Who Tells Your Story

Do whatever it takes to get the story

[ripleyskeeter]

tomness:

“It does sound like a plan,” Thomas said with a smile. “This is true. I do hate sports, especially ones with sweaty old men running after a ball and swinging their bats about. Not good.”

“So you’ll do it? Or at least consider it? I’d love to have you back at the Prophet with me, it’ll be just like when we met.” Ripley could only hope he’d accept. She was more than sure that she could pull a few strings to get him a place somewhere at the paper. “I promise it won’t involve any sports.”

[ripleyskeeter]

the-hot-ness:

“Nothing good for the column today?” he asked, following along. He was surprised to hear the young woman was a Skeeter, having not expected someone as outgoing and bubbly as her to be from that family. “Mark, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ripley. And really, I appreciate the help.”

“Gossip is rarely ever good. Entertaining maybe, but rarely good and almost never founded in pure fact.” Ripley beamed up at him as she led him to the elevator. “Like I said, I need the break. This is completely selfish.” His name stuck out to her, the same as Tom’s brother, though she shook off the feeling. There was no way this could be the same person.

[ripleyskeeter]

tati-hayes:

“Anything interesting in the new gossip column?” Tatiana asked curiously. “Or is it still just people asking for advice about there love life?”

“No spoilers,” she stated. “And no, the advice column and gossip column have officially parted ways.”

[ripleyskeeter]

tati-hayes:

“If you wanna go train the owl, please be my guest Ripley but frankly, here’s your letter.”

Ripley couldn’t help chuckling as she took the letter, skimming it quickly. “Thanks. Now I can finally finish tomorrow’s column.”

[ripleyskeeter]

tati-hayes:

“Right, so i’m suppose to believe that a bird who’s been trained to deliver letters.. can’t even drop a letter at the right persons desk.”

“Not if he’s never been to that specific desk. He won’t know the way, which places blame solely on the owl’s owner and trainer.”

[tati-hayes]

“Believe this belongs to you..” Tatiana said simply, holding out the letter. “Don’t even ask how it got on my desk because I don’t even have an answer except for a stupid owl took a wrong turn.”

[ripleyskeeter]

“Don’t blame the messenger, blame the sender. A simple bird can only remember so much.”

[ripleyskeeter]

tomness:

“My parents would murder me, Rip.” Thomas said, even though the idea was indeed appealing. “But it would be nice. The shitty paper I work for has lumbered me with sports. Cricket, to be more specific.”

“Hence the secret part of the suggestion,” Ripley  mused, poking him gently in the ribs. “Come on, we could work together.” A soft laugh. “But you hate sports.”

[ripleyskeeter]

the-hot-ness:

“It really is…” he muttered, scanning the lobby again. It was certainly a different kind of bustle than he was used to. “Oh, um, a reporter. Hayes, er, Tatiana Hayes.” Mark clarified, unsure if the girl knew her, after all he didn’t know everyone that worked in the Ministry. “I’d hate to take you away from your work. Are you sure?”

“I work in gossip, so trust me when I say the break is more for my benefit than yours,” she quipped, nodding her head as she began walking. “I can’t tell you where her exact desk is, but I do know which part of the building she’ll be in. Names Skeeter, by the way. Ripley Skeeter.”

[ripleyskeeter]

tristan-flint:

“Wonderful.” Tristan muttered as his eyes rolled. He laughed and told her to have a good one before redirecting his attention to the work at hand. It’d been a longer day than he’d like to admit, but he blamed that on the several reporters coming up to him trying to get the inside scoop of how James was acting at home with his father still missing; something he told them he wasn’t going to discuss and simply let them “guess” at how he was. He wrapped up, grabbed his bag, and walked over to Ripley’s desk. “Come on, let’s get those drinks. I need at least five after my day.”

Ripley was just finishing up a piece on celebrity gossip involving some fresh scandal, courtesy of a source close to Celestina Warbeck, when Tristan arrived. She quickly saved the article before sending it off and tucking away her things. She slung her back over her shoulder with a nod. “Well, you’ll have to get the cheap stuff then, because I’m feeling generous and drinks are on me.”

[ripleyskeeter]

the-hot-ness:

After only one date, he thought it would be overstepping his boundaries – actually, he knew it would be – however if Mark was going to keep the girl of his dreams interested in him, he had to keep up with his game. He walked into the lobby of the Daily Prophet, a single rose twirling in his hands as his eyes moved across the building. “Here I thought the Ministry was confusing….” he grumbled to himself, walking forward although he had no idea where he was going. The auror had been so lost in himself that he hadn’t noticed a young woman walking in the opposite direction, accidentally colliding with her. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Mark breathed, running a hand through his hair before offering to help pick up the mess he had helped create. “I don’t normally zone out like that, I was just looking for someone.”

@ripleyskeeter

Ripley waved off the apology, kneeling to collect her papers. “Don’t even worry about it. I did almost the exact same thing my first day here. It’s...a lot to take in all at once. She offered a friendly smile, showing she really wasn’t upset by the mess he’d created for her. Once everything was stacked back into a neat pile, she swept it up into her arms and rose to her feet. “Who are you looking for? I don’t mind playing tour guide to help you find them.”

[ripleyskeeter]

tomness:

“Thank you,” Thomas smiled as he looked away for a fleeting moment. He didn’t let his smile extinguish, but he could feel it waver at the mention of his parents. “I did, but they weren’t for it.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered, frowning slightly. What she couldn’t understand was why he didn’t just take control of his own life. He was an adult, he had to be allowed to choose his own path. So why not just... “Come work at the Prophet in secret,” she finished the thought aloud. 

[thelovejournals]

I like you; your eyes are full of language.

Anne Sexton, “Letter to Anne Clarke”, (1967)

[ripleyskeeter]

Thomas Ness working up a sweat after being dragged to the gym

Taken by an impressed Ripley Skeeter ( circa Summer 2025 )

[roseydoux]

[ripleyskeeter]

@tomness

[scarletttleitholdd]

[ripleyskeeter]

Ripley Skeeter passed out on Tom’s bed

Taken by Thomas Ness, who was too afraid of waking her to move her ( circa Summer 2025 )

[ripleyskeeter]

A sleeping Thomas Ness

Taken by Ripley Skeeter after she brought him breakfast in bed  ( circa Summer 2025 )

[ripleyskeeter]

tomness:

Thomas grabbed his laptop and slipped it into his bag for good measure. He knew the narrative wasn’t terrible, something that was having such a physical toll on him could not be that terrible, but he would never let anyone read it if it wasn’t set to be published. “I can’t. I would, believe me, Rip. But I can’t,” he had not even told anyone the basic storyline. “My publisher says it needs work, so until it no longer needs work, my lips are locked.”

”Okay.” Ripley tilted her chin up to press a kiss to the underside of his jawline, then shifted to press one against his lips. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to try and be patient. Not always my strong suit, but for you I can put in the effort.” She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, head laying on his shoulder as she held him close. “Have you talked to your parents about letting you work at the Prophet? I know it didn’t go well last time, but maybe they just needed time to think about it...”