#bdrproscoe

@roscoesykes​

Selling drugs in a teeny tiny English town was easier than Shock thought it would be, honestly. People were absolutely thirsty for something to do. She had imagined a bunch of posh fuckers, but she had to hand it to Wade--he’d chosen a good spot to set up shop. Half the town was college kids bored out of their fucking minds. 

When the town wasn’t going topsy turvy, they were looking for a way to go topsy turvy themselves. 

And Shock was more than willing to help out. 

She’d just made a pretty good sale to a couple of boys that’d she’d met at a party a few weeks back. Leaning against the wall in an alley on the west side of town, just ‘round the corner from the cathedral, she counted her money with a satisfied little smirk, a cigarette hanging from the corner of her lips.

When she heard footsteps scuffing the sidewalk coming towards her, she casually pocketed her money, patting at the baggies still in her pockets. At first, she thought it was her next customer, but when he got closer, she realized she didn’t know him. Shock glanced at the retreating backs of her last customers, wondering how much he saw. 

Not that Shock was ever worried. Instead, she just smirked at him a little. 

“Creepin’ around alleys sure is suspicious,” she quipped at him. “Someone might think you’re up to somethin’.” 

Rita: ROSCOE

Rita: This is a 911 look at your goddamn phone

Rita: JESUS

Even though it was the morning, Ethel, Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team that proudly kicked Slytherin’s butt, was actually functioning. Her head was pounding and she needed some gulps of water, but functioning nonetheless. While this wasn’t exactly a strange occurrence for the Claw house, to her it was phenomenal. 

There was still a bit of time before breakfast, so she took a nice walk while going over her schedule for the day when she caught sight of none other than Roscoe himself. She must have wandered down some stairs while walking. Grinning, she went up to him before slinging an arm around him.

“So...how was your party last night? You guys still in mourning?” she asked teasingly.

Every once in awhile Roscoe noticed Rita getting overwhelmed. It wasn’t something she was truly proud of honestly. In her mind she needed to be able to do it all without help or needing it. It didn’t matter that the parenting books said that having help was okay or that even Roscoe said it. Roscoe was busy keeping the Court running, Ollie was working on getting ready for school again, and Aubrey didn’t need to be at Rita’s beck and call she had her own family to deal with. 

But when it got real bad, when Roscoe came home to find Rita a frantic mess and seconds away from crying, he sent her out. Almost every time she ended up with Aubrey. 

As it was, it was Aubrey that had taken her into London for the day while Roscoe watched Mason. They’d had lunch and walked around the various shoppes and generally had a good time. For the afternoon Rita hadn’t felt overwhelmed or out of her depth. She’d felt light and had joked and laughed and not felt bad as she spent money on herself (and of course the three boys at home). Her arms were laden with bags, things she’d seen and liked and thought would be enjoyed, when she’d stopped in front of another store. Her eyes zeroed in on a jacket and she told Aubrey she’d be out in just a minute before slipping inside.

When she finally made it home, feeling so much lighter than when she’d left, she placed the bags just inside the door and wondered where exactly the pups were and why the house was quiet. Tugging the zipper of the jacket down, Rita moved through the house, finally hearing the low hum of the television in the den. “Hey yous,” she smiled as she leaned against the door frame.

Rita: [pic of Grayson and Cocoa peaking into Mason’s bassinet]

Rita: [https://i.ytimg.com/vi/rSGverfYdz4/hqdefault.jpg]

Rita: Look at your attack dog

It was official. Rita was nesting. It happened in spurts. A few minutes of cleaning here, a few more minutes resting. A little bit later she’d be fastening child safety locks to cabinets and doorways (better to get the practice with them in now rather than struggle once the baby was born), then she’d move to the nursery to put the finishing touches on the room.

There really wasn’t much time to wait. Only a few more weeks and her baby girl would be in her arms. 

She’d taken a break (again) in the rocker that her and Roscoe gotten and was reading quietly to their little angel when she heard the door open. Rather than getting up, she simply looked up before going back to the children’s book she’d been reading. “In the nursery,” she called out before rubbing her stomach slowly, grunting softly as her ballerina kicked.