i try. i rlly do.

Sideblog for roleplaying purposes only. All threads are tagged accordingly and plotting is referred to main blog, where you can find muse and rules!

[oldorthographerps]

a simple 1x1 for those simple threads. sara | 25+ | gmt+1 main blog is orthographewrites where you...

Another nifty reminder I have moved over here! I keep making things harder for myself, but you know :) Now with the proper link and everything!

[oldorthographerps]

abedroomdwellers1x1‌:

“Being my brother is your worst crime yet, and I see no way out of it beyond death.” Sofia scoffed, eyeing Robin from the corner to properly react to his dramatic tendencies. It wasn’t long before she came to a halt and turned around to face him, eyebrows high on her forehead as if Robin had just shared the worst fact of the day. “You really think there’s a person worse than you out there? The world may be big but I highly doubt it. You will have to scout him out and show him off before I believe you.” She shrugged with a simple shake off her head. “Also, I’m not a goody-two-shoes, I’m… reasonable. As you should be in my profession. I prefer to think before I act, which a certain someone has yet to develop as a critical skill.” As far as Sofia was aware, there was a proper way of living a thrillful life without pushing yourself to such extremes – especially ones that involved planning ahead and knowing where to aim in case of danger to ones health. Robin was none of that. “Bones will only heal for so long. we aren’t getting younger and you’re about to pass your thirties. A big step, I might add.” Hell, she could see her fellow police officers that had sat on the force for decades slowly start to fade away – having to cut down on assignments or ones that required longer times off work. “But fine, you do you.” Sofia wasn’t here to argue or ruin their holiday with her thoughts and opinions; although realizing this might be one of few occasions in which she had Robin all to herself for a longer period of time. By the end of the day, her worries didn’t matter to him for some odd reason and she couldn’t do much beyond that point. Without fail, Sofia hurried her steps again, wanting to reach their destination sooner rather than later as the two navigated between other tourists. “Same shit, I’m afraid. Hah, scared you’ll have to party on your own tonight? Don’t think so! I’ll spare you the embarrassment.” 

LATER THAT EVENING

The shopping spree of theirs had run smoothly, Sofia getting her hands of that tea set of her’s and Robin spotting some gifts of his own, which he planned to send off with Sofia and back to their family. Usually it wasn’t like him to waste money on souvenirs, buying gifts during important dates rather because he could -- but today was no common share of his and something worthy to remember, even for those not present. They had stopped at a food stall and filled their bellies with some local cousin and strolled on until they found nothing else of interest, in which they had turned back to their hotel for a nap and shower. It was now past dinner time, with the sun slowly setting below the beach line and showcasing the marvelous sights Thailand had on offer even during nighttime. Robin had spent the last half hour on his balcony, doing nothing besides enjoy the view in front of him and appreciate how fortunate he was to be taking it all in with his own two eyes. A smile stayed on his lips as he eventually rose up from his spot and recognized the hour, blissfully aware of their next stop on the train: the bar. If there was one thing he enjoyed as much as a stunning view and the outdoors, it had to be social drinking. 

After having grabbed his keys and put on some shoes, Robin moved down the hallway until he stood in front of Sofia’s door, knocking twice to gain her attention. “Hey! You done in there or what? We got plans, if you remember.” He took a step back, eyeing the door as if he expected Sofia to show up right on cue but found himself disappointed as it stayed closed. “Should I wait downstairs in the lobby?”

[oldorthographerps]

a simple 1x1 for those simple threads. sara | 25+ | gmt+1 main blog is orthographewrites where you...

Ayy! So this is def a major heads up that I will be moving all of my rping over to this new fancy ass blog! I find myself checking the main far too often on mobile rather than on my actual laptop, which isn’t doing wonders for my muse and I’ve been thinking about this for some time anyway. If I have threads that are close to the finish line, I’ll probably wrap them up on the sideblog rather than the new one but otherwise things should start to get moving around the week! 

(And if the link doesn’t work, I have probably switched the urls so add an s at the end and you’ll be good to go.)

[oldorthographerps]

📞 ROBIN & SOFIA

SOFIA: Her face stiffened, lips tight and narrow at the reveal. Why had he decided to keep this information to himself instead of telling anyone? At least their dads, who held all the right to keep that bastard off their property. The guy shouldn't have showed up unannounced, much less when Robin held no support other than a door between them. "I understand that, I would have felt the same if it had been my biological dad showing up from the middle of nowhere. I'm sorry you had to deal with it on your own, but please don't you ever think there's a time limit when it comes to family. Or non-family at that." The man had proven respectful at least, which was more than you could ask from some people. "He should have called our dads first, arranged a meeting through them instead of going at you. No matter what, it's sentimental and rough to see someone you're supposed to cut ties with. You sure that was all that went down? I'm happy nothing happened, but you really should forward this information in case he changes his mind."

ROBIN: There was an obvious knot inside his stomach as Sofia kept talking, second guessing himself and the reason he had chosen not to share this information sooner. He should have. Especially to his dads, who had done everything in their power to assure he never had to deal with either of his biological parents again. Why was he constantly so against the idea of talking about his issues? Where did the break come from? "I know", he replied thoughtfully, biting his lower lip. "I guess it's... not something I'm ready to deal with and acknowledging that he came by or... that I might have a half-sister of all things..." Robin shrugged, finding a lack of words for his overall feelings. "I don't know what to do with any of it. I mean, I've basically lived my life like I never knew either of them in the first place." Which was preferred. "And yeah, that was all that went down. He wanted to talk, I didn't. He wasn't pushy but I didn't appreciate him showing up unannounced either, as you said. Didn't exactly give me time to think things over or to melt the idea of seeing him again. Kind of messed up. The only weird thing that happened, I guess, was that he tried to put most of the blame on her -- my mom." Robin wrinkled his nose at the thought, letting out a scoff. "He wasn't all that innocent himself."

[ordinaryillusion]

shall we dance | nate & oliver

[oldorthographerps]

ordinaryillusion‌:

“It just seemed like a natural thing to do,” Nate said with a shrug, “I studied dance, and teaching just seemed a step in the right direction. I could’ve opened my own studio, I want to one day, but this is a good starting point.” He also wanted to be a commercial dancer, there were a lot of paths Nate wanted to take, but this was the road he preferred. Maybe it was taking the easy way out, people have told him that he should’ve worked harder or tried things out of his comfort zone, but Nate was a comfort seeker and an adventurous soul all at once. He wanted steady and flexibility, and that was hard to find. In the past where he had commercial gigs, it was amazing to try out new styles and aspects but the pay was little and far in between, and being in a company proved to be too restricted, teaching, he found had that balance. This new job, especially, was a stroke of luck. He was free to explore all his ideas with a steady paycheck, who wouldn’t want that? “Some people love that though, right? Being in the spotlight, I wonder what they like about it.” Nate would like the attention, but as Oliver pointed out, to have your privacy invaded like that, would not be ideal.

“I don’t know, maybe? Some are humble and down to earth, but damn if I had money I would live a somewhat stress free life.” Not having to worry if your bills are paid or if you have enough money for food and gas, sounds like a good life. Nate never struggled to that extent though, sure he did worry about bills, but he knew he could ask his parents for help whenever he was truly stuck. “Oh, that’s like normal people,” he said without thinking, “My perception of rich people is mostly from movies, sorry.” Was Erin a friend? She was his best friend’s best friend. They talked, but not to bond, they were acquaintances at best. “A friend of friend,” he replied, not far away from the truth. “That’s what my teachers taught me, just passing on the wisdom. And I’m gonna ignore that stale comment, because if you’ve ever seen a competition, the energy alone would blow your mind and when the dancing starts, pheww,” he exhaled with a hand over his heart, “It’s electric.” Before joining Avira, that was his life, competition after competition, his missed those days dearly.

“Some of those are actually helpful,” Nate interjected with his thoughts, “Most are useless but some are like finding the needle in a haystack, and you think to yourself how you went your life without it.” The weird side of YouTube is somewhere Nate found himself on late at night, he never seeks out those kind of videos but always seems to end up there at 1 am, call it a talent or bad luck, it never fails to makes him laugh. “Do tell me how that works out for you, I’m not brave enough to re-live MTV days.”

Oliver wasn’t a beginner, as they moved across the floor, Nate could tell he definitely has had some experience in this field, a smile took over his face as they retraced their steps for another round, rusty yes, bad no. “Not bad, not bad at all,” he exclaimed, knowing he found something they could work on filled Nate with immense pleasure. That’s the way it should be with teaching, he was once told, you need to adapt to fit to the students level not try to make they conform to your standards, those words where his equivalent of a light bulb moment. He made that his motto when he started teaching, and promised to never give up on a student. Seeing Oliver ease into the steps and find his pace was a step towards success. As the music faded to a stop, Nate released him and gave Oliver a light applause, “That was very well done, I think a slower pace works much better for you.” he said, moving to turn the music off before it rolled into the next song. “Sadly, we have a few more sessions of faster paced modern dance before we hit the ballroom, and I don’t really want to tell you to skip them, because I feel you would love that, but I also want to see you again. You could show up later and after everyone leaves we can work on footwork, that way when it’s time you won’t feel so out of place. Is that more manageable?”

Although he was quite obviously running a business of his own, he found it hard to see the appeal of being the top dog in charge, beyond the ability to decide your own work methods and hours. It was tiresome at best, unrewarding at its worst and unless you sat on top of the chain work would be the only thing on your schedule for years to come. He didn’t mind the work part as much, but the pressure of looking over other people and constantly staying on track was not to his liking. But, then again, the world would quickly come to a halt in terms of job and opportunities if people never took the chance. If it wasn’t for his own employees and the passion they showed for their job, he would have cut back ages ago. None of this was advice fit to offer a near stranger with a passion of his own, thus he carefully zipped his lips shut and instead gave Nate an understanding nod of thought. “Well, you seem pretty young still and with the right kind of drive I’m sure you can make it no problem. It tend to be tougher for creative careers but as long as you establish proper connections it will be fine.” Oliver shrugged at the second part, unable to cook up an answer that wasn’t a bunch of guesses and further questions. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s all they got going for themselves? Exposure and drama. Sounds kind of sad, in a way.” Surely he had once sat on his own fair share of drama and exposure, but rarely by choice. It had mostly been lies, anyway. 

“Somewhat is definitely the keyword here, I’d say. Not having to worry about money is great but it comes down to how you gain all that money, really. The best way is to win the lottery and disappear to nowhere, no one to bother you or fake their friendship just to get a share.” He scoffed, both at his own words and the ones spoken about rich movie families. “The stereotype came from somewhere, so no harm done. I mean, there’s an equal amount of greedy people as there are generous people inside that bunch. It depends on how they got that far, right?” The comment that threw him off, however, was Nate’s defensive statement against ballroom dancing and for once inside the conversation, Oliver found himself completely lost. What in the world could ever be exciting about watching some people step back and forth to music worthy of sleep? And to call it electric at that? He could understand swing or tango as interesting competitions to watch, but not... that. “I, uh... sure. If you say so. I doubt that’s ever gonna be a thing I’ll spend free time watching but if it has fans, good for it.” No, this was as far away from a passion of his anything could come -- meaning dancing in general. One last reminder as to why he had come here again? 

“Probably a few, but the last time I ended up watching one of those they tried to write off putting your phone inside a fish bowl for better sound a life hack. First, how many people in today’s society even own a round fish bowl or would even consider getting something similar unless you’re already on the older side? Second, you can get the exact same result by putting your phone’s speaker inside a tube. That’s not a life hack, that’s a waste of time.” Not to mention the millions of hacks involving glue guns, without any further instructions on how to use the gun itself or the type of glue gun needed. There was no proper learning involved, no skills acquired. What was the point of it? “Ah, that bad? Maybe it will piss me off more than those life hacks and give me something else to rant about. Could prove useful during my times of necessary social interaction.” 

Oliver barely took a notice of the music, or the way it rolled to an end, Not until Nate’s voice broke through and announced that he was pleased with the small section given. His arms crossed over his chest, one foot scraping restlessly against the floor as he waiting for the session to come to a proper end. A crooked smile overtook his lips, all whilst Nate was walking around joyful, speaking far ahead of Oliver’s own plans of what he desired to do past this point. Yes, he could work with slower paced dance routines and yes, doing it after work hours was possibly the better option overall, but was the idea of coming back tempting? No, not really. What use did he have of this skill besides boasting? Not much. To a degree, it felt near humiliating to put himself in a class of his own, or to force Nate to stay late just because of him but... it was still better than sitting at home sulking. “That’s a lot to consider”, Oliver eventually replied, clearing his throat to keep the nervous thoughts away from his voice. “I don’t really know which evenings I can spare for this as of now, sometimes I have to work late and... sometimes I’m out town for days. But I can think about it.” Was that a good enough conclusion for now? “Maybe you could give me a number to call and I can get back with you once I have more information.” Leaving a subject to boil was perhaps not the best option in terms of himself, far more known to pull away from something rather than act, but it wasn’t a complete lie that he had to look over his schedule before giving a direct yes or no. “But I also don’t require you to work over for my sake, you probably have your own plans and things you need to do.” 

[oldorthographerps]

we meet again | erin & oliver

[oldorthographerps]

ordinaryillusion‌:

“Boy…” Erin turned her head hiding an annoyed laugh that rose to the surface, his audacity and poor choice of insult rendered her speechless for a few seconds. “Sloppy and stinky? That’s all you got? What pre-school kid taught you those terrifying insults?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her tone, Erin didn’t expect much from him, but she expected better than that. “If I’m supposed to apologise for my ‘sloppy hands’ fixing your mess of an office, you’ve got the wrong chick, kid.” He was truly crossing the line now, at first his choice of words made her laugh, but as his tone settled in, Erin found herself growing annoyed as the seconds went by, and that seemed to be the constant feeling every time they interacted, irritation and wishing time would go by quicker. It didn’t take a blind man to see that they didn’t like each other, and true to what they say, first impressions are everything, and Erin’s impression of him will forever be seeped in nuisance and displeasure. 

“I don’t care,” she dismissed his explanation with a wave of her hand, “It was just an expression, I don’t need your life story.” Erin could speculate on his origins but that’s wasted brain power, he didn’t deserve a second thought. “What’s it to you? Do you-” She was going to snap back asking if owned the place, but the previous encounter and talks with her mother about who she worked for began to surface in her mind, so she quickly swallowed that sentence. A few moments of deliberation, and considering the telling off her mother will give her if she bad-mouthed her boss, Erin sighed in defeat. “I’m meeting my mother for lunch, if you really must know,” she said pointing to the half-eaten pasta bowl, “But of course, she had to run off on a important call,” she added with a tight lipped smile, “What are you doing here?” and before he could interject with some obvious bullshit reply, she quickly spoke, “And if you say lunch break, re-consider because I will throw things at you.” She would rather face her mother’s wrath a hundred times over than deal with him. “Mother says you rarely come out of your office, so please, go back brooding in your corner and leave me alone.”

As the woman kept talking, adding her unnecessary commentary on a topic already breaching its end, Oliver could feel the heat of steam vaults press on and beg to be let open. Since when had he given off the impression he was trying to one-up her in terms of insults, beyond showing his distaste in regards to her unwelcome company? His offices had nearly come with the same outline for him no matter where he lived; it being a sanctuary for him to dive into projects at his own pace and something to leave behind for later whenever those projects craved more energy that he was willing to commit to. Back home, only a mere few had been allowed to step into his office when he wasn’t around to accompany them; the same went for here, with this snotty brat not being part of said list. “You really think you have the authority to call pre-school on me, when you literally fled the scene of the crime instead of answering to me like a proper adult? So yes, considering it was my office and you entered it uninvited I do believe I deserve an apology -- or at least a damn answer as to why you were fumbling around with my papers. That’s important information, I can’t have it disappear on me.” He had his order, his methods and ways of organizing and he surely did not need someone else to wreck that system first chance they got. If she believed him to be a disorganized person, so be it -- considering it was a most mellow blow to his being, in comparison to what he was otherwise used to -- but he did own the right to dismiss her “service”. Could you call it that? 

Then, as with a swift change of conversation, it seemed something had gotten the better of her -- or that she had come to the realization of where she was and who she was up against. Her mother? Of course, he had almost guessed as much already but he still stood as a question mark in terms of who she was, or even who said mother was. “Ah, yes, your mother... that would narrow it down to about”, Oliver paused, pretend counting on his fingers, “half my workforce. Truly cleared it up for me, thank you.” As she pushed on, grasping at whatever straws she seemed given, Oliver raised his eyebrows at the rather odd suggestion that he strayed from the core of his reason to be inside a, well, lunch room with food in his hands. “I see said mother didn’t teach you any manners, good for her.” He nodded ever so casually, finally removing his lunch box from the microwave with the intention of sitting down on the far end off this guest of theirs -- until the last part put him at an halt. “What?” His voice went from casual to stern, jaw locking shut as the steam vault made itself known once more. His stare shifted over into a knife sharp glare and his fingers stayed wrapped around the box. In any other instance, such a comment would much so have made him turn on his heel and head back the way he’d come but this time, his head told him no. She was the guest here, inside a building he owned whilst making a rather nasty impression on her mother’s boss -- why should he leave? “You should consider yourself lucky that I appreciate my workers and don’t throw them off the edge due to impeccable family members, Miss.” Oliver’s voice turned low, filled with a serious bite to his words as he pulled out a chair next to her, making sure she heard the unnerving, dedicated scratches of its legs moving across the floor before he sat down and added: “Don’t push it.”

[oldorthographerps]

📞 ROBIN & SOFIA

SOFIA: Of course he'd try and downplay the conversation, it was a known factor by now that Robin wasn't quite capable of digging deep. They were sort of in the opposite end of the same problem, in which Robin preferred to upkeep his cheery self as people have grown used to him being the light of a party; whilst she was more so the damp sock that sent people flying high if she dared play nice and happy. Terrific. "I've always trusted you, idiot, otherwise I wouldn't have covered you as often as I do whenever you come home injured and our parents flip. However, I can view cases on different levels -- some acquire more input from my part." Sofia's eyebrows narrowed as she kept listening, hearing the change of tone in her brother's voice that loved to linger around her head. "It's good to talk about things, no matter how big or small. Or if it belongs to the past, especially if it still bothers you." Her push forward was gentle, not wanting to scare Robin into dismissing his feelings. That, until she heard the rest. "Say what not? Uh... I cannot remember you mentioning anything about. When did this happen and how?"

ROBIN: If there was one thing he loved about Sofia, it had to be her level-headed attitude towards problems. She never rushed into things and tried her best to see both sides to a problem, rather than the one that benefitted to her needs and wants. She often came out as the sane one, however, the one with the answers and a path to chose. Robin had walked himself into a corner with this overall topic, speechless at best whilst a low shame bubbled up to the surface of his latest reveal. He should have mentioned something about his biological dad sooner, not have it pop into reality years down the line when it hardly mattered anymore. Or, well... maybe it still did, if to trust Sofia's words. "Yeah, I guess so." He sighed to himself, knowing there was no turning back from this. "Maybe because I didn't? I don't know... it felt kind of strange seeing him again and I don't think I fully wrapped my head around the event until a while later and by then... it felt kind of old and unimportant. It's not like anything happened. He just came knocking one evening whilst I had the house to myself, introduced himself and asked me if I wanted to talk to him. Said some stuff about going through an anger management course and god knows what. I wasn't all that keen to listen, I kind of just wanted him to leave and that he did. Haven't heard anything from him since."

[oldorthographerps]

TEXT: FLORENCE & OPHELIA

OPHELIA: science can choke if thats what it takes to figure it out! but fine :c if they do anything tho tell me and ill come beat them up for you

OPHELIA: i could be ;D i might end up making up a bunch of random facts to fill the void inside my head but youll never know

OPHELIA: i feel so honored to be your friend uggghhh

FLORENCE: haha, you really would? i kind of want to see you fight someone now ;) but also psst please dont put yourself in danger

FLORENCE: oh youd really do that?? now i need to read up beforehand you so you dont go out of your way to trick poor gullible me :( i would buy it and you know that!

FLORENCE: whens our one day anniversary? because i do feel like we should celebrate that with something fancy!

[oldorthographerps]

TEXT: BELLE & OLIVER

BELLE: Maybe it's about time you start to listen to what either of us has to say :) We mean well, even if we can get a little pushy~

BELLE: Oh, you'd rather not make a scene? That's a new one!

BELLE: Woah!? What did I do now :( You can't just pull this on me thinking I'm just going to let it go. When have I even been impossible to talk to????

OLIVER: I listen to everything you have to say, but whether I care to take it into action is another matter. Or if I want to. My life!

OLIVER: Har har, how delightful. I don't start stuff, I just have a knack for ending up in the middle of it. Different shit.

OLIVER: You're not impossible to talk to in that sense, but as mentioned up above you do get a little pushy even when I have stated I don't care for it. I know it comes from a good place and I love you for it, but I simply do not care. That's the deal. I don't care.

[oldorthographerps]

spciler‌:

Despite listing irreconcilable differences on their divorce papers, Lionel knew him through and through…or at least, all sorts of expression he makes. Bridget knew how deep the lines on his face will get depending on his mood or how he will how he will hold his breath when he couldn’t voice out what was running on his mind. It wasn’t the hurtful words they said to each other that sent their marriage down the drain. It was the things that change between them, the things they kept to each other and just blown up when they finally had enough. She could tell he had doubts about the idea brewing in her mind. Or he couldn’t simply didn’t trust her. Not like she could really blame him. Sebastien’s already teenager and she still struggle. The only thing that was making her feel about their situation was her ex-husband didn’t seem to know what he was doing as well. Was it too late for them to sort out their priorities?    “ That at least we can agree on. “   Though it wasn’t fair for both of them to blame them despite the amount of money to pay for his education. They were supposed to raised him. 

His question warranted an eyeroll and a glare. Lionel knew how to push her buttons with his indirect jab at her inability to read what their son wanted and how he was a little closer to him than her even if he was still distant to both of them.    “ Well, I can try. I had certainly tried it with other people. Maybe, for once, we could try to listen and give him the benefit of the doubt. “    Her voice cracked a little as he kept herself from yelling at him. Perhaps, she actually meant herself and not their son. Bridget, thought she wouldn’t admit, knew she was far from being a perfect mother or wife to the most important men in her life but she wanted to be appreciated sometimes. With a newfound determination fueled by anger, there was nothing she wanted more that to prove him wrong. 

That night, she stayed up late coming up with what to prepare his family. She wanted it something she could prepare easily prepare but not trying to hard. Mostly because she knew that once she did, she might mess it up. She decided to go with lasagna, country-style fried chicken and a Ceasar salad. Bridget decided not to try with desserts and decided to just buy ice cream and texted her a favor to bake some blueberry and almond shaving pie. She couldn’t risk setting her house on fire. 

The next morning, she woke up early and got ready. She was running around the kitchen for three hours or so, preparing everything as planed and as how the internet instructed her to prepare for things. She was just dropping a chicken into the fryer when her son appeared in the kitchen to get some water, obviously shocked at the scene . His reaction was not a surprised, she had not been in the kitchen to cook for years. She didn’t think Seb has saw her cooking before. He never utter a word, silence by his confusion. She asked him to help him set up the table after an hour. Bridget didn’t know what to expect as she was getting anxious but her son showed up, still not speaking a word and still confused but started searching for placemats. A moment later, her door bell rang and for a moment, she forgot that she was pissed at Lionel as relief warmed her up. 

“ Help your son set the table. I don’t think he knows what he is doing. “    Bridget said the moment she opened the door knowing who it was. No hello, no please come in. Just her opening the door and saying that. Bridget forgetting he manners was never intentional, it’s either she was very nervous or in the brink of having an anxiety attack.

Coming home that evening was the first of few in which work hadn’t managed to keep his head busy. He wasn’t exactly a workaholic in any sense but considering his job consisted of reading books, it usually came as a good distraction whenever he craved some time of his own. To dig into the mind of perhaps a new wonder on the literary market, to fume over the most common mistakes that many writers often glossed over or to simply offer someone a quick review of their story eased him like nothing else really could. Bri had once stood as a reason to relax, not to mention his own son, but lately -- especially after today -- he found his stress levels travel through the roof. He craved guidance, for someone else to step into his shoes and correct the many errors through the path of life. For a while, Lionel considered calling his sister for a chance to lift some of the burdens off of his chest, however, he decided against it. She had long stood as the prime example of the Bauman family, the mere sibling to have her priorities in check unlike himself or their other brother Logan. Hell, even their half-sister, which Lionel had barely spoken to since his father’s move. 

No, instead he chose to head for bed early, to curl up among the blankets and slowly prepare for his second meeting with Bridget -- alongside Sebastien. They had to up their strategy, think above and beyond, reconnect with the missing link between them. They had to do it for the sake of their son. 

Little did he know what to expect, as morning embraced him and reminded him of what to come. Thankfully he had enough on his plate in terms of phone calls and a lunch date to keep the hours passing forward. Lionel stayed on his toes, but denied the coming discussions access to overpower his otherwise missions, focusing on whatever object of means that got in his way. Even, somewhere deep within, hoping one of them would give him reason to cancel his plans with Bri. It never happened, though, and eventually, he found himself seated inside his car and back on the road again. He never drove these parts unless he had to pick up Seb, finding no reason to cross paths with his past unless necessary and the feelings of regret began to creep up his spine like a vine of anxiety. 

Then, it all stopped. Lionel’s eyes had landed on Bri’s front door like a dart hitting bullseye, a single inhale of sunken car air to push down his thoughts unless his head sat empty. If he had to fix Seb’s situation, he had to begin by fixing his own -- something he clearly couldn’t do if he kept avoiding it... her. Them. One step at a time, that was all they had to do. Try and try again until something stuck to the wall of memories that wasn’t negative and broken. He hurried to open the car door, pushed himself against the porch and the bell that would announce his arrival. Lionel didn’t even bother to wait for either of them to open up, figuring Bri would understand it was he and not some random stranger. 

It wasn’t long from the moment in which he stepped into the kitchen before his eyebrows rose high and his temporary confident switched over to confusion and disbelief. “Um... okay, if you say so.” His eyes wandered through the room before they fell on Seb, and soon enough a smile took over his face in an attempt to keep the situation civil. “Hey, there -- how you doing? I can see that your mom is trying to experiment again.” For this time, it was a friendly jab, even if it only warranted a casual shrug from his son’s direction along with a: “I guess.” Lionel quickly placed a gentle pat on his back, grabbing for the forks and spoons Seb had left in the middle of the table. His attention shifted back over at Bri. “It... smells good. What are you making?” 

[oldorthographerps]

📞 ROBIN & SOFIA

SOFIA: "Maybe not, but one time is still one time too many. I know you're too much of a softie sometimes, I just don't want anyone to take advantage of that. But okay, I'll trust you on that one." She didn't, not fully, but she wasn't about to start an argument before meeting the girl. Even if the girl itself wasn't interested, maybe that hag of a mom was. "Do that. I'd prefer to know what she's about before you make a move on her, do you think I should try nice cop, bad cop?" The last part was nothing but a mere joke, to a degree, hoping to lighten the surrounding mood. It didn't last long. "It's not meh, Robin. She's still your biological mother. I'm surprised as well, although... I can't say I know much about what she did to lose custody in the first place. Neither of you guys want to talk about it."

ROBIN: "Are you cutting out? I'm not sure I could hear you... Sof-? I - " Without further hesitation, Robin mimicked the sounds of unstable buzzing, moving the phone away from his ear to play out the step of fading away from the connection. He was quite certain he could hear Sofia roll her eyes, making him erupt a laugh and return to the conversation. "Did I hear that right? You TRUST me? Dang! I should have recorded this!" This time it was Robin who rolled his eyes, knowing damn well his sister wouldn't mind pulling an ace out of her sleeves if necessary. "Cute, I bet she'd love it. Might even confess to her dark plans if you play it nice enough." A sigh, his mood dropping an octave as he bit his lower lip in thought. This wasn't exactly his favorite topic to dive into, but Sofia held a point about nearly clueless in terms of his past. "You knowing isn't going to change much, I guess... I just never thought to dig into it once I'd packed and left. Plus, um... this might not be the first time I get in contact with my biological parents since... the whole ordeal. Kind of. Yeah." Robin shrugged, although Sofia was unable to see his casual reaction. "Lydia would be part of the future, not the past though."

[oldorthographerps]

alicemorganrps‌:

“And?” She repeated the single syllable he uttered, mimicking the tone of his voice. Peering through a frame of long, dark lashes, her eyes narrowed barely as her stare prolonged. She canted her head sideways, as though feigning curiosity and interest in the words Oliver spoke with what she could only presume was an air of ill-fitted condescension. It didn’t suit him well, but she bit her tongue, pursed her lips and luxuriated in the amusement he never ceased to deliver her on silver platters. The way she could just tell how her sole presence irked him, a near-loathsome undertone twisting his words into something reaching beyond simply annoyance. It bordered on the grounds of meaty irritation and it only caused her lips to twist into something greater than the grin they bore now. The serpentine-smile fledged into something uncannily crooked, a grin wider than the Cheshire Cat’s, based on the century-old delivery of a famous tale. “Well, aren’t you adorable, pookie?” Despite the expression she still carried atop her darkened features, her voice was void of evidence of her amusement or even a sole semblance of something akin to niceness. Her words’ edges were honed just enough to fall steady below an even remotely threatening lilt, with just the right amount of heavy graveness pulling at the syllables she strung. “When have I ever implied you or anyone had to accept it?” When had she ever implied she cared? She pushed herself from the warm seat on the couch, she’d previously occupied, brought herself some steps closer to him in a slow, nonchalant tread. Her grin had now given way to the much more common expression, lacking evident depiction of any emotion but sole neutrality. “If I really bother you that much, Oliver”, a beat, tender pause and she halted her step right beside him, “up your game and actually put some effort in securing your house.” 

Continuing her walk past him, exiting the homely living area, she was negligent to the trail she’d left atop floorboards, the soles of her boots crushing the crumbs further. “You’re a smart kid, Oliver. I’m sure you’ll find a much more efficient way than making use of a fucking broom. Better leave that one up to the witches in fairy tales.” Another pause in motion, shifting her weight and turning around to face Oliver once more. “Although, it’d be kind of hilarious to watch you run around with a broom.” A shrug, as she proceeded on a straight path toward the kitchen. “Oh well. Or you could try asking nicely this time around. Saying please, like – you know … normal people.” She was well aware he’d likely used this tactic before, to no avail. Couldn’t be bothered to pay mind to the fact or his upcoming, likely so very predictable response. 

His nose wrinkled as if he had caught wind of a bad smell around the room, wondering why he even bothered to argue with Caden at all. She didn’t have it in her to listen, they had already established as much. No, these days it was more a matter of pride from his own side, not wanting to let someone like her step him all over and have her crown herself the king of the castle. It was something akin to childish, their constant back and forths with no real ending and no real start, but he reckoned he had to put himself on the same level as his opponent if he ever wished to outsmart them. “Pookie? Hah, I’m not the one who smells like a homeless dog, now am I?” His eyes swept over Caden’s upper body in a swift motion, resting the urge to play on it further. True and true, he barely knew where she hung around -- or lived -- whenever she wasn’t busy destroying his peaceful days but as of now, he didn’t have the passion to care. The sooner he could get her out of his hair, the happier he’d be. “Oh yeah, because getting you to understand words such as ‘get out’ or ‘leave me the hell alone’ is such an easy task. I’ll remember it for next time.” 

A drawn out, mental sigh broke up the proper wordings he wanted to spit back in regards to the topic of people not giving a fuck about his wants and wishes. It traveled above people’s heads, twisted itself on the halfway road and then got tossed back onto his face like acid instead by people who refused to acknowledge his needs. Caden didn’t have the exact same punch to her, but the basic was all the same of unnecessary fuss that only drained him of the little energy he possessed these days. She did have a point about the last part, however, even if it wasn’t by the purpose of keeping her out. At best he locked his door and left his house in the clear, even with a tremendous amount of knowledge and history hidden away inside his library that was riddled with secrets about his kind. Not that he left his house all that often, but still. “And I guess you already have a perfect master plan to share with me? To keep a reckless werewolf out and away from my house I’d have to turn my home into a fucking castle -- barely worth it.” 

He was quite thankful his people had decided to adapt with the times, leaving things that belonged in the past -- such as brooms -- but he still found himself oddly offended that Caden would refer to it as a ‘fairy tale’ of all things. “Last time I checked my ancestors aren’t a piece of fiction, Caden. Just because people keep associating us with brooms doesn’t mean it never happened or won’t come back in fashion. I’d rather it damn didn’t but I can’t say it won’t.” Thankfully he wasn’t overly prideful when it came to their history or old traditions, but he had more than once met a witch or a wizard that wouldn’t hesitate to hex someone with disrespectful manners. Maybe the idea itself wasn’t half bad... “I use please when people deserve to hear it. Which is hardly ever. You’re not part of that list.” 

[ordinaryillusion]

shall we dance | nate & oliver

[oldorthographerps]

ordinaryillusion‌:

“Well, my work does demand me to be more outgoing, but I like people so I guess it’s not totally out of my comfort zone, but yeah I get where you’re coming from.” Nate had always been a hyperactive person, doing million things at once, an he surrounded himself with people like that too, sure he had his days, but the overall picture painted him as an extrovert. “I bet you there’s tons like that! But you can always create a new dance sensation, who knows you might even be famous! You can call it the Dark or make it so it can only be done when the lights are off or something, that would be hilarious,” Nate let out a chuckle at that thought, he was sure Oliver would find this silly, but but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get a good laugh out of it. 

“Oh damn, you know what? This explains a lot of things! I know a girl that sort is in the same boat as you, doesn’t play video games, talks fancy words, had nannies growing up, thinks she’s too cool for the world…not that I think that about you or anything,” Nate quickly added so he wouldn’t take offence, “But yeah her parents were fancy and rich, like Upper East Side rich, she’s a sarcastic little fireball to be honest with you, but anyway I get it! You just had a different childhood to mine, to each their own, you can try watching MTV now if you have the time, though I do warn you it’s super cringey.” When he was a kid, Nate on occasion wanted to come from a rich family but looking back on his life now, he couldn’t have imagined it any other way. “And hey, this gives us an advantage, I just so happened to be trained in ballroom dancing, so our worlds overlap here,” he said with a smile. “You’ve tried my stuff, and we found common ground, this session has been very successful.”

“Oh gaming is extremely popular, it’s pretty much seen as a profession nowadays, can you imagine? Getting paid to game? That’s a sweet life. Ah, those phone games get boring really fast, so I don’t blame you, Don’t worry, I won’t be dragging you anywhere but to the dance floor, that’s the only place where I push people out of their comfort zones.” Nate knew all too well about dragging people to do things, he had done that on multiple occasions, not of them went well of course, you can’t force people to do something they don’t want. 

“Of course, of course,” Nate took a hold of Oliver’s hands in his own and gripped it lightly, “Shall we try a quick ballroom dance? Hopefully, this will be more comfortable for you. Steps are simple enough; forward, a step to the side and back. You lead, and I’ll follow.”

Sometimes he wondered why he hadn’t followed in the footsteps of Cora in terms of how to run a business. Just him, a shop, enough tasks to cover the bills and no one else to bother him between accepting said tasks. His current set-up wasn’t terrible, he had enough space and his employees were as respectful as they could be with their boss but the side actions that came with it near butchered him at times. Having to travel for meetings, score deals and contracts -- hell, even having to attend social gatherings that often reminded him of home. Not to his fancy. “What made you want to become a dance teacher? Beyond getting to meet people, that is.” He had tried the teacher gig as well, which was even less to his liking. At least Nate didn’t have homework to grade. “Oh, yeah, because I sure would enjoy becoming famous”, Oliver threw back with a hint of humor behind his words. “Nothing quite like having no privacy and people judging every step you take, I might have found my calling.” A mental scoff. No, he had dived away from that trap and he wasn’t going back anytime soon. 

“Are you telling me you think all rich people are the same?” His face turned stern, eyes narrowing at his suggestion whilst his hand landed comfortably against his waist. There was no real threat behind his actions, but he couldn’t deny he enjoyed watching people stumble a little. He was already wasting his afternoon at this place, better make the best out of it. Eventually, he let his arm fall back to his side, waving away the suggestion with a swift movement of his other hand. “No one was hired to look after me though, it was mostly family and friends whenever they had time to spare.” His mom had enough on her plate already back then, it was just a shame his grandma had became forbidden to look after him after Eleanor found out about her mom teaching him how to curse. Did he think he was too cool for the world, however? Hardly, and more on the opposite side of things. The less of a stamp he could leave around him, the better. “Is this girl a friend of yours?” Oliver rarely got along with other rich people, but who knew these days. “You think finding common ground is enough of a success? Wow, I wish you’d been my teacher growing up. Ballroom dancing is pretty stale, but it gets you moving.” He shrugged, wondering why the art of it still thrived to this day. 

“It seems you can make a pretty penny out of most things these days, as long as you’re creative about it and know how to market yourself.” He had, during some boring days, found himself scouting places such as Youtube or historical sites to dull his senses and he could easily say he preferred one above the other. “The worst thing I’ve laid my eyes on would have to be these life hack videos that keep popping up everywhere. Watching all these people complicate otherwise solvable matters without even slowing down to explain how it’s done... that baffles me. So I doubt MTV would be much worse, but I’ll try to give it a shot one day.” What did he have to lose these days? Time? That he had plenty of. 

Eventually, his head moved away from the discussion of things that were cringe and whatever annoyed him these days, over to the fact he still had a challenge to overcome before he was allowed to leave this place. One dance. That was all. “Why the hell not”, he replied and accepted Nate’s hand into his own, repeating the steps to himself to remember the flow of his movements. How long had it been since he last pulled a ballroom dance? Definitely not since coming to Canada and he could recall a faint last memory of Irene attempting to pair him off with some random woman -- and laughing her ass off at his awkwardness of trying to interact. It hadn’t made him smile back then and there, but somehow it eased him up as he casually took control of the situation. If nothing else, this was at least his first time pulling it off with another man. “Fine, here we go... tell me if I’m moving too quickly, I’m a little rusty.” His body made a swift notion forward, giving Nate enough room to move on his own body backward. There was a gentle nudge from Oliver’s side, wanting to make an effort in letting Nate read his steps whilst trying to keep with the pace. 

[oldorthographerps]

we meet again | erin & oliver

[oldorthographerps]

ordinaryillusion‌:

“Mother…don’t you dare leave…Mother! Are you serious right now?” Erin whisper-yelled at her mother who chatted away phone pressed ear, what was the point of inviting her own daughter to lunch, if you weren’t planning to lunch at all? Erin should’ve known not to expect too much, but her she was, being made a fool again. “Fantastic, thanks for that,” she said shaking her head as her mother turned the corner and disappeared from view. “Now what?” There wasn’t a lot she could do, as Erin saw it she only had two options: stick around or leave, one of them is mother-approved and the other was what Erin wanted to do from the beginning. 

If Erin was familiar with this place, there would be little to stop her from leaving, but seeing as this was a different country, she figured it would be wise to save her mother from a heart attack. Defeated, Erin slumped into one of the slightly comfier looking chair in the break room, no sooner had she done that she was back on her feet again, if she was going to stick around she should at least have food in her stomach, surely her mother didn’t want her daughter on the brink her starvation, “At least the daughter is present for this supposed mother-daughter lunch date,” she mumbled as she rummaged through the fridge looking for the  lunch her mother didn’t want to eat. A quick minute in the microwave later, Erin sat back down in her chosen chair and picked away at the pasta pieces. 

She was in the middle of typing out a message to her best friend warning him to never come to Canada or he die of boredom, when a voice distracted her. Looking up to meet this voice, Erin immediately rolled her eyes at the sight. It was him, he had a odd knack at popping up at unwanted places. “Broke in?” Erin let out a sharp laugh, as she recalled the event he spoke about, breaking in isn’t how she would describe it, “If my memory doesn’t fail me, and it doesn’t, I believe I helped you and you still haven’t properly thanked me,” she said crossing her arms across her chest. “I thought Canadians were polite.”

She had helped him? The faint idea of a stranger dealing with his mess being called “help” made him wince. He had a clear system of how he preferred to store his work material, of who was allowed to touch the books inside his shelves or sit by his desk. She was none of that. Another two or so days things would have gone back to normal and he would have been able to deal with assignments left behind in his own pace. Not by having someone judge him for a bad month, knowing rather well there was probably no living person able to care about order when they hadn’t slept properly for a time. Oliver had never asked for her help and thus saw no reason to act any further on the topic of a ‘thank you’ she so dearly thought she deserved. “Oh yeah, thank you for putting your stinky ass feet on my desk and your sloppy fingers on my books -- truly appreciate it.” Oliver shook his head in a dismissive manner, placing his focus on the microwave as opposed to his company instead. 

The last section caused a sarcastic laugh to erupt, half turning around with a modest look on his face. “Good thing I’m not Canadian then, at least not by the roots.” As far as he was aware, he hadn’t adopted any type of a Canadian accent -- or even a French-Canadian one, considering which province they were at. He had spoken fluent English since the start of his childhood, French being a mere second. “Going to tell me why you’re here again? I’d prefer to know what type of people leave and enter this place.” Not that she seemed harmful in any way, he more so guessed she was related to someone working underneath him but it didn’t hurt to put her up against the wall. Make sure she didn’t overstep her boundaries whilst visiting as he couldn’t have her wander off on her own, especially not towards the basement area he had so carefully crossed off the second he had gotten the establishment back up and running again. Better safe than sorry. 

[ordinaryillusion]

shoot the messenger || a & m

[oldorthographerps]

ordinaryillusion‌:

“Oh, don’t you play games with me,” Amelia hissed down the phone, “You know exactly who this is and what’s it’s about, god, what goes on in that evil head of yours? Hmm? You think people will just succumb to your every whim and command just because you’re an inspector? Well, not me!” 

Anger and irritation bubbled inside her, Amelia sought perfection in every thing she does, and she knew for a fact her restaurant was spotless at the time of he  inspection, she saw to that, but sure, one bad review is not the end of the world, but what made her grind her teeth was the source of the review. Monique. Even the simple thought of her name made Amelia frown in annoyance, because she was nothing but that, a pain in the neck. 

“Nova, deserves 5 stars and somewhere in your icy, cold heart, you know this too, so cut the crap and tell me why are you so hell bent on trying to ruin my career, AGAIN!” 

Monique slumped back in her chair, twirling with the tip of her toes as the woman in her ear kept rambling on. It came off familiar, but the name itself stayed a blur inside her head. She wasn’t offered much of a break to dwell either, as it was clear she was pissed at something, spitting accusations from both right and left. Monique had to scoff out loud, barely keeping up her charade of professionalism. “Succumb to my every whim? Oh, I truly do wish that was the case. This city would have cleaned up in no time, however, it is my job to point out flaws and potential threats to costumers. Food poisoning is a serious issue, madam.” 

Nova. Nova... oh, that was right. The Roth family. It wasn’t her first run-in with either of them, but when it had come to her attention that their daughter was opening up on her own, her interest had piqued and left her sniffing around for clues. They struck a nerve and Monique quite enjoyed rubbing smiles off their faces, to watch a little of a struggle unfold next to their undoubtful success. Obviously, they weren’t the only victims of her unstoppable chaos, but Amelia had to be one of her favorites to nudge. “All my reviews are honest and true to my experiences, perhaps you’re simply one of those that cannot see the fault of your ways and prefer to push it over on others?” The corner of her lip twitched, leaving the imprint of a wanted grin. “Or, perhaps you’re simply just not cut out to run a business, Ms. Roth.”

[oldorthographerps]

TEXT: FLORENCE & OPHELIA

OPHELIA: no!! dont interact or bother with those cavemen im sure we can find the answeres elsewhere :S i dont even want to imagine you in that type of situation ewww

OPHELIA: do it!!!! i promise you its going to be a blast ;) especially since you got me guiding you~

OPHELIA: nawwww now im actually blushing hush

FLORENCE: neither do i but its a small step for science and will offer me a proper reason to get near them in the first place. but its sweet of you to say that :*

FLORENCE: oh so youre a tour guide now? thats a new one ;) im looking forward to it!

FLORENCE: good because you need to know youre precious by all means

[oldorthographerps]

TEXT: BELLE & OLIVER

BELLE: She roasts you because she cares and thats the only way youll ever listen to her! So if she roasts your cloths it means she agrees with me and that you can do something about it :D

BELLE: Ugh no business taaaaaaalk and I don't care okay?! I think you can do better by showing them the future of it all :) You can get them talking instead, which is way more fun

BELLE: That's not a valid answer.

OLIVER: Sure, if you say so. Still won't change my answer because I have literally never cared about a thing she's tried to advise me on before. She's getting too cocky these days, that's what.

OLIVER: I have other ways to get them talking. No need to make a scene.

OLIVER: Well that's all I'm willing to offer because I know how you get when I try and prove you wrong on something. Not doing that today.