbereen, Co. Cork, January 1993]

Do you know the Rollright Stones in Oxfordshire? You can't count them; you never get the same number twice. In the next field there is a big stone called King Arthur, and there are various stones called after his Knights around. There are some elder bushes nearby. We used to go there as children on our bicycles and try to count the stones. We were told that if we picked a flower or a berry from these elderberry bushes we would be turned into stone. We used to dare each other to pick a berry or a flower, but no one ever did. [Mitcham, Surrey, May 1986]

However, in the early part of the nineteenth century:

On Midsummer Eve, when the 'eldern' tree was in blossom, it was a custom for people to come up to the King Stone and stand in a circle. Then the 'eldern' was cut, as it bled 'the King moved his head.' [Evans, 1895: 20]

Sometimes it was thought that wood, berries, or flowers could be safely taken from an elder only if the tree's permission had been sought first.

Hearing one day that a baby in a cottage close to my own was ill, I went across to see what was the matter. Baby appeared right enough, and I said so; but its mother promptly explained. 'It were all along of my maister's thick 'ed; it were in this how: t'rocker cummed off t'cradle, an' he hedn't no more gumption than to mak' a new ’un out on illerwood without axing the Old Lady's leave, an' in coorse she didn't like that, and she came and pinched t'wean that outrageous he were a'most black i' t' face; but I bashed 'un off, an putten an' esh 'un on, an' t'wean is as gallus as owt agin.' This was something quite new to me, and the clue seemed worth following up. So going home I went straight down to my backyard, where old Johnny Holmes was cutting up firewood—‘chopping kindling,' as he would have said. Watching the opportunity, I put a knot of elder-wood in the way and said, 'You are not feared of chopping that are you ?' 'Nay, he replied at once, 'I bain't feared of choppin' him, he bain't wick (alive); but if her were wick I dussn't, not without axin’ the Old Gal's leave, not if it were ever so'.. . (The words to be used are): 'Oh, them's slape enuff.' You just says, 'Owd Gal, give me of thy wood, and Oi will give some of moine, when I graws inter a tree.' [Heanley, 190I: 55]

If you chop an elder tre e or fell it, you should bow three times and say:

Old Woman, Old Woman, Give me some of your wood And when I am dead I'll give you some of mine. [Whitwick, Leicestershire, August 1983]

[Staffordshire, 1930s:] my mother said it was the thing if one wanted blossoms or fruit from an elder tree to say 'Please Mother Elder may I have .. .' [Ponsanooth, Cornwall, November 1993]

In addition to records of elder being inauspicious, there are many rec- ords of it being a beneficial, protective tree.

[In Northumberland] an old man told me that his aunt used to keep a piece of bour tree, or elder, constantly in her kist (chest) to prevent her clothes from malign influence. [Hardy, 1895: 325]

In south Wales it was deemed very dangerous to build any premises on or near the spot where an eldertree stood. In the past an elder planted before the door of a cow-shed or stable protected the cows and horses from witchcraft and sorcery. [Trevelyan, 1909: 103]

[In Scotland elder was] often planted near old crofts and cottages as protection from witches. [Webster, 1978: 342]

[In Guernsey elder] had to be planted as near as possible to the back door, the most used entrance, since it was a sacred tree and a good protection against witchcraft. [McClintock, 1987: 33]

[In Ireland] it is considered lucky to have an elderberry bush grow near your house, especially if it is "self-set'. [Bracknell, Berkshire, August 1984]

Mother used elder leaves to make a pattern on the floor-bricks. Painting around them with red paint. Making the cross with elder leaves. This was an old custom, going back to her grandmother's time, so the custom had to be continued despite the time-consuming nature of the work. [Bow Street, Dyfed, March 1984]

Elder: this was called Boortree... The leaves were boiled and the water used to dose pigs. For this purpose, and because it was supposed to be a protection against LIGHTNING, there was a tree of it at every house. It can still be seen growing in places where there are no houses now, but where houses were years ago. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

Family folklore passed on to me includes . . . one should plant a ROWAN and elder tree and never cut them down, in order to keep witches away. [Parkstone, Dorset, June 1991]

I can remember as a child elder growing around the wooden bottom-of-the-garden 'lavvy' at my uncle's farm near Brentwood, Essex, and many other similar loos with elder adjacent. I was told that the elder would live 'almost for ever', as if one root died off another would spring from a fallen branch or twig. They were treated with 'respect' as they kept away bad magic—no one used the word 'witches'—but the inference was there. [Yafforth, North Yorkshire, January 1990]

More usually elder trees were planted around toilets and other build ings to deter FLIES.

Elder bushes are invariably to be seen outside the dairy windows on the north side of old-fashioned farmhouses in the Midlands. This was done because elder-leaves are supposed to be very objectionable to flies, wasps and other insects, the tree thus provided both shade and protection. For the same reason a switch of elder with leaves on is used when taking or driving a swarm of bees. [N &Q, 11 ser. 12: 489, 1915]

When inspecting a slaughter house [in Cornwall] a summer or two ago, I commented on the absence of flies, and was told that this was due to a large elder bush growing some feet away and that branches of elder in any building would keep flies away. [Peter, 1915: 123]

An elderberry tree was always grown near the house—I think it was to keep flies away. [Didcot, Oxfordshire, February 1991]

According to some friends of mine elderberry bushes were planted by water butts and outside privies so that the smell would keep the flies away. [Horseheath, Cambridgeshire, April 1991]

As a youth my late father worked on the land...Often handling horses it was common practice to tie bunches of elder leaves to the harness to ward off flies. [St Osyth, Essex, February 1989]

My wife, who comes from Northumberland, tells me that her mother used to make up a concoction with elder flower when she was a child. All the family washed their faces in it to keep virulent Northumbrian midges at bay. She remembers it smelling not too pleasant, and tended to keep other children away as well, so she would take the first opportunity to wash it off! [Hexham, Northumberland, June 1988]

About twelve years ago in Girton, Cambridge, a small swarm of bees (apparently known as a 'cast') settled on a plum tree in our garden, about six feet up. A neighbour, Mr C. G. Puck (now 84 years old), a retired shepherd and lifelong beekeeper, came to collect the bees. He removed the queen bee from the swarm and placed her under a small open wooden box inverted on the ground under the tree. He then asked for a sprig of elder and laid this about nine inches above the swarm, saying that the smell of it was disliked by bees, and by the early evening all the bees had moved into the box . . . He had learned of the use of elder in this fashion from his beekeeper father, in his native village of Thriplow, south Cambridgeshire. [Girton, Cambridge, May 1988]

On the Isle of Man:

Each old cottage has a 'trammon', or elderberry tree, outside the door. This is used by the 'Phynodderree' to swing in. He is a kind of faun who can bring much luck, and even helps materially in outside work. [Daily News, 27 January 1926]

[Fairies] liked most of all to swing and play in the elder trees, and these were always thought of as fairy trees in the Isle of Man. There wasn't a house or farm that didn't have its 'tramman' tree planted by the door or in the garden 'for the fairies'. Many of them are still to be seen; the single tree will soon have grown into a thicket, hiding the old ruined house, but a sure sign that a house once stood there . . . When the wind was blowing the branches, it was then that the fairies were believed to be riding the tramman trees, but it was said that they would desert a house or a farm where the trees had been cut down. This must have happened only very rarely: no-one would cut a branch of the tramman, let alone the tree itself, but if it was done the fairies grieved. [Killip, 1975: 35]

Regardless of whether elder is considered to be malevolent or protec- tive, most of the folk beliefs associated with the tree appear to be con- cerned with its protection and preservation. Two quotations from herbalists writing in the 1940s demonstrate the value of the elder tree.

[According to my [g*psy] friend] the healingest tree that on earth do grow be the elder, them sez, and take it all round I should say 'twas. [Quelch, 1941: 78]

[Elder has] the unusual distinction of being useful in every part. [Ransom, 1949: 55]

Thus it is possible that the various folk beliefs associated with elder were due, at least in part, to efforts to protect a valuable resource.

The period when elder flowered was sometimes considered to be a time when the weather was poor. In the Basingstoke area of Hampshire this time was known as the elderbloom winter [Maida Hill, Lon- don, December 1982], while in Cheshire:

Weather prophets say that if the weather breaks while the elder-flowers are coming out, it will be soaking wet (in Cheshire parlance, drabbly) until they fade. [Hole, 1937: 49]

Francis Bacon (1561–1626) recorded: 'They say' WARTS can be removed by rubbing them 'with a Green Elder Sticke and then bury- ing the Sticke to rot in Mucke' [Bacon, 1631: 258]. Similarly:

A 15-year-old girl, writing in 1954, says that her grandfather told her to pick a small twig of elderberry, touch her warts with it, chant the words, “Wart, wart, on my knee, Please go, one, two, three” and put it 'down the toilet'. [Opie, 1959: 315]

Elder is, perhaps, the wild plant most widely used in folk medicine.

Queen of all Forest [of Dean] remedies was 'ellum blow tea'...The flowers were gathered in the spring and hung up to dry in closed paper bags ... in the kitchen ... You dared not sneeze in the winter or down came the bag, a good handful was put in a jug, covered with boiling water, covered with a tea towel, and left to infuse. One had to force this evil-smelling brew down one's throat willy-nilly. I loathed it, and to this day can recall that smell of cats which emanated from it. Poultices of the mixture were used for SPRAINS, aches, etc., in joints, also for boils and 'gathered' fingers—whitlows and so on. It seemed to be a universal panacea; the only use it didn't have was for constipation . . . Elder berries were favoured too; they were boiled up with sugar, the resulting syrup strained, bottled, and used in winter for coughs and colds . . .There is not a Forester alive over the age of 70 who does not know ellum blow tea. [Cinder- ford, Gloucestershire, November 1993]

Elder berries when fried with mutton fat are used for BOILS and ULCERS. [IFCSS MSS 414: 43, Co. Clare]

Elder root when boiled and the water drank supposed to cure RHEUMAT- ISM. [IFCSS MSS 700: 35, Co. Meath]

An infusion of elder flowers in boiling water will alleviate PILES. [Horsted Keynes, West Sussex, February 1991]

A green ointment could be made from the leaves, based on mutton fat, and the creamy white flowers made Elderflower Water for the complexion. The flowers, dried in the sun and stored in a paper bag make a good remedy to break a hard COUGH and bring up phlegm. I always pick and dry some when they are in bloom, put the full of your fingers (one hand) in a mug, pour boiling water over and let it infuse for ten minutes. A little milk or fruit juice can be added. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

For flus and FEVERS

40 oz whiskey bottle. Pick, clean, weigh, one pound ripe elder berries. Delete the strings (most strings anyway) using a fork, and put berries into empty bottle. Add 4 lb sugar. Top up with a bottle (or most of a bottle) of whiskey. Seal well. Store for 3 months and strain. Use strongest spirit. Dose—Strong glass of this 'Elderfire'—add hot water (as hot as possible) and drink. Take 2 or 3 spoons of honey with drink. Repeat each night (or more frequently)–usually two nights is sufficient to clear the flu/fever results guaranteed. [Killarney, Co. Kerry, September 1991]

[My mother, who was 94 when she died in 1987] used to collect elder-flower in the spring, and dried it. In the winter if we had colds or flu, the elderflower was put in a jug covered with boiling water and put on the hob to stew. At night we were given this (strained) with sugar and a few drops of peppermint oil added. We were given a teacup full of this at night, and in the morning we had to drink half a cupful of this cold mixture. It was supposed to sweat out the fever. She used to tell me how she pulled me through PNEUMONIA by poulticing with hot flannel and sips of elderflower tea, day and night. [Hill, Worcestershire, October 1991]

When my three children were small and we had wintery weather (and it can be very cold up here at the foot of the Cairngorms), I made elder-flower wine, and when it was time for them coming from school I had three cups, bowl of sugar, bottle of elderflower wine and the kettle boiling, and I gave them a tody; they never had colds or flu. [Boat-of-Garten, Inverness-shire, November 1991]

Elder flowers and berries are widely collected by makers of homemade wines. The flowers can also be used in cooking [Ó’Ceirin, 1980: o1), and the fruits have been recommended as a substitute for currants [Ransom, 1949: 55]. Elder leaves have been used as a TOBACCO substitute.

Myself, my brother and a friend always smoked elder leaves when money was not available for tailor-made cigarettes. We spent much time in the woodland of Thetford Chase, where on our regular walks we would break down, but not completely snap off, small sprigs of the elder. We found that if we severed the supply of sap completely the leaves on the sprig would dry out resulting in a hot strong smoke. We found that if the leaves remained just slightly damp they were a quite pleasant smoke. It was obviously trial and error, sometimes they remained too wet to burn properly. We would stuff the leaves very lightly into the stems of various umbellifers...We actually prefered these cigarettes to the tailor-made, but they were not available during winter. [West Stow, Suffolk, November 1992]

Elder wood is characterized by its pith, which can be easily removed.

[On Colonsay] boys aspiring to be pipers made chanters of the young branches [of elder], which are full of pith and easily bored. [McNeill, 1910: 130].

Haw-blowers are made by scooping the pith out of an elder branch. Haws are blown through these. [IFCSS MSS 700: 338, Co. Meath]

The people of the parish were able to make toy guns. They got an elder stick about one and a half feet long and scraped out the inside. Then they got a stick about the same length and made it fit into the hole and then the gun was made. [IFCSS MSS 867: 132, Co. Kilkenny]

At the the beginning of the century children in parts of Devon used to make pop-guns' out of elder: they would force a hole through the pith, and then fashion a ram-rod out of HAZEL WOOD. Chewed paper would be rammed down the hollowed elder sticks, and pressed out with considerable force. Great sport ensued. [Lafonte, 1984: 35]

There was another use for the Boor tree in olden times. A suitable length was cut and seasoned, then the white pith in the centre was scraped out, lead was then melted and poured in. When set, this made a good weapon for protection on a journey or out walking at night...My aunt who was born in 1894 remembered one man who had such a stick. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

[In Horsefield, Cambridgeshire] for winter feeding one beekeeper used to make little troughs out of elder wood; he cut pieces about the thickness of a finger and five or six inches long, tapered off one end and removed the pith, and used them for replenishing the bees' honey by inserting this end in the exit hole. [Parsons MSS, 1952]”

—

Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

#elder #elder tree #elderberry #elder mother #plant lore #herbcraft #folklore #Roy Vickery #Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

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downtonabbeyrevisited · 3 years

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Season Two Episode Two

Following a typically chaotic opener, Episode Two of Season Two strikes a far more sombre tone. The arrival of Henry Lang as Robert’s valet brings the first of this episode’s three plot points that address the impact of WW1 on the mental health of its soldiers. There is nothing funny to say about either shell-shock or suicidal ideation both of which are vast, complex issues that, for my money, Downton Abbey isn’t the vehicle explore in (because they require more time and depth than the pace of the plot in Season Two affords) and it certainly isn’t my place to make light of them in this rather irreverent corner of the internet. So I’m going to have a go at treading a fine line here. Forgive me if I stumble.

Lang is clearly in the grips of something awful and yet in an attempt to avoid the indignity of having maids in the dining room, he is bumped up to footman duty. He struggles throughout, culminating in him depositing his cargo on Edith’s dress. Mrs O’Brein has firmly taken Lang under her wing, recognising that he is struggling and offers him assurance and comfort that she has never gifted to Thomas.

Across the Village, Lieutenant Edward Courtenay is in the hospital having been blinded by gas. The use of gas (both chlorine and mustard) had a devastating impact on soldiers in WW1 but was also the root of the development of Zyklon B. Frtiz Haber, a German Jewish chemist, enabled chlorine gas to be used a weapon in WW1 and his research was later developed into the Zyklon process which was used by the Nazis to murder millions, including his own family. This is only one of a dizzying number of appalling ironies to be found in the World Wars but as I said last episode, I’m not a military historian so I’m going to leave it there. Edward had plans to return to the country after his graduation from Oxford to pursue the simple life (although one gets the feeling that his idea of the pursuit of a simple life will still be one that is very well upholstered). Thomas has taken it upon himself to read Edward’s letters to him and together with Sybil is helping him to adjust to living life with a different set of parameters. But growing pressure on the hospital’s limited capacity means that he is to be transferred elsewhere. All three voice their dissent at varying volumes to Major Clarkson who falls back on the very real backlog of wounded men. After Edward has died, Major Clarkson, Isobel and Sybil talk about a renewed need for the Abbey to become a convalescent home, an idea that has been bubbling under the surface for a while now. Meanwhile, Thomas has been left on his own to process both Edward’s death and the implications of witnessing a lack of support given by his own physician to those with depression.

The usually reliably jovial Mrs Patmore also has a more somber episode with her pursuit for the truth about the death of her nephew Archie. Robert finds that he has been shot for cowardice. Not only does this mean that her family is in mourning but they will now have to navigate the stigma and undue shame that came with having a relative die in this way. So entrenched in British life was the derision levelled at those who were shot for cowardice or desertion that it was only in 2006 that pardons were offered by Britain for 309 of those that were executed by firing squad during WW1. I know I said I’d leave it there with the military history, but that felt like an important bit of context.

We are now in 1917 and Matthew is still in the same trench that he was in 1916 (a detail I hadn’t actually noticed until I got the screen cap for this) so it looks like his strategy of downing tools mid-fight and continuously popping back to Blighty for important plot developments isn’t really paying dividends. Perhaps the addition of William to the ranks will help him? William certainly seems to think so and if the speed at which he moves through the various stages of his ‘relationship’ with Daisy is any indication of his tactical prowess, the British Front will not only be well within Germany’s borders but will be breathing down Russia’s neck in a fortnight. In any other episode, this would certainly get the award for oddest relationship dynamic but Sir Richard Carlisle exists.

Sir Richard makes his debut at Downton, having been introduced in name only in the previous episode. He and Mary met at Cliveden which is a regular haunt of mine, giving me hope that one day I too will from a strategic alliance with a newspaper magnate. He may know how to talk his way around a boardroom but he is lacking in the sartorial department. Whilst Sir Richard manages to avoid catching fire in his tweed, Lavinia is not free from the heat as he threatens her with his connection to her uncle. He may not know much about navigating the niceties of Downton, but at least he has cottoned on to the fact that any major disagreement should occur under a specific tree. Whilst Mary’s signature move is weeping into her gloves, Sir Richard’s is grabbing women by the forearm. A female friend of mine told me that one of her favourite things about the pandemic and the compulsion to keep 2m away from anyone (and not just emotionally) is that she has not been ’steered’ by a male hand on her lower back since 2019. It turns out that she can enter and exit rooms just fine on her own and I get the impression that Lavinia could get the gist of Sir Richard’s rage without the vice like grip of a man probably about twice her age.

Twinned with the ’tree of emotional conflict’, the ‘platform of romantic uncertainty’ provides the backdrop for Sir Richard’s proposal of marriage to Mary which is a declaration that really feels like it should come with a series of well-formatted charts. Mary’s heart, however, is still very much with Cousin Matthew. After being counselled by Carson in a type of conversation I cannot imagine her ever having with her father, she is on the verge of coming clean with Matthew. But in the second round of Lavinia vs. Mary, Lavinia declares that she ‘could not go on living’ without Matthew and Mary winds her neck in.

Also having a romantic entanglement this episode is Edith. Drake, previously of dropsy fame, has lost his farm hands and Edith turns up to offer her help in a wildly unsuitable trouser and heeled boot combo. But she soon gets down to it by pulling up a tree stump and flirting in a barn whilst a rather lovely border collie looks on (I’m currently trying to talk myself out of getting a border collie and this incident has done nothing to help things). After showing Drake that she can drink from a bottle like literally every single other human on the planet, the two share a kiss and some highly awkward dialogue that only slightly resembles ‘Carry on Downton’.

Whilst Edith is more than happy to crack on in a barn, Mr Molesley is much more backwards about coming forwards. Apparently having predicted the creation of ‘The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society’, he figures that a book is the perfect kindling for romance when you exist in a glossy depiction of the past. Sadly neither Elizabeth nor her German garden can lure Anna from Bates who is fast shaping up to be schrodinger’s boyfriend. Anna proceeds to make some odd analogy where she compares Mr Bates to her moon-based child, revealing a rather unhealthy amount of codependency in that particular relationship.

Romantic declaration of the moment

Again, it feels like anyone but Sybil and Branson should get this but I am an agent of chaos and here we are. Branson defends Sybil’s will to work and has ample opportunity to see her shine in her chosen field. The admission that she will not be returning to her old life is a little chink of light that Branson basks in.

Expressive eyebrow of the week

I nominate Carson’s entire face when he realises that he has taken on too much and goes an impressive shade of red. As Carson frets about spoons, sauce, and something I can’t quite fathom, he starts to resemble a man who is re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. Carson’s battle to get a cork out of a bottle and knocking into chairs is a warm up to his rather dramatic collapse which is accompanied by a pretty disturbing groan. Sybil springs to action and he is soon efficiently ensconced in his own quarters.

Wait, what?

“I got a lot done on the train” Clearly Richard was on a train that was unencumbered with the wifi issues that plague the Pendolino.

“It takes a good deal more than that to shock me.” Mary’s shock-o-meter is a pretty odd instrument. It is unresponsive to corpses of diplomats but goes into absolute meltdown at the notion that she might have to live in a cottage.

“Let's hope my reputation will survive it.” I’ve not checked (and I categorically never will) but I would put money on the fact that someone has created a rarepair out of this.

“How can Matthew have chosen that little blonde piece?” Is Lavinia blonde? Women’s hair is not really my forte but I would have thought she was more akin to Tim Minchin than 1998 Justin Timberlake.

“I believe in this war. I believe in what we are fighting for.” William seems to have a better grip on what all of this is about than I ever did in high school history. The ‘A’ that eluded me is heading his way.

“I thought he might've died for love of you.” How I love snipey Thomas. It’s good to have him back. To borrow a quote from Bottas (another man who is currently living a life in which his destiny is his own demise) ‘traditions’.

“Fold it in, don’t slap it” The more season two goes on, the more I think that Moira is just an amalgamation of some choice elements of Julian’s kingdom.

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tinawritesstuff · 3 years

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A Not So Friendly Match (Henry Cavill x Reader)

Pairing: Henry Cavill/ First Person Reader

Wordcount: 4.6k

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, angst if you squint a little.

A/N: Hello! This was based on an idea my good friend @1ookatthestars00 gave me. I don’t know a thing about rugby, the stuff I wrote was purely researched on the internet, and I’m sorry if any of those facts is wrong. I hope you all enjoy, especially you my love!

Taglist: @cavill-sass

@tillthelandslide

@1ookatthestars00

@al-wiisa

Being in a relationship with a rugby fan is never easy, considering they’re always on edge when their team plays some important game. Well, imagine what could possibly happen in a relationship with not only one, but two rugby fans, AND from different teams.

Henry and (Y/N) were both a really particular couple. Both of them stubborn, hardworking and passionate about the different activities and stuff they enjoyed doing and watching. One of those being rugby, they supported their teams separately and in their own ways: Henry would always have both a bottle of Guinness beer and his Jersey beanie on top of his head, and his girlfriend would always have a Guernsey shirt and a bottle of beer next to a bowl of chips.

What happens when both their favorite teams were set to play against each other in the annual rugby union charity match and Henry gets invited to play? We’re about to find out.

Today couldn’t have gone any worse than it went. Working for the English National Health Service, and considering this Covid nightmare, is not easy at all. Specially when you have to work to help people and on top of that, be extra careful to not get infected. All I wanted to do was to go back home and enjoy some time with my man.

When I get inside my home, I leave my shoes and coat inside the little closet by the door after sanitizing them and myself with a lot of alcohol gel and frown when I don’t see Henry nor Kal coming to welcome me back, which is weird considering that they both came back from Scotland yesterday and, usually when that’s the case, they run to fill me with loads of love. I start walking to the living room, going though the foyer whistling for Kal, but they never come. When I reach said room, I find both my boys laying in the couch with the tv on in front of them and, when they notice my presence, the two bears run my way. Henry engulfs me in his arms and picks me up, making me wrap my legs around his strong torso; Kal? Oh, that bear. He just jumps between Hen and I, positioning himself on my lap, thankfully my human beast is strong enough to hold us both up in his arms.

We laugh together and suddenly I feel a complete sense of peace I missed all day. He’s here, with me, he’s home. He feels like home. Hen puts us down, keeping his hands on my waistñ for good measure, and we finally share a wonderful, earthshaking kiss (well, not literally, but you know what I mean).

- How was your day, dove?

- Ugh. – it’s all I need to say and he chuckles. – Honestly, I love my job but sometimes it can be a lot.

- I understand. Want to talk about it?

- Not really, honey. – I pout a little and he pecks my lower lip, then goes for a deeper kiss, which has me sighing against his mouth.

When we break apart, I pay attention to his attire and I see that he’s wearing his Jersey shirt, which can possibly mean one thing.

- Is Jersey supposed to play today? I didn’t hear anything about it.

- Nope, love. I’m wearing this shirt because I had to make a post on Instagram, thanking Jersey for inviting me to play a match for the charity event they’re running next Saturday.

- Oh, that’s great news, bubs! – I exclaim excitedly and he nods his head with a big smile. – I won’t cheer for the team, but I’ll obviously be there to support you and help you take care of your wounds.

- Oh baby, nothing would make me happier. You gonna be wearing my Jersey shirt? – he smiles cheekily and I let out an unlady-like snort.

- Yeah, right. – I roll my eyes, but smile anyway. – I love you, bear, but not even my love for you will change the fact that Jersey, to me, is the worst fucking team since the appearance of rugby in this world.

- You did not just say that. – he pretended to be deeply hurt and I just let out a giggle when he tickles my ribs. – You’re a little shit.

I only laugh in his face and retire myself from his arms, to go shower and change my work attire. He follows after me and I just know what he’s planning to do.

Once inside the room, I start removing my uniform jacket, then my pants, leaving myself in my underwear in front of the touch starved man that’s standing by the door. I look at him, batting my lashes innocently, and then shake my head.

- Don’t even think about it, handsome. I have this horrible hospital smell, and I don’t want to do anything else but shower it off.

- Mhm, I was actually thinking, - he paused and moved his hand through his strong jaw, as if he was actually thinking. – I haven’t showered today, and I went to the gym this afternoon with Kal after our cardio session, it would be a shame to waste such quantity of water if we shower separately, don’t you think?

- Oh, how thoughtful of you, Cavill. – I roll my eyes at him but a little smirk takes place on my face.

I grab a towel from the drawer and head to the attached bathroom, unclasping my bra and removing it from my body as I walk. I turn my head to Henry’s direction and smile alluringly at him.

- You coming or not, handsome? – and then disappear inside through the door.

Saturday comes way quicker than I expected it and thankfully I wasn’t set to cover any shift that day, which gave me the opportunity to be with Henry and go to the match with him. We had traveled to Jersey the day before to get settle in the island peacefully and with no rush, and this same morning, we woke up together to go for a run with Kal, then came back and showered (separately this time, because he had things to fix and settle before leaving) and finally had breakfast before he took off, leaving me with Kal.

Which brings us here, to the afternoon, a couple of hours before the match. I usually know what to wear to events like this, considering that it’s not something really fancy (or is it?), but today seems not to be the case, because I can’t decide if I should go elegant but casual, or completely casual.

I decide to text Henry to ask him, but in the meantime, I decide to pamper myself a bit and do my skincare routine, because the last time I did it was waaaaaaay long ago. After I’m done, I continue with my hair and finally, I paint my nails. When I check my phone again, I see that Henry has replied and the text says:

Wear anything you want to, just not that dirty Guernsey shirt xX.

I smile and shake my head, because I can’t understand how my love for this man only grows more and more each day, even though we have so different preferences. Guess that’s what makes our relationship so interesting and versatile.

I decide to go with casual, but pretty. I grab a pair of plaid pants, cream sweater and my pointy shoes. I pick a light brown coat and a black beanie, but I leave them on the bed to put them on later.

After what feels like years, I see Hen’s car stopping by the front gate and I put on my coat and beanie to get out of the house. I lock the door, run to his car and I can hear him wolf whistling my way, which makes me laugh out loud. I open the passenger door seat to get into the car, greet him with a big smile and a long kiss, which he reciprocates with big passion.

When I’m done, I decide to wait for Henry in the foyer, checking social media and uploading a picture of me smiling with my sunglasses on, on my Instagram Story with the caption “Ready to support my bear! (Not Jersey though 🤮🤮!)” and tag Henry on it.

The drive to St. Peter (currently known as Stade Santander International) is a relatively long one, considering that the house we were renting was on the opposite side of the island, and when we arrive, I can see a bunch of people with cameras and flashes waiting for Henry to make his big appearance. He parks the car, stops it and then we get off to walk hand in hand to the big entrance of the stadium. When we get inside, I can see the big pitch in front of me and I can’t help but feel giddy about the idea of watching a match from up close, after the longest time of my life. Henry talks with some people, introduces me to some other and then they finally lead him to the changing rooms and showers for him to get ready for the match.

I pace around, just looking at the walls’ decorations, the medals, trophies, everything. I take pictures, but only to take the piss on Henry and tell him that Guernsey has waaaaay more prizes than Jersey does (which isn’t true, but I love to rile him up). After that, I decide to check social media while I continue walking around, until I reach the stairs that lead me to the chairs. Once I’m situated, I sit on one of the chairs, that it’s actually in front of the pitch so it gives me a really good view of the arena, and keep scrolling through my Instagram page until I hear someone clearing their throat. I look up and I can see a smiling Henry staring at me expectantly, which causes me to widen my eyes and bite my lip, because he looks just so good right now, that I don’t know if we’ll make it to the house before I make him rip my clothes off.

- Sooo, what do you think? – he looks down at himself and then back at me. - Do I look like a rugby player?

- Mmmmhm, don’t know. Turn around. – I order and he giggle but does as I say. – Mmm, yeah, that’s what I thought.

I look down at his shorts- covered butt, and it looks exactly the way I was expecting. I slap one his cheeks playfully and he let’s out a surprise yelp, turning his body back around to face me again. Hen leans down and kisses me slowly, tasting the waters first, but I grab his face and pull him as close to me as the bar lets us, which earns me a moan from him.

When we break the kiss, I peck his forehead and look at him right in the eyes. It’s a promise, a little ritual we have and perform to assure the other that we’re present, that we’re proud of our accomplishments, that we love each other no matter what. He smiles widely at me and moves his head to the side to kiss my palm, and I peck both his cheekbones before pecking his lips one last time.

- You’ll be amazing. No matter what, I’ll be here supporting your sexy ass till the end. I love you, bear.

- You’re so good to me, my love. So, so, so good you have no idea. – he goes back to kiss me and then breaks away. – I love you; I need to run and warm up. Don’t go anywhere, okay?

- Okay.

He takes off, leaving me alone with the feeling of his lips still lingering on my mouth, and I take a seat to enjoy the game that’s set to start in a few minutes.

The reporter starts making the presentation of the local team, explaining what positions the players will be playing in, and when he goes to the visiting team, my eyes widen and I start laughing uncontrollably. It’s fucking Guernsey.

Now my heart is definitely torn. What am I supposed to do? Cheer for my beloved boyfriend or my favorite team? Ugh, this is a decision I never thought I’d have to make.

The game starts, Jersey takes the lead but one of the Guernsey guys tackles him away from the score area, which causes me to cheer and jump excitedly. Henry is sitting on the backups bench, so I don’t have to cheer for him just yet; meaning I can actually support my team.

The first half ends quicker than I would’ve expected, with Guernsey on top by five points, which has me giddy. It’s when the second half starts that the coach decides to bring my bear in, and I clap excitedly while watching him running into the pitch. The referi indicates the continuation of the game with his whistle, and I can see Henry grabbing the ball and running away from the big men that go after him. I take a deep breath, trying to convince myself that he’s done this before, he know what he’s doing and everything’s going to be fine.

I have mixed feelings about this, going from super scared to super horny at the same time. One of the many things that made me fall for this man were his looks and the macho demeanor, so seeing him dodging punches (but also receiving a few), tackling other guys and running away like a wild animal just wakes up a deep desire inside me.

Oh, that man is going to have it good tonight. I don’t even care how tired he is, he’ll have to fix the mess he created on my panties.

The game finally ends with the victory of Guernsey over Jersey, and I just know I have to mock Henry about it. The whole team goes inside, to the showers I suppose, and I decide to go after them and wait for my man outside the changing room door. When I reach my destiny, I check for good measure that Henry is, in fact, in there; which he is. I look to the sides, noticing the he’s alone, I walk to him and hug his neck from behind startling him a bit.

- Well, hello mister. – I whisper in his ear and he kisses one of my arms.

- Hello, my dear love. – he replies in a tired voice.

- I know for a fact that you’re tired, but I have to admit that watching you there, playing like a bull, got me quite excited…- I admit in a sultry voice, kissing the spot behind his ear. – I’m so wet for you baby, specially since Guernsey beat your ass as well. – I giggle and take a step back because I know what’s coming for me.

- Oh honey, you better stop if you know what’s good for you. I’m not in the mood to be mocked. – he warns me turning his body to face me.

He arches one of his eyebrows while looking at me starting to undo the buttons of my coat.

- Oh Henry, but I know exactly what’s good for me.

I continue undressing myself until I’m standing in from of him in just my underwear, but he ignores me and keeps removing his sweaty attire to get into the shower.

- C'mon, baby. Are you going to give up on me and lose the opportunity to fuck my brains out like you lost the game?

Fuck, I know that my ass is going to burn like boiling water tomorrow, but I’m so wet for him that I don’t care about the consequences right now.

- This is the last warning, baby girl. Stop right at this moment or your ass in gonna look like sweet, red peach tomorrow.

- Ugh, maybe I should go ask one of the Guernsey guys to help me with this, after all they can score anything they want. But you can’t, can you babe?

Apparently, that’s the last thing I need to say, because he gets up from his place abruptly and walks towards me in a speed I’d never seen before. He grabs me by both my biceps and looks at me dead in the eyes, making me gulp and look at him as innocently as I can, but I know he doesn’t buy my façade.

- Do you want to repeat that, my love? – he asks in a threating tone

- No, daddy.

- That’s what I thought. – he removes his briefs in a quick movement without letting go of me and throws them away – Not so smart now, are you? Is this what you wanted? Huh? You wanted me to punish you like the slut you are?

- Oh god, Henry. – I let out in a moan and close my eyes, but he grabs my face in one of his big hands and makes me open them again.

- What did you call me, little one? Didn’t quite catch that.

- Daddy, I meant daddy. – I cry out when the hand that isn’t holding my face goes down my body till he reaches my underwear.

- You want to repeat what you said, my darling?

- No daddy, I’m sorry.

- It wasn’t a request, bunny. It was an order.

I gulp audibly and shake my head, because suddenly I feel a level of embarrassment and I don’t want to say it. He pulls my hair, not enough to make it hurt, but enough to make me whimper and close and open my eyes to make the tears go away.

- Now, let’s try again. What did you say earlier?

- Get dressed, we’re going home.

- That I should go to one of the Guernsey guys and ask him to fuck me because any of them would be better than you. – I close my eyes and take a deep breath, because now I’m regretting not thinking before saying it – But I didn’t mean it, daddy. No one fucks me better than you, I promise.

- I’m not sure now, (Y/N).

Fuck, he rarely calls me by my name. Specially not when we’re about to fuck. He’s mad, but mostly he’s hurt.

On the way to the place we’re staying at, none of us says anything. Him because he’s mad, and me because I don’t dare to utter a word out. Should I apologize? I know he’s hurt, because we don’t joke about other people “replacing” us, especially in cases like this.

The only sound is the radio, but even that won’t stop me from thinking that I fucked up. Badly. When we reach the house, he parks and stops the engine, but doesn’t get out of the car.

- Hen… - I try in a soft voice.

- Don’t. Don’t say a word. I want you to get out of this car, go to the room and wait for me on the bed in your underwear.

I let out a quiet whimper, but do as he says. When I get inside the house, Kal comes to greet me and I pet him, going to the room right after. I reach the room and then do as Henry told me to.

I can hear him playing with Kal and greeting him, and he stays with the bear for a good couple of minutes. In the meantime, I’m still laying on the bed, wearing just underwear.

He comes into the room and stays by the door, watching me quietly. And just when I think he’s going to make a move on me, he just walks past the bed and doesn’t pay me any mind. I let out a huff and turn to lay on my belly, leaving my ass exposed for him to see.

He takes his good time in the bathroom, showering I suppose, and when he comes out he’s wearing nothing but a white towel around his slim waist, leaving his hairy chest on display. I bite my lip and extend my arms to signal him that I want him with me in the bed. He sighs and walks slowly towards my direction.

- You know you overstepped the line today, right? – he asks me once he’s sitting next to me and all I can do is nod – You hurt my feelings, little one.

- I know that, Hen, and I’m so, so, sorry. I swear I regretted saying it the moment the words left my mouth – I pout and hesitate to go closer to him, because I don’t know if he wants me to touch him.

Henry only nods and opens his arms, which makes me move closer to him and hug his strong body, leaving my head on his lap.

- I don’t want any other man but you, my love. I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have, because you’re more than enough for me. – I whisper against the skin of his stomach, and then leave a little peck in there.

- I know that, my dove. It’s okay.

- It’s not though. You’ve spent every single day since the moment we became an item making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. You’ve made me feel enough and loved and cared for, and I promised to myself that I was going to try my hardest and making you feel the same security you make me feel. Today I failed you, and I’m sorry, even if it was a joke.

He says nothing, only grabs my jaw with one hand and leans down to kiss me. I put my hand around his wrist, and I feel him deepen the kiss, which makes sigh against his mouth. We break apart and I get on my knees in front of him, looking into his eyes, and grabbing his face to kiss him one more time, more fiercely this time.

- Let me make it up to you, my love. Let me prove to you that you’re the only man I need. – I whisper against his mouth and he grabs my body and turns us around, so he’s on top of me.

- You can do that later, honey. Now I’m going to show you that I’m the only man you’ll ever need.

With that, he just devours my mouth with his, making me whimper and moan, while roaming his hands up and down the sides of my body. Then, he poses his fingers on the waistband of my panties and pulls them down, kissing my thighs and then my calves as he removes the undergarment from my body. After that, he goes touching all the way up, going from legs to my back, until he reaches my bra and unclasps it, taking it off next.

Henry looks at me in the eyes and then attaches his mouth to one of my nipples, making me gasp and grab his curls to pull him closer to me. Then he goes for my other nub, which is the most sensitive one of the two pair, and it makes me let out a long moan. Hen spends some good time on it, to finally let it go of his mouth with a pop.

- I want to make you feel so good, my love. Even though I don’t think you deserve it.

- Oh, Henry. – I whimper when he starts to travel south, leaving a trail of kisses on my belly and then my mound.

He then attaches his mouth to my labia, lapping and kissing around my lips and entrance, paying no mind to my little bundle of nerves, which causes me to let out a groan of protest. He’s got me so wet since the match started, this isn’t fucking fair.

He starts to make out with my lower lips, putting his tongue in the way and using it to run it around all the lower area of my womanhood, slowly, but with fervour. Then, he goes to my inner thigh and leaves kisses in one and the other. Then, he goes back to my entrance and starts penetrating me with his tongue, while looking at me in the eyes. He’s going hurtfully slow, and it causes me to arch my back in desperation, because I need him to just fuck me senseless.

Of course, I enjoy slow, passionate sessions of love making, but right now all I want is for him to become a wild stud and fuck my brains out. He inserts two of his fingers inside of me, kissing my mound while doing so. Finally, I can feel him moving the two impostors that rest inside my pussy, building a good pace, starting slowly and then increasing the speed. I pull his curls to bring his head closer to me, and he moans against me, making me shudder.

He finally, finally, gets his tongue on my clit, lapping around it and flicking it to bring me closer to my well needed release. After a couple of minutes, I can feel my walls clenching around his fingers, and so does he.

- C'mon baby, give it to me. I can feel your sweet, tight cunt squeezing my fingers. Cum for me. – he encourages me and that’s all the motivation I needed to let it go.

I let out a loud and long moan, holding his head against my sensitive wetness with one hand and one of the soft pillows under my hair with the other. I close my eyes trying to get myself together again, and I feel him kissing his way up my body. He positions himself on top of me, caging me between his body and the mattress, and leaves his weight resting on his elbows on either side of my head. Henry leans down and kisses me briefly, letting me taste myself on his mouth, and I wrap my legs around his thick, strong body, to feel him even closer.

Without any warning, he gets inside me, making me gasp loudly and hold onto him for dear life. His thrusts are deep and calculated, as they usually are when he’s in the mood to go slow. My body wraps itself more tightly around his, and we share a breathtaking kiss, making the connection grow even more. As the passion rises, his movements become sloppier and more uncoordinated, which gives away that he’s getting close to his own release. I cling to him even more, hiding my face between his head and shoulder, and he moves one of his hands to stimulate my clit. That’s all I need to come for the second time tonight.

- Ohh, baby, you feel so good. C’mon Hen, cum for me. Know you’re close, come on. – I encourage him and he moans in my ear.

- Oh, baby girl, I’m going to fill you up so good. You’ll feel me right here. – Henry puts his hand on my lower belly and I let out a moan.

- C’mon bear, I can feel you throbbing inside my little cunt, fill me up and put a baby in me.

He lets out a moan and groans loudly, letting himself go inside me, filling my womb with his seed. I don’t know if that comment came because of the heat of the moment, but it caused the effect I was looking for. He lets himself collapse on top of me, and stays there for a couple of seconds before moving his head to the side to kiss me. I reciprocate the gesture, holding him closer to me (as if that was even possible) and finally let him go.

- I love you so much. – I whisper looking at him in the eyes, those beautiful baby blues.

- I love you too, my love. – he kisses my forehead and then breaths in. – I love you too.

It’s the last thing I hear before falling asleep, peacefully wrapped between his strong arms. Where I belong.

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