#It looks like a Bonneville too

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hii, I love your writing and how you portray the characters. You can just ignore this if you want(i alr tried this once, so pls just ignore this if it's annoying😭)

But I was wondering if you could write a Male reader who works in the BAU and has a motorcycle he's obsessed with, or something like that?

(Thank you sm if you do actually write this🙏)

Also, can I be 🎸 -anon?(if it's available?)

Don't worry it didn't annoy me whatsoever, I've just got quite a few asks at the minute (70) so I don't always see things straight away! 🎸is still available (it's on the anon list but that's from your previous ask - also generally speaking if I ever miss out an anon please let me know).

I don't know how this fic came about it just did... lol

Also I'm combing this with your previous ask too since it's the same vibe :) Hope you enjoy!

(Previous ask: Hey, I love your fics so much, and you can ignore my ask if you want. But I was just wondering if you could do a Male reader with a motorcycle? Like, reader takes really good care of his motorcycle, or nobody knows that reader owns a motorcycle? It just seems really cool and it's been in the back of my mind, and you write really well.)

Warnings: pregnant jj because I've realised I've never mentioned her pregnant before, childbirth, labour (not onscreen)

Your car had broken down. Usually, you’ve drive to work, bright and breezy and be sat at your desk at 7am, cup of coffee in hand, exchanging longing glances to your girlfriend (JJ), and listening to Reid’s latest fact. Today, however, not so much. 

You got into your car and turned the key. It came to slowly, groaning as it did. You didn’t even make it out of your driveway before the engine cut. You groaned, grabbing your bag and going back inside the house. You put on the necessary gear, helmet included, and grabbed your bag once more. 

Throwing the bag in your under seat storage, you hopped on, engine quickly roaring to life before you were racing down the road. 

Strangely enough, everyone was running late. And so, as you pulled up to work, the team were all catching up outside and about to walk in. 

JJ sighed, seeing the bike pull in. She always worried about you when you rode. She placed a hand on her upper stomach, the action soothing. The last thing she needed was the father of her child getting into a motorcycle accident on his way to work.

Morgan gave a low whistle, seeing the motorbike. A full black Triumph Bonneville T100, a classic, a beauty. 

“Holy shit,” Morgan grinned, “You ride this thing?”

“No, I actually walked to work next to it the entire journey.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No need to be snarky,” He snorted.

“Sorry, no coffee this morning,” You replied, JJ nodded in understanding, hand placed on the bump on her stomach. 

“Babe, you told me you wouldn’t ride to work- ah!” JJ cut herself off with a short inhale.

“JJ?” You asked softly. “You good?”

“I think my water just broke.” JJ said said, taking another breath.

“Oh, okay, that’s fine- wait, what?” You asked, face paling. “But you’re not due for another two weeks-”

“Does this look like the face of someone who doesn’t know that?” She snapped. 

You looked around helplessly for a second. “You know what would get you to the hospital fast-?” You said, motioning to your motorcycle.

“I’m not getting on that death trap, go get my car.”

You give a small nod, “Yes Ma’am.” 

Morgan gave a laugh, “Day trip to the hospital, I guess.” 

“Aunty Penny is ready!” Garcia exclaimed holding up two bags.

“What- where did you even get that?”

“I knew you would have an absolutely flap over this, so I decided to be prepared.” She grinned. “Now go get the car.”

“Right, right. Car.” You nodded. “Keys. Keys?”

“Keys.” Garcia said, handing them over. With that you ran off to get JJ’s car. 

[daryldixon4564]

Through The Ruins.

My Wattpad: Kaasuienbroodje.

More chapters are coming soon on Wattpad. This is my first fanfic and first post on Tumblr, so any tips or corrections are appreciated.

Description:

The world ended before you could say goodbye.

Before the outbreak, you were a Sergeant in the Army-a leader among your fellow soldiers, tough, strong, and always focused on the mission. But when the turn came, you were deployed overseas, far from home, and when the world fell apart you lost everything. Friends, family… and Daryl Dixon.

The turn changed everything. But maybe… just maybe, it's not too late to find each other again.

Chapter one.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Last Goodbye.

The sound of metal scraping against metal fills the air as you and Daryl, your best friend since high school, work on your bikes. Daryl on his Honda CB750 Nighthawk and you on your  old Triumph Bonneville your father passed onto you. 

(Daryl's POV.) 

I tighten the bolt on my bike, the wrench gripped tightly in my calloused hand. I glance over at you, silently watching you work on that same damn bike you've been working on since your father passed it onto you when he died thirteen years ago. You're being unusually quiet, the usual teasing, jokes, and talking now gone.  I don't need to ask. I can feel it-- something's off today. The way you're silently working on your bike, no teasing or sarcastic comments, something's bothering you. You're treating the Triumph like it's fragile, like it might break if you touch it the wrong way, carefully handling the scratched surface. That bike's seen it all-- hell, it's probably outlasted more than either of us. But today you're treating it like something else.. Like it's holding you together. I don't like seeing you like this-- Silent, distant. It makes me worry. I want to ask you what's wrong, what it is that's bothering you. But I know you well enough. You'll just brush it off, like you always do. I look back at my bike, silently wondering about what could be bothering you. We continue to work on our bikes for a while. It's when I catch you staring off into the distance when I can't take it anymore. I put down my wrench and finally decide to ask you.

"hey.. Ya good?" I see you glance at me for a second before quickly looking back down at your bike, like you're avoiding telling me something, and that makes my chest tighten with worry.  "..Yeah, I'm okay," you mutter, brushing it off like I knew you would do.

I sigh, nodding silently like that's supposed make everything okay. I can't shake the feeling something's wrong. Very wrong. I pick up my wrench, trying to distract myself by working on my bike again, reluctantly keeping quiet. But the quiet between us feels too heavy, and I know you're not telling me something. I don't like it. At all. I don't like it when something's bothering you and you won't let me help. That means it's something bad. Something I can't fix. The thought terrifies me.

(Y/N's POV.)

I hear Daryl sigh and feel guilty for lying to him. I know he's worried, and that he just wants everything to be okay.

I wish it was.

I don't want to tell him I'm leaving for another tour, hell, I don't want to leave him at all. I don't want to go back to the war, the violence, the chaos. 

I can still hear the gunfire in my dreams, the crackling of radios, the quiet screams of men who never got to go home. Never got to see their families again. My last tour was a nightmare. Every single second of it. 

The thought of leaving again fills me with dread, a familiar knot tightening in my stomach. I've never been good at saying goodbye, especially not to Daryl. I don't want to leave him again, not after everything we've been through.. But I have no choice. I signed up for this.

I feel my eyes starting to burn, tears threatening to spill. I grab the wrench and start working on my bike again, trying to hide my emotions from Daryl, but he notices. Of course he does.

I can feel his eyes on me as I try to keep the tears from falling, studying me, worrying.

eventually he says in a soft and hesitant voice: "..Hey, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything."

That's what breaks me. The tears I've been trying so hard to hold back finally spill. 

I whisper through the tears,  choking back a sob:  "..Daryl.. I'm leaving for another tour.."

(Daryl's POV.) 

I  hear your words and my heart sinks to my feet. Leaving. Again. my whole body tenses. No. not again.

I remember how you came back from your last tour-- broken, traumatised, waking up screaming in the middle of the night, the way you'd stare off into the distance, lost in thought.

In just a few seconds, multiple emotions rush through me-- shock, sadness, gut-twisting fear of losing the only person I give a shit about besides Merle. Then comes the anger.

After a few seconds of staring at you in silence I finally speak up.

"What?"

My voice is rough, filled with disbelief and anger, but I can't hide the faint trace of vulnerability, fear and sadness in it. 

"Why? After everything you've been through last time. Why go back?" 

Your voice is shaky and soft from crying when you say: "..Daryl, you don't understand-"

I cut you off. "Naw. I understand just fine." I drop the wrench I was still holding and stand up, my hands shaking with the urge to just grab you and hold you. To never let you go ever again. My heart is feeling like it has just been shattered. "You're goin' to get yourself killed out there, and when ya do, don't expect me to give a damn." 

The second the words leave my mouth I regret them, but I can't show that. I can see the hurt and sadness in your eyes, the shaking of your hands, and I want to punch my dumbass for not keeping my big mouth shut.

I turn and walk away before I can say anything else. My chest feels like it's being crushed under the weight of everything I just said, and all I want to do is take it all back—hold you, tell you I'm scared, that I don't want to lose you. But I can't. I don't know how.

I can hear you break down behind me, and it takes everything I have to hold myself back from running to you and holding you in my arms like I used to do when we were kids. I've never liked hearing you cry.

I walk home, trying to keep myself from breaking something. Why would you go back? After everything you've been through last time? Who knows in what state you'll be coming back this time, if you even live long enough to come back.

I almost pass my house as I walk, lost in thought. I enter, and the last person I want to see right now is standing right there.

Merle.  

He's leaning against the wall, holding an almost empty bottle of beer in his hand. He smirks when he sees me. 

"Ya look like you just stepped outta funeral, man. What happened, did someone steal yer bike?" he says in a mocking voice with a grin. 

I shoot him a glare, but he just laughs and takes a long swig of his beer. 

"shut up, Merle. ain't your business." I mutter, my fist clenched tight. I want to keep walking, pretend like he isn't here. Like everything's okay.

Merle smirks and raises his eyebrows, his smug grin widening. Must be somethin' real serious if it's got ya all twisted up like this. I ain't seen you this worked up since.. well, ever." He says before taking another lazy swig from his bottle.

I scoff, raising my voice slightly. "I said, ain't your business."

Merle's smirk widens and he pushes himself off of the wall, "it's that girl, ain't it? that pretty soldier? maybe she finally realized I'm the better Dixon-"

That's where I lose my patience. I cut him off, taking a step closer to him, my voice low and tense. "I said it before and I'm goin' to say it again,  you stay the fuck away from her."   

I can't stand Merle talking-- or even thinking about you like that. I'll always protect you, always have. No matter how much of a pain in the ass you were. 

"..She's goin' on another tour." I eventually mutter. 

Merle's face changes, but I look away before he can see what I'm feeling. Can't let him know I'm scared—he'd just see it as weakness. I know him too well for that. Instead, I grip my fists tighter and keep my eyes somewhere past his shoulder, fighting to push down the thought that if you don't come back this time, I will lose the last person that ever mattered.

Merle doesn't say anything, finally shutting up for once in his life. I grab my crossbow and walk out the backdoor. As I grab my crossbow, I feel a deep ache twisting in my chest. This isn't just anger. It's the fear of losing the one person I still have left.

 I don't know where I'm going, I just need to be away. Away from Merle, away from Y/N, away from the fear. Away from everything. 

(Y/N's POV.)

I watch Daryl walk away, tears streaming down my cheeks as his words echo in my head. 'You're goin' to get yourself killed out there, and when ya do, don't expect me to give a damn.' 

I've never been one for crying or showing emotions, but damn, that stings. But I don't blame him for saying it. I want to run after him, grab his arm, tell him I'm sorry and that I'm scared too. But I know better. 

I just sit there, silently crying and staring in the direction Daryl went in, hoping he'll come back. But he doesn't. 

After twenty minutes I finally manage to get my tears under control. I wipe them away with my sleeve and stand up. I walk to my house. I silently unlock the door and step inside.  

Back at home, I close the door behind me, leaning my head against the frame for a moment, my eyes shut as I just try to breathe. The house feels empty, like it knows I'm leaving too.

a few days later, the night before you leave. 

(Daryl's POV)

The sun has been down for hours, but I haven't been able to close my eyes for more than a minute. I'm lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything. Thinking about you. No matter how hard I try to shut it out, the thought of you leaving keeps pushing its way back in. I can't help it—the idea of you out there again makes my chest feel like it's wrapped in barbed wire.

Your last tour damn near broke you, and I thought I'd lost you for good back then. And now, you're heading back to that hell all over again.

 Sitting alone in that damn room, it hits me—if I don't see you before you leave, I'll hate myself for it. So I grab my jacket and head out, praying I'm not too late.

I get to your place and see the lights still on. I step towards the door, hesitating. A part of me wants to turn back, prtend that none of this matters. But it does. More than I care to admit.

After a few moments of just silently staring at your door, hesitating, I finally knock. I wait, feeling like a damn idiot. I'm about to knock again when the door finally opens, and I see you. You look like you haven't slept in days either. I know you're trying to hide it, but I can see the look of fear in your eyes.

You stare at me with a suprised look. "..What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep." I clear my throat, glancing down, then back up, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. "..Ya gonna be okay over there?"

"..Yeah. I'll be okay." You reply, and I hope you're tellig the truth. The though of losing you.. It breaks me.

You see the fear in my eyes, "..Hey, I promise I'll come back to you." You say in a soft but determinated voice. You take my hand and squeeze it, as if to say: 'I promise.'

Your hand is warm, steady, grounding me even though I feel like I'm falling apart inside.

I look down at our hands, not knowing what to say or do. Finally, I pull you into a tight hug. As I pull you into a hug, it's like I'm holding onto the last good thing I have. "..You better come back to me. I'll kick your ass if you die."

I hear you chuckle slightly as you wrap your arms tightly around me, "I'll have to come back now, I wouldn't want to get my ass kicked." You tease lightly.'

I smile slightly at your light tease, but hide it by burying my face in your hair. I hold you for a few more minutes, knowing damn well this might be the last time I'll ever see you again.

 After about five minutes I pull away, though I keep my hands on your shoulders, not wanting to let go of you just yet. I stare into your eyes, holding back the urge to lock you up and keep you safe, to never let you out of my sight. Ever. But I know I can't.

"..I guess I should let you get some sleep, huh?" I eventually mutter. 

I see you nod a little, "I guess so.. goodbye, Daryl."

I reluctantly take my hands off your shoulders, but not before giving them a small squeeze, "..goodbye."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[violetthistle1]

Excerpt 5 from Singing in the Dead of Night by Violet_Thistle on Ao3.

Remus handed him one more smaller box. 

“Another one?” 

“This one is more of a return of something that’s already yours.” 

Sirius opened it up and found a key, which looked oddly familiar. “Is this…” 

“I had Hagrid fly it over all the way from Britain.” 

“My old Motorcycle?” Sirius exclaimed in astonishment. “It’s still around?” 

“Yeah, I figured it was time you got it back, and Hagrid agreed. He couldn’t stay though, had to make it back to Hogwarts.” 

Sirius laughed, “He’s been taking care of it?”

Remus laughed too. “Yeah, but he did have some help getting an enlargement charm on it though. I think it should be reversible…” 

Sirius laughed again. “A giant motorcycle? I’ll have to give it a go before I shrink it back down, that sounds like a blast! Why didn’t I ever think of that?” He laughed again. “Is it outside?” 

“Yeah, you wanna see it now?” 

“I’ve wanted to see it every day since I was captured,” Sirius admitted. 

“Well, then let's not waste any more time.” He led the way out to the driveway and Sirius followed. There in the light cast from the porchlight was visible a giant cherry red 1959 Triumph 650 T 120 Bonneville.

Sirius ran over to it and climbed atop trying his best to start the engine, but he couldn’t quite reach the foot shifter. “Oh, damn it! That’s a real shame, I’ll have to shrink it down to ride it!” 

Tonks ran out to help him troubleshoot. “What if you just shrink it down halfway? Just enough so you can still reach?” 

“Yeah, that may work.” 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60195556

[breaniebree]

Still not sure when it will be posted but hopefully by the end of March!

Here's a sneak peek to show you what I have planned...

Chapter One of Third Time's the Charm

The One With A Second Chance

Queen blared from the speakers as Sirius hummed along with the beat of Radio Gaga.  He smiled as James began to hum under his breath next to him, shaking his hips to the beat.  When he started to move his head and fist pump the air as he quite frankly, jammed out, Sirius stifled a laugh.  When he began to sing along, Sirius couldn’t help but smile at his friend.  He wiggled his own hips along, knocking them against James’ as they grinned widely at each other.  

By the time the second verse started, James was singing loudly and powerfully, his smooth voice echoing in the workshop around them.

“Let’s hope you never leave, old friend.  Like all good things, on you we depend.  So stick around, ‘cause we might miss you, when we grow tired, of all this visual.  You had your time, you had the power!  You’ve yet to have your finest hour, radio!  Radio!”  James sang.  

When he caught Sirius’ eye, he grabbed the wrench like a microphone and began to really sing as he clapped his hands together.  

“All we hear is radio ga ga!  Radio goo goo!  Radio ga ga!  Sing it, mate!  All we hear is radio ga ga!  Radio goo goo!  Radio ga ga!  All we hear is radio ga ga!  Radio blah blah!  Radio, what’s new?  Some-one still loves you!”  

Sirius snorted.  “Do they now?”

James shrugged.  “Well, I mean, there has to be at least one person who loves you, Padfoot.  No one I know, obviously…”

“Piss off,” Sirius said, biting back a laugh.

James reached a hand up to scratch his cheek and spread engine grease all over his face.  

Sirius shook his head.  “You’re hopeless, Prongs.”

James attempted to wipe it off, but instead only smeared it even worse.  “I don’t even understand how this shit gets everywhere!”  When he only succeeded in blackening himself more, he pouted.  “Help me!”  he whined.

Sirius chuckled and reached for a cloth, moving to stand in front of his best mate and brother to scrub his face clean.  “There.  Hopeless.”

“I’m not hopeless, I’m just not good with the whole machine thing.  That’s a wheel, right?”

“Smart arse,” Sirius said, throwing the towel at him.  “If you can’t honour the bike, get out of the workshop.”

James chuckled.  “That’s the moto-so-che bonneville harley, right?”

“I hate you.”

James grinned and passed his friend the wrench.  “Love you, too, brother.”

Marauder barked and ran in a circle around James as Lady Godiva merely lifted her head to watch the dog, looking very unimpressed with Marauder’s antics. 

They both looked up when someone came to the door and Fleamont stood there, a smile on his face.  

“Boys, getting up to trouble out here?”

“Never, Dad,” James said.

He chuckled.  “That’s what I thought.  Why don’t you come inside?  Fee and Lily have prepared a picnic for lunch.  Misha is joining us.”

“I hope Fee and the house elves made it,” Sirius said.  “If it was Evans, I might not want to risk it.”

“I heard that Sirius Black!”  Lily exclaimed, coming up behind Fleamont.  “That was one time and I was pregnant with your godson!”

“So you say,” he teased.  “I just remember you trying to poison me and Prongs forcing Moony and I to eat it.”

Lily shook her head in amusement before she moved towards Sirius to kiss his cheek.  She took James’ hand in hers.  “Well, come risk it if you dare.  Misha wants to talk to you anyway.”

James tugged on her hand to pull her up against him so that he could kiss his wife deeply.  “I love you, Lily.”

“I love you, too,” she said, grinning up at him with her heart in her eyes.

They kissed again and Sirius turned back towards his motorbike to give his friends a moment of privacy.

“I’ll meet you out there in a minute.  I just want to finish something first and you two can get the snogging out of your system in the meantime.”

“Never!”  James scoffed.  “Have you seen these lips?  They are the most perfect lips ever made!”

Lily squeezed her husband’s hand.  “The sad part is that he’s talking about his own lips.  Don’t be too long, Padfoot.”

James squeezed Sirius’ shoulder before wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist and leading her away from the bike.  Fleamont put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Don’t be too long, son.  You know Fee will want to feed you.”

Sirius nodded.  “I won’t, Monty.  Save me some of that treacle tart before Jamie eats it all.”

Fleamont chuckled.  “No promises.” 

Sirius grinned as he turned back to the bike.  He picked up the wrench, humming along to “Radio Gaga” as the music seemed to grow louder, rumbling in in his ears like the wireless was moving closer and closer to him.  Then, something flashed at his right.  He turned, his eyebrow furrowed in confusion as music blared in his ears.  He smelt her soap before he saw her and when she flashed again, covered in blood, his eyes widened.

“Zee!  What…?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice echoing as the music stopped around him.  “I tried to stop them.”

Sirius reached for her, but just as he touched her, his hand passed right through her.  Before he could contemplate the vision before him, something punched him right in the chest.  It hit him so hard that all of the breath was knocked out of him.  He felt like his chest was caved in and that every rib was broken and stabbing him somewhere different.  He gasped for breath, his eyes on Zee flashing in and out before him.

“Zee?  Zee, where are you?”  he demanded, but she flashed again and vanished before his eyes.

“Sirius?”  Euphemia asked from the doorway.  “Are you coming?”

“Fee…”  he whispered, blood bubbling at his mouth.

“Sirius?”  she called out, seeming to stare right through him.  “Darling, are you in here?”

Euphemia stepped right past him as if she couldn’t see him.  Sirius started to speak, unsuccessfully attempting to reach for her when suddenly, hands sprung out from the ground and tightly gripped him by his ankles.  He tried to shake them off, ventured to jump away, but the grip was too strong.  He reached for Euphemia again, his eyes wide before the hands around his ankles yanked.  His boots sank into the ground like quicksand and he was abruptly pulled into the earth.  The scream tore through him so loudly that it scorched his throat and Zee’s terrified face flashed before him.

“Zahira!” he cried out.  “Zahira!”

He was dragged through the mud; falling and rising like he was clawing his way to the surface, but the surface of what he didn’t know.  He swallowed the earth; dirt in his eyes, in his nose, in his mouth.  He could hear voices calling him and then there was nothing but the earth and the pain in his chest.

Pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before.  

Sharp, searing pain that made him taste his own blood.  

Pain like something was being ripped apart inside of him, something that he tried desperately to hold onto to, but no matter how hard he fought, the more it ripped and tore free.

And then there was only blackness.

~ TTTC ~

[nerdypanda3126]

The Triumph of Luka Couffaine

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Round Robin event! @trixxiephantomhive, @mrsmayday @rierse, and I took turns adding onto this story with "bike" and "just accept it" as our prompts. Also, go check out the art by Rierse, they did a fantastic job!!

Summary: Luka brings home a project that Marinette isn't entirely thrilled with, at least until he asks for her help.

Read on Ao3

Luka had a soft spot for outcasts. Marinette had known him for long enough that she'd noticed it was a quirk of his, and she loved it about him, even before they were together. Then when they had started dating, she'd learned to take it in stride when he brought home one-eyed goats and stray deaf dogs and other "projects" that "he couldn't just leave." 

But this had to be pushing it. 

"Luka." She tried not to scold, really she did. "What on earth is that supposed to be?" 

From where he was kneeling in front of what looked like a pile of twisted, rusted, metal junk, Luka grinned up at her from under his blue-tipped bangs. "My new bike. Great, right? And I got it for practically nothing. A few tweaks and she's golden." 

Golden would not have been the word she would've used. Did he not see the parts falling off and the missing pieces, and the rust? She was pretty sure that as far as motorized vehicles went, rust was a very bad thing. But if Luka did notice, he didn't seem to mind as he beamed at his prize.

She glanced at her own Vespa, which she'd kept well-maintained since it'd been given to her four years ago, and then back to the… "bike" Luka had bought. There was some resemblance, now that she was looking for it. There was a place for a seat, although the seat itself was long gone, and that ball of solid rust a little below it looked like it was meant to be an engine, and there were two axles and hubs where the wheels would go… 

"Well," Luka was saying, which brought her attention back to him. He was eyeing the bike more critically now, much like she had been. He wiped at his nose and it left a little smudge of dirt and grease behind that she had to admit was cute on him. It had no right bringing out the blue of his eyes like that. "Okay, so it needs a little more than tweaking. But the bones of this thing are rock solid. And underneath all of this is a Triumph Bonneville." 

"...A what?" 

"It's an old British brand, but super reliable. See the twin cylinders here?" He pointed to two rods on either side of what would be the seat, then grinned up at her again. "A classic Triumph, Marinette, can you imagine? Once I get it all fixed up it'll sing." 

She hummed in what she hoped was a noncommittal way. "How do you know all this stuff?" she asked instead of answering him. He stood and dusted his hands off on his ripped jeans, then dusted the seat of his pants off, too, which, even after all the years they'd known each other, was still just as distracting. Moreso, maybe, because now they were dating and she could look at him now with all the love and appreciation she felt for him. 

Luka shoved his hands in his back pockets as he smiled warmly at her, apparently thinking similar thoughts. "I picked up a few things, tinkering on my old bicycle down at the shop. I've always wanted a vintage motorcycle." 

"I didn't know that," she admitted. He chuckled back. 

"You never asked." 

A flush of heat crept across her cheeks as she realized he was right. "So… you know how to fix this, then?" She stepped forward into his space and put her hands in his back pockets, too, earning her a mischievous raised eyebrow. "Because I have to tell you… right now it's…" She dared a glance at him, then bit her lip as she winced. "It's really ugly." 

He laughed at that and wrapped his arms around her waist instead, holding her close to him. "Yeah, I know how to fix it." He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I hope you've got your tetanus shot," she muttered, only half-meaning for him to hear her. She blushed again when he let out another one of those laughs, bright and open and beautiful, and nodded. 

"Thanks for worrying about me," he said, adding, "I know you always do." 

At the same time, she said, "I always do." They both smiled at the jinx and Luka glanced back at the bike with a thoughtful look on his face. 

"I was hoping…" he started, pulling his gaze back to hers, "that maybe we could work on it… together?" 

Together. Marinette ran the math in her head. This was at least months' worth of work, if not a year or two, and he wanted to do this. With her. She couldn't help the smile that lit up her face as she nodded. "I'd love you—to!" 

She blushed as she realized her slip, and she knew Luka had noticed it because he always noticed everything, but he only smiled back, pleased, and pulled her into a tight hug before continuing to point out the features that his new bike would have. 

She had to admit she was getting excited with him. 

***

The next morning Luka woke up bright and early. His plan was to set up his tools for starting on the bike. 'I just need the solution, a screwdriver, a hammer, and a crowbar,' he thought to himself while waiting for Marinette to arrive. 

She showed up around 20 minutes after their planned time and began profusely apologizing and flailing about. 

"I'm so sorry, Luka. I know I promised I would try to get better at being on time, but I didn't get much sleep last night and—" 

Luka placed a hand on her face and pulled her into a hug as he quietly chuckled.“I love you, Marinette. Can we get started?”

She returned the laughter and nodded. “Yep! Not entirely sure what you want me to do, I can barely ride my Vespa, let alone repair it.”

He stepped to the side and started looking intently at the bike. “Well, today we’re going to take all the rusted parts and soak them in a solution to see what’s just surface rust and what needs to be replaced or welded,” Luka explained in a soft voice, fully understanding and not judging her lack of knowledge. 

“So… do we just put the whole thing in?” she asked almost jokingly, looking at his "bike"  loveable scrap heap.

“Pretty much. Except we have to take it apart because some things like the engine and brake wires need to be unhooked and replaced.” 

Marinette nodded and pulled out five large containers as he pointed to them. Luka carried the gallons of solution and they worked together to slowly pour it in. 

They moved on to the next part of the day, which was getting the outside pieces of the bike loose.

“Thanks for helping Mar—” he said in a strained voice, struggling to loosen a siding panel of the bike while Marinette was standing above him using a crowbar to unwedge it from the top.

“No problem! This is difficult, but it's fun to work with you!”

Luka smiled, and began to lose himself in her beautiful blue eyes that sparkled like the sun—until BANG! The piece came loose and sent Luka to the ground with it. Marinette burst into giggles as she helped him up, and Luka squeaked out a quiet, "Ow—"

Luka knew at that moment that it wasn't going to be the only time an incident would send one of them into giggles. 

A few days later and just a day after the soaking had finished, Marinette jokingly pointed the sandblaster Luka was renting at him. He screamed and jumped to the ground, knowing if she hit the on switch it would hurt. 'The device was made for smoothing down the bike, not him.' She didn't actually turn it on, but Luka was still planning his revenge.

A revenge which came into play a few days later, when they'd finally gotten to the point of washing the metal sides of the bike to put them away and start on the next part of rebuilding the bike.

The couple filled up the soapy buckets and pulled out their sponges. They were old ones that Luka stole from the kitchen, one bright green with a sunglasses print, and the other red and black striped.

"There was a sale on decorative sponges a while back," Luka explained to a giggling Marinette. 

Not too long after the buckets were full and Luka was starting to rinse the bike, he smirked and whipped around, aiming the water stream straight at Marinette, causing her to scream and start laughing. 

"COLD! COLD! Luka, that's cold!"

***

Luka laughed and dropped the sprayer innocently to his side. "Truce?"

Marinette pouted and didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to her mouth. "Truce," she agreed reluctantly.

"Great, now let's sort through the cleaned up pieces and take inventory of what we need. Can you help write things down as I count them off?" he asked with his hands held up in a pleading gesture. 

She knew he struggled to read his own writing at times and smiled. "Of course."

So they set about sorting through what they'd done so far. Some pieces were okay after a soak and quick clean up, which had shocked her. She was sure this was more scrap than salvage, but he had been right, there was a lot about this bike that was still quite solid.

They made a list of pieces that needed more work to be functional, and a list for the pieces that were missing or completely beyond redemption. Both lists were… not short. Luka eyed the final count critically but nodded in approval. "Honestly? This isn't that bad. It might take some time to track down some of these things, or afford some of them, but I have some ideas on that front."

Marinette watched with adoration as he spoke passionately and excitedly about restoration projects and how there were whole groups of people who picked these kinds of old vehicles up to try to make them look good again. He talked about auction sites where vintage or restoration pieces could be gotten fairly cheap through bidding or at special events. 

"I might even be able to get an in with some of the people I used to know from around the shop. So what do you think?" Luka looked at her expectantly, still enthusiastic and joyful.

She gave him a quick kiss. "I think you're amazing being able to see the beauty in this thing. I think this sounds like a lot of fun and I'm learning a lot. I'm so happy you asked me to help."

He beamed at her and suggested she change into dry clothes so they could go pick up some things. She pointed out that it was his fault she even needed to change but he didn't seem the least bit sorry. She rolled her eyes and went inside.

When she came back out in one of his shirts, his gaze lingered and she felt her face heat under his attention. "Well, where to? Do we take your truck or do you want to ride the Vespa?"

He laughed. "We probably need the truck, we don't want to carry that much on the scooter."

They took off for an automotive store and happily sang to the radio together, both passionately belting out the lyrics. Marinette found herself basking in the moment, warm and full of love.

When they arrived, Luka opened the door for her and took her hand to help her out but didn't let go as they walked in together.

Luka led her around the store excitedly, grabbing different things they needed for the next steps in restoring the bike. He asked her opinions or answered her questions where she chimed in.

"We might pick up paint if it's on sale. It'll be one of the last steps in putting the bike together but we can look." He smiled as her eyes lit up at the prospect of something more artistic to look at.

Marinette had been captivated by the different options for color and design. When she had found the metal flakes and pearl options, Luka had been reminded of Rose in the glitter section at the craft store. Marinette ended up grabbing a variety of swatches and samples to play around with colors and effects.

In addition to her samples, they ended up picking up polish, wax, sealant, some more solution, and a few smaller things that would help get the pieces they did have better assembled while they tracked down the bigger parts.

When they got back to his place, they set some of the stuff in the garage for later and went about replacing the few valves, screws, and wires they picked up. Doing that fastened different parts of the bike together or allowed them to make sure everything had a proper seal and connection.

"So this is a 1964, not the peak of the Bonneville bikes but still a really good model. We'll need to make sure we look at the right year when we're searching for parts since they aren't always interchangeable, though some might be." He pulled up some of the sites he was talking about before to show her some of the visual differences and why different models needed slightly different parts. 

Marinette was feeling pretty excited herself by the time the day ended and she said goodbye. While she rode home, she felt the familiar buzz of inspiration and decided she needed to do something with the energy.

The moment she got home and settled, she had her sketchbook in hand. As she sketched a few different stray thoughts, she had another idea. She pulled out her phone and clicked on a contact.

"Hey, Nona. Yeah, I'm great, thank you. Hey, do you know anything about Triumph Bonnevilles?" 

She smiled as her grandmother started off on an excited tangent. Maybe she could help get some more traction for finding the remaining parts, too. She was excited to run the idea by Luka and watch his face light up. If she could do something to make him happy and excited, it would only be fair.

***

Over the next couple months, they managed to fix up almost all of the remaining parts they had, and had even purchased several of the missing pieces. It was coming together nicely and it had been a great bonding project for them.

They were in the garage, Luka tinkering on the bike, Marinette sketching in her design book, when Luka asked, "Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?"

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Yeah, passenger at least. I've ridden with my Nona often enough. Why?"

Luka nodded "Good. I'm just thinking about the first ride on this thing."

"It's… not roadworthy? It's missing the seat and the tires still," she pointed out.

Luka gave her a secretive little smile and hummed noncommittally.

"Did you find them? Luka, is the bike almost done?" Marinette pressed, suddenly very eager to get an answer.

He just flashed that lazy boyish smile and leaned over to give her a quick peck. He could be awfully irritating when he wanted to be.

"Oh come on!" She grabbed his face in her hands and gave him a look but found herself losing her train of thought when he looked at her that softly.

"I might have a lead. We're getting close." He was speaking quietly, staring into her eyes like he was as lost as she was.

They were interrupted by the very loud ringing of her phone and Marinette sighed. She looked at the caller ID. Luka leaned over to see who had disrupted the moment. "Oh, Gina. Go ahead and answer her, tell her thank you for the last tip she gave me, it panned out really well." He waved his hand to shoo her to answer.

"Hey, Nona, what's up?" Marinette asked when she answered.

"Marinette, my fairy, how are you? How is your sweet blue boy?" Gina asked with affection.

"We're great. He said to thank you for the last tip you gave him, I guess whatever it was is going good so far."

"Ah! Marvelous! Benissimo! I knew my dear friend was reliable," Gina exclaimed.

Marinette smiled. "Did you need something? Are you calling for an update or is this a social call?"

***

Luka smiled as he worked, enjoying the sound of his girlfriend's animated voice as she chatted with her Nona. Gina had been an excellent reference for the project. And Marinette had been more enthusiastic than he'd anticipated, he really just wanted to spend time with her, working on something creative together, a project that could be both of theirs. She had design and he had music, but this would be theirs. 

“Really?” Luka looked up as Marinette’s background chatter grew more enthusiastic, “Thank you SO much Nona! That will be perfect! Talk to you later, love you!”

“Good news?” he asked.

“Very, can I take the seat base and padding home today? I need to get precise measurements for the cover.”

“Sure, of course, I’ll help you get them home. Do I get to see the plan?”

Marinette smiled mischievously at him. “Hmmm, not just yet… unless you’re willing to share your news?”

Luka smiled patiently. “I can wait.” The tires Gina had helped him locate were perfect; she had a contact with access to vintage surplus—he had scored a near perfect match that had never been used.

“Hmpf. Of course you can.”

“C’mere.” He grinned at her little pout; they both knew he was far more patient than she was—she could keep a secret, though, even when she wanted to share. He had no doubt that whatever she was planning would be perfect.

Marinette hop-skipped over the parts lined up on the ground until she reached him and he pulled her into his lap. “I think this next bit is gonna need a little luck.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Where do you plan on getting that?”

“I was kinda hoping you could spare a little.” He bopped her gently on the nose then let his finger trail to her lips. He swallowed hard as she kissed his fingertip.

“I think I could manage a little.” Her eyes danced as she leaned in for a kiss. Best project ever.

***

It was gorgeous. Marinette ran her hand over the material that had arrived in the mail while she was out. Nona had found just the leather she wanted and expressed it over from Italy. It was supple, yet very durable—and the colors were perfect. Deep black, antique white, cerulean blue, and a perfect "Sass" green, ironically called "Serpente Nell’erba" or "Snake in the Grass." She had been determined to keep the retro feel of the bike while giving it a little more personality. She hoped to find a way to showcase the depth of character she saw in Luka in the colors and lines of the bike. Nona had approved of her design and she couldn’t wait to see it in reality. Marinette stopped short as she pulled the last of the leather from the box, there was something more. She grinned at the note, Stay safe my Fairy, and have fun! ~Nona, on top of something black and bulky. It was a riding jacket. Black with hot pink accents, and it fit perfectly. She took a quick selfie and sent a thank you text along with the photo to Nona Gina. 

Marinette glanced at the seat frame in the corner and shrugged off the jacket. The frame had been sanded, cleaned, and painted, though it still needed a clear coat along with everything else, but it was ready enough to get her started. Getting the seat back to her place had been a little tricky; she and Luka had been reduced to gales of laughter as they tried out different configurations to get both of them and the seat and padding on her moped, and had finally found a functional, if awkward, arrangement that required her to drive rather slowly, but they had managed it. Now she had work to do.

***

They were getting close. Luka surveyed all the parts. Once the clear coat went on, it would be a matter of final assembly and fine tuning. Marinette had loved the painting side of things and had gotten really good with the automotive sprayer. The colors she had helped him choose were gorgeous and while the vibrancy was certainly more modern than the browns and tans of the '60s, the overall design looked good on the vintage bike. She had shooed him out of the tent, insisting that she wanted to paint the clear coat on the tank herself. He knew she was planning something, he just didn’t know what. It was the final piece to be clear-coated and he was trying to remember that he was the patient one. He worked at polishing and assembling everything that was ready. Reassembling all the spokes for the wheels was time-consuming and a little tedious. Marinette had gotten it into her head to create a pattern with the spokes, some classic chrome and some a glossy black—it was going to look amazing in motion, but was nearly akin to torture to get them all into the correct pattern. 

The flap of their makeshift spray tent flipped open and Marinette exited with a glowing smile. “It’s amazing how much a difference the clear gloss makes!” she announced excitedly. “Want some help with the spokes?” 

“Sure, Melody, this pattern is making me a little dizzy.” She dropped to the ground next to him and started laying them out in order so he could just grab and install. Huh, he should have thought about laying them out first. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah, we do.” She nudged her shoulder into his arm with a grin and set to work.

They hummed as they worked, enjoying the time together while focusing on the task. And if their hands brushed and lingered as she handed him spokes, well, so much the better. He liked this, one goal between them. Even as they used their individual talents for different aspects of the project, it was thrilling to see it all come together cohesively.

***

Marinette tried to stay calm as she worked on the spokes. Luka was too observant to not know she was up to something, but she was trying her best to remain calm. They still had to assemble all the parts, it wasn’t as if she could keep it a secret till the end or anything, but she did want the glossy finish to dry so he could see the decal as it was meant to be. She had worked hard on the design, and searched all over to find a shop that could print it on the right material for an automotive decal. In the end the work was well worth it. She had gotten the decals to go on smoothly without any bumps or bubbles, despite how nervous she’d been of messing it up at the last minute. The decal featured a green cobra, perfectly matched to the leather on the seat, coiled around a branch of sakura blossoms and rearing as if it was about to strike, fangs bared. The blossoms were pretty, but the snake had just the right vintage flavor to pull the whole thing together. She was pretty sure Luka would love it. She hoped he would at least. 

The wheels were done, the spoke pattern was mesmerizing, and everything that could be put together before the tank went on was ready.

“Can I see what you’ve done now, Marinette?”

“Yes! Of course. Let me just make sure it's dry…”

“It's been hours, I'm sure it's ready.”

“Okay, okay…” Luka grabbed at her hand as she fidgeted nervously.

“I know I’ll love whatever you’ve done, I trust you, can you trust me?”

She stilled. He was right, her nervousness suggested she was worried about his reaction and of course she trusted him to be both honest and appreciative of her work. She relaxed and tugged him towards the tent. “Yeah, come see.”

They flipped the flap open, pinning it back to let in the light and stepped inside. “Oh wow, Marinette, this is incredible!” She bounced, biting her lip as he traced the coiled snake and tapped the blossoms gently. “It needed this, a little piece of us visible. Mari, I love it.” She squealed and threw herself into his arms for a hug, trying not to knock anything to the ground. He caught her in his arms and took a step or two away from the finished tank before spinning her around in a triumphant embrace.

He loved it. She knew he would, but it was good to hear. The hug was nice, too.

***

Marinette stood waiting in front of the bakery. She could feel it, today was the day! Her jacket was stowed in her Vespa and she had wrapped the seat—she had struggled with some of the seams, but was happy with the final result.

“Hey, Marinette, let me take that.” She handed over the awkwardly wrapped bundle—the finished seat—as Luka joined her at the bakery. Maman and Papa fussed over them a bit as they arranged themselves on her moped with the seat. It wasn’t quite so awkward now that it was all one piece, and they were soon off. 

Marinette gushed over the work he’d done after she left the night before and he was beyond thrilled when he unwrapped the seat. He was amazed at the quality of the leather, and the design was elegant and playful. “Marinette, you are a wonder.” She blushed furiously at his praise and pecked his cheek before nudging him to attach the seat to the bike. Once the seat was on, it was down to the last details, and those were quickly accomplished. 

“I learned so much, Luka, I might be able to handle my own repairs on the moped if I ever needed them now,” she said as they attached the last bolt and adjusted the mirrors.

***

Luka was flabbergasted at how quickly it all fell into place. Marinette was rubbing a clean cloth over the chrome to make it shine and it looked amazing. Her grasp of design and color was fully evident once the machine was put together. He might have eventually finished the bike on his own, but there was no way it would have looked nearly this good without the creative eye and dedication of his girlfriend.

He scanned the area for the next step, "Now we just need…" and cocked his head in confusion when he didn’t see any more spare parts. Surely there was more to work on, right? He ran through his mental checklist as he fidgeted with the torque wrench in his hands.

Marinette laughed at his floundering. "It's done Luka, just accept it."

"Yeah, I guess it is." He was surprised to find that he was feeling a little sad about the end of their work together. The plan had been about the journey—more so even than the end result, as perfect as it was.

"Luka.” Marinette slid her hand into his and forced him to look at her. “This is the part where you tell me to hold on tight and we ride into the sunset." 

Well, that sounded pretty good. He glanced around. "It's barely noon."

"Guess it'll have to be a long ride then." She pulled something out of her moped and pulled on a form-fitting leather motorcycle jacket. Damn, she looked good.

Luka smiled, and grabbed her so he could steal a kiss. Well, he tried to steal one, but she wasn’t resisting, so he gleefully took the kiss she offered him instead. Maybe the end of the project wasn’t so bad after all. "Wanna go for a ride?"

“I’d love you—to! I’d love to, and I love you, Luka.” Music to his ears.

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “I love you, too, Marinette.”

His heart swelled as she climbed up behind him and he reveled in the feel of her holding tightly to him. Time to chase a sunset.

[mymanyfandomramblings]

Glee-cap: Episode 4x15--Girls (and Boys) On Film

The continuation of my first-time watch of Glee episodic recaps, featuring my live reactions.

Okay, Emma looks so cute in a suit with her hair done up and red lipstick. Old Hollywood styles always look stunning on her

Will meanwhile...I don't like his hair slicked back like that

"You're All The World To Me" seriously suits Jayma's voice so well. I didn't used to really like Emma's voice, but her songs in the last two episodes have been wonderful

"THE HOUSE IS UPSIDE DOWN" I don't know why I find that as funny as I do

Sugar's outfit is truly brilliant. Sugar is truly brilliant.

Sam and his impressions, my beloveds

Sue's rants. I have never felt so seen as I have with Sue, specifically and only because her sentences go on for so long and have innumerable themes, subjects and lists, broken up only with commas and semicolons

"Shout" is super fun, and I never would have guessed that Brittany's voice would sound so good with soul music. My one concern is in the 'little bit softer now' part it just sounds like they've...turned the volume down, not like Blaine's actually singing quieter. That aside, it's so fun.

Sugar lying on the table is hilarious

This is how I find out that Downton Abbey was around in 2013. Also Adam does a very good Hugh Bonneville impersonation. Sam, take notes.

I can't tell whether Kurt's tone is sarcastic when he's talking about 'She's Having A Baby', but it is funny

Also Santana. I am liking her more this season, and I guess her saying offensive things is slightly nicer when she's not doing it in a mean-spirited way (or you know, a comparatively less mean-spirited way)

Kurt's introduction of Moulin Rouge. Comedy gold

I don't always like Kurt and Blaine's harmonies, but they work here

That looks like a great hug. That was an amazing hug.

Santana loves stirring up drama, and sometimes it makes her fun, and sometimes it makes her really frustrating

Although I do enjoy her calling out Brody for being a creep. I don't like him either.

Also Santana rooting through pockets and draws--HILARIOUS. She's doing it with such intensity too.

"You guys pretend to be all accepting and stuff, but when your friend shows up, moves into your home and goes through all your stuff, you're offended?" Okay, I can forgive all of her other offences briefly, Santana is too funny in this episode for me to hold them against her

Adam's accent just makes everything he says amazing

Finn and Artie committing to the bit with the wigs

Emma's parents are so equal part funny and horrible

Adams 'yea' is adorable

I LOVE that the boys have incorporated Artie's wheelchair into their choreo. Allyship fr.

Also, I know Sam was behind 'Old Time Rock n Roll' (a song I rly like btw)

I'm not convinced the girls can top that. It was legitimately an awesome mashup

Marley looks stunning

Girl, why would you ever believe Kitty when she says she won't tell. She's an awful friend.

I feel like all the glee bullies (except Quinn) do this thing where they feel personally compelled to zone in on particular physical features when talking about and to people

Marley, I pray you do not listen to Kitty. She is an awful friend, I repeat. Also her advice has never gotten you anywhere ever

Yes, Unique lead!

Oh my, Marley's voice suits this song to utter perfection *chef's kiss*

Old Hollywood glamour will always suit everyone

Also their mashup is straight-up out of Moulin Rouge, so I'm not sure they should be counted

Adam truly shines in this episode

I cannot not smile when Finn does. The eyebrow-raise, crooked-smile, shrug combo is just so sweet

I can't believe Will got his students involved in the public serenade, but then, this is Will

Emma's nightdress is so pretty

Okay now I know why the students were involved--so we can get this awkward moment when he thanks them and makes them leave

One nice thing about this show is that they do recycle outfits--Emma's coat in this scene is from S2 Sectionals

And they're still avoiding the whole Finn-and-Emma thing. I guess they think drama is better if you let it stew.

"I'm not. I mean, I am. Just not now." Santana, I will not say this often but, I love you

Santana genuinely being very comforting. I am liking S4 Santana

Jake Puckerman and Marley Rose--ilysm.

Oh no, girl. You are not imagining Ryder instead of Jake. Unlike, the Finn/Emma thing which needs to be addressed, I would really rather the Ryder-kissing-Marley thing be dismissed as a moment of weakness from Ryder and they go back to normal, where Jarley are sweet and Ryder is a good friend.

Marley, you need to get him into a good headspace for this kind of thing, not just drop it on him when he's just finished with a Big Romantic Gesture

(one the flipside I am so glad she told him before Kitty did. Kitty's evil successfully averted!)

And the winner is...everyone. (it's obviously the boys, even though the girls looked and sounded spectacular, the boys were original and more creative)

Sugar!!! Love her!!!

Finn finally confesses and like Marley, chooses a poor moment. I do, however, like that he got it all out there, rather than just going with the select information.

Cory Monteith truly was The Actor for subtle facial expressions. He really did put 100% acting effort into Finn

Britt taking off her shoe--love it

[thetavolution]

TESSA CHASTAIN | Human | Rogue-Monk | She/Her | 35

What is your Tav’s…

Favorite Weapon: Sword of Screams

Style of Combat: She's pretty hands on in a fight. If she's not slicing and dicing, she's punching and kicking. She's a rogue-monk so she gets her hands dirty in every fight.

Most Prized Possession: At the beginning of the whole adventure, it's a necklace her father gave her. By the end of it, it's an engagement ring from Gale.

Deepest Desire: She'd love to settle down and have a normal life, even just for a little while. She's never been "normal," but she'd like to try.

Guilty Pleasure: She loves reading terrible romance novels and erotica.

Best-Kept Secret: She was born into the Zhentarim because of her father. Her family is from Icewind Dale so even a lot of the local Zhentarim members don't know her. It's likely they'd recognize her father's name if she brought it up though.

Greatest Strength: She's loyal. She's the mom friend so she's always comforting to be around.

Fatal Flaw: She's impulsive and leaps before she looks.

Favorite Smell: Roses.

Favorite Spell or Cantrip: She doesn't really cast spells often, but she does like using Ice Knife. When it comes to her allies, she loves it when they use Wall of Fire. It's wonderfully effective when used right.

Pet Peeve: Being late.

Bad Habit: She steals stuff all of the time. Her impulsiveness is also a bad habit. She stays up late and, when she was much younger, she was a party animal.

Hidden Talent: She's a talented writer. She's written short stories and novels, but she does nothing with them. They just sit, unread by anyone else. Gale will be the first person to know they even exist.

Leisure Activity: Writing.

Favorite Drink: Brandy

Comfort Food: Sun-Dappled Paella and Cranberry Cake

Favorite Person: Gale, Shadowheart, and Halsin

Favored Display of Affection (platonic and/or romantic): She likes to tell people how much they mean to her. Word of affirmation are big for her. With certain people, she likes to roughhouse. (She grew up with 5 brothers.) She's big on cuddling and kisses, too.

Fondest Childhood Memory: Most of her fond memories are the times her family were all together, but a few specific moments stick out. When she was around seven or eight, her father brought home a puppy for her and her brothers. Tessa was the one that doted on that dog though.

BEX MCQUOID | Mephistopheles Tiefling | Bard (College of Swords) | She/Her | 36

What is your Tav’s…

Favorite Weapon: Rapier

Style of Combat: Talking is her favored battle technique, be it Vicious Mockery or Dissonant Whispers. In melee, she likes to stick to her rapier. She's known for having some flair while sword fighting.

Most Prized Possession: Her violin. It was gifted to her by her teacher, the only person she felt cared about her during her childhood.

Deepest Desire: She wants to find where she belongs. She wants to finally let down her walls and care about someone deeply. She wants to be cared for in return and feel safe.

Guilty Pleasure: There is no guilt, only pleasure. Bex doesn't like to think of anything as a "guilty pleasure." Life is too short for that.

Best-Kept Secret: Unfortunately, I can't say! It mirrors her past in @thebonnevillegame too much. (Think of BG3 Bex as a multiverse version of The Bonneville Game's Bex.)

Greatest Strength: She's unflappable and steadfast. She can keep calm in a fight or stressful situation.

Fatal Flaw: She doesn't take situations seriously enough. She's also so used to taking care of herself that she's not great at being emotionally available for other people.

Favorite Smell: Oranges and the smell of fresh brownies

Favorite Spell or Cantrip: Dissonant Whispers

Pet Peeve: Being interrupted, leaving cabinets/drawers open, and egomaniacs.

Bad Habit: She's something of a packrat. She'll hold onto things just in case she needs it, or because she thinks having it adds comedic value to her life. She also relies far too heavily on alcohol when sad or anxious.

Hidden Talent: Although she's a bard, she's a talented cook. It's something she'll do to help pay the bills from time to time.

Leisure Activity: Cooking/baking and learning new recipes. She also likes to keep in shape.

Favorite Drink: Coffee or Mermaid's Whiskey

Comfort Food: Homemade Bread

Favorite Person: Astarion and Karlach

Favored Display of Affection (platonic and/or romantic): She loves hugs even if she won't say it. She's big on terms of endearment. Any kind of physical contact is welcome, including something as simple as a touch of a hand. Sometimes she'll gently "punch" people in the arm.

Fondest Childhood Memory: Training under her teacher, Valus. She was neglected as a child and Valus was the first adult in her life to look after her. Her fondest memories are spending time with him.

Thank you for tagging me @tavsboots!

I don't have anyone to tag. If you want to do it, please go right ahead!

[kiltedveteran]

Today we remember Doug Barney - End Of Watch - 1/17/2016

Officer Douglas Barney, 44, was killed in the line of duty on Sunday, January 17, 2016, while trying to question a man who seemingly had done nothing more than leave the scene of a traffic accident. An 18 year veteran police officer, Doug loved law enforcement and interacting with the community. Doug was perfectly suited to law enforcement, never able to sit perfectly still, always eager for something exciting, and relating to other people in a down-to-earth, sincere way.

Doug was born June 3, 1971 on a military base in Taiwan to Douglas Scott and Darlene Heinz Barney. Doug was raised in Anaheim, California, and worked at Disneyland as one of his first jobs. He attended Clara Barton Elementary School and Loara High School. He played water polo and was on the high school swim team. Just before his senior year, his family moved to Orem, Utah where Doug graduated from Orem High School. He loved the move to Utah and being able to ride dirt bikes daily in the hills behind his family home. After graduation Doug worked a series of jobs, mostly in the auto mechanics field like his father. He loved working on cars and raced his cars a couple of times at the old Bonneville Raceway.

Doug and his wife, Erika, grew up near each other in Anaheim and he liked to tell stories of how he had always had a crush on her. When Erika moved to Utah to attend BYU they continued their friendship and he tried his hardest to get her to commit to dating him (she had a habit of inviting her roommates along when he asked her out for pie.) In 1995 he showed up to her apartment unexpectedly and asked her to marry him. He asked again every day for several months until she finally accepted. Doug married Erika Gilroy on February 17, 1996 in his family home in Orem. Their marriage was later solemnized in the Jordan River Temple. Doug passed away one month before their 20th wedding anniversary.

After their wedding Doug told Erika that although he loved working on cars, it was a bit too lonely of a type of work for him. He didn’t like being underneath the cars by himself all day long and would tend to move around looking for conversations with other mechanics. He admitted to his wife that he had always wanted to be a police officer and, with her blessing, began applying with different agencies. Doug was hired as a corrections officer with the Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Office in December of 1998 and one year later was hired as a patrol officer. He worked primarily in Kearns and Magna, Taylorsville City, and Holladay City during his career. Doug earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of Utah by taking two classes a semester while working full time to support his family. His degree was in Sociology with a Criminal Justice certificate.

Doug was a devoted husband and father who loved spending time with his family and talking about them when he couldn’t be with them. He loved teaching his kids how to shoot guns, appreciate cars, and the basic approach to a few defensive control techniques. He loved music and listened to every conceivable type of music. For years he kept a cassette tape keyed up in his patrol car to Kenny Rogers’ Long Arm of the Law, which he would sing loudly when a prisoner seemed especially sulky on the way to jail. The end result was usually that they would come into the jail laughing together.

Doug was well known for his boisterous personality. He was larger than life in every way. He was very funny and was often able to diffuse a tense situation with a perfectly timed joke. It is very hard for a criminal to consider violence while laughing. Doug’s law enforcement brothers remember him for his signature greeting of, “hey, brotha!” or “hey, sista!”, and an almost knocking-the-wind-out pat on the back.

Doug struggled with bladder cancer and the side effects of treatments and surgeries for many years. He was frustrated by the time it took him away from work and from his family, but had an amazing ability to stay positive and upbeat and even lighthearted about the challenges. His only desire, always, was to be able to get back to work and to take care of his family. Doug will be forever missed.

RIP Doug. You are NEVER FORGOTTEN!

[best-movie-ever-tournament]

The Monuments Men was described as follow:

A cultural war. During WW2 the nazis stole a real treasure in art (paintings, sculptures...) and the Monuments Men were charged with preventing more theft and getting back the stolen masterpieces. The Sovietics are taking the art from the Germans as war reparations, so they don't have just one ennemy to deal with, and many people are less than enthusiastcs with helping them. A++ cast too, Clooney, Damon, Bill Murray, Bonneville, Blanchett...

1917 was described as follow:

A beautiful movie that is made so that it is (or looks like it is) in only one take. It's about two British soldiers during WW1 who have to cross into enemy territory to give a message to a group of 1600 men that they are going into a trap.

This movie was absolutely amazing!! Takes place during WW1 and centers on two British soldiers delivering a message to stop a British battalion from attacking and falling into a German trap. Historically accurate and filmed to look like it's all just one continuous shot (which was super cool to watch). Great cast and crew and it did a really good job capturing the horrors of trench warfare. Full of action and also some really sad and touching moments. HIGHLY recommend it if you haven't seen it

Was edited to look like it was filmed as one continuous take

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

what is your fancast of the Lupin family and the Tonks?

ooh, okay, so I've answered this before, but I've got some updated answers. I'd like to also highlight @giblimort's work. I just adore their Remus and Teddy Lupin. I like my Remus a little haunted looking, personally.

now, the problem is, I think most actors are too pretty looking for fan casts. all the actors I could think of were also older.

one of these days I'm going to try to use AI or get better at learning actors' names, but these are the ones I got for the Lupin fam. I still stand by a young Hugh Bonneville for Ted, and a young Helena Bonham Carter for Andromeda.

okay, so let's get to the updated fan casts!

Remus Lupin fan cast: a young Jeremy Irons

Nymphadora Tonks fan cast: a young Winona Ryder

Teddy Lupin fan cast: a young Haley Joel Osment

As for Hope Lupin...I'm still working on it.

(ok, so you'll see a theme. I don't know ANY young actors by name unless they're all over the news or in Stranger Things, lol)

[thatndginger]

Shapeshifter WIP Cast: Kerr McKay

Full Name: Kerr Kieran McKay

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 23

Birthday: April 1st

Species: Shapeshifter, rottweiler dog

Favorite color: sky blue

Vehicle?: 2012 Triumph Bonneville T100, heavily customized

A thing you don't need to know about them but I'm going to tell you anyway: Is incredibly good at bar games like darts and pool, and often uses these talents to make a quick buck when he's bored

What about them demanded I pull them from the primordial soup and microwave them on high for ten minutes every night at bedtime?: One of the few characters that has ever sprung fully-formed into my brain and too loud to ignore - Kerr's unpredictability and vibrancy constantly draws me back to him. You never know what trouble he's going to find himself in next, and what he'll do to get out of it. The little shit inspired me to write a series to contain all his shenanigans in, after all

The part of the human experience that demands to be captured in this character: throwing yourself into life headfirst, learning from your mistakes - usually the hard way, unwavering loyalty, the ease with which we make connections with each other

Kerr McKay is many things. A self-taught mechanic. An adrenaline junkie. A charming playboy. A caring, if annoying, brother. Many titles, many masks, all wrapped up in warm brown eyes and wild curls that could endear him to even the most cold-hearted villain.

It's hard to tell what's truth and what's an act with Kerr sometimes. He wears charm so well, is so quick with a smile and a joke, maybe an innuendo or two. It's only through the closest observation that he reveals his true intentions. And most people don't bother looking that close.

He’s not expecting Inés to be so fast. She’s on him before he can get his legs under him again. Her teeth are too close to his throat. He pushes his paws into her chest, but it’s a stopgap. There’s a triumphant gleam in her eyes as she pushes against his legs, inching her teeth closer.

Fuck. He needs to do something. He needs- He needs hands.

The shift is hard, that moment of peace between forms nearly impossible to find beneath the adrenaline and pain and thundering noise. But Kerr does it.

It's pins in his bones, radio static in his ears.

In the moment when his form blurs between dog and man, he grins.

[viciousgold]

"Don't chase the rabbit" 👀👀👀

content warning: statutory SA, abuse (basically this is my take of what happened between Marisa and Gerard Bonneville when Marisa was between the ages of seventeen and eighteen based on what we know from LBS and The Collectors so if that is triggering please avoid reading this) (this also includes the scene word for word from LBS where Malcolm tells her Gerard Bonneville is looking for her and how much this visibly shakes her, a usually fearless woman, and her daemon comforting her, a rare sight)

She had never loved Gerard Bonneville, though he had insisted he loved her. It started out as a professional relationship, Gerard being an experimental theologian studying Rusakov particles and Marisa a student at St. Sophia's, studying both experimental theology and metaphysics. Marisa was sixteen when they first met, only briefly, seventeen now. The first few months of them working together, in a sort of mentor/mentee relationship, it was strictly professional. However, slowly, Gerard realized how intensely fascinated Marisa was with his research, and how willing she seemed to do anything to know more. So he took advantage. Of course he did. Marisa learned that it was all men could do, was take advantage.

First, it was kissing between them, kissing and holding Marisa close. Marisa found that he always talked more about his research and showed her things when they were together like this. She soaked all of it up like a sponge, eager to learn more. She soon learned that he wasn't just studying Rusakov particles, he was also studying other worlds. Desperate to know more, their relationship furthered. As he drew her naked on canvas, touching her body as well, he told her all about the Barnard-Stokes Theory. As they lied together, he told her all about his machine that he was developing that could cut through the fabric of reality in order to see these worlds. Upon Marisa turning eighteen, he finished the development of this machine and had an unstable prototype. Still, she was desperate to see how it worked. Gerard agreed to show her if she agreed to try actually going to one of these other worlds. At the time, Marisa saw it as being gifted a wonderous opportunity, though Gerard saw it as testing if his device actually worked without assuming any of the risk. Marisa would be doing that.

She walked into that new world with such fervent curiosity and excitement. The machine had opened a window and was keeping it open, but her excitement soon turned into horror after it closed. She cried out to Gerard, banging on the wall hopelessly where the window had previously been. She had gone to explore this world for a few hours, taking in everything, trying to not panic, and hoped that the window would be open again when she got back. Thankfully when she went back to the spot, it took a few hours of waiting, but the window had opened again. Marisa ran through it and shoved Gerard in anger that he did that to her. That she was worried sick that he abandoned her, left her to die there. First he tried holding her, kissing her again to "try comforting her", but Marisa shoved him away. Told him to stay away from her. That she never wanted to see him again. Gerard told her to calm down, his hyena daemon snarling at hers.

"I mean it," she had said. "I'm leaving. Don't follow me." She had set off, away from his laboratory, though before she could leave, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. He gripped at her clothes, tried forcing himself on her, though she fought back. She had kicked, bitten, shoved, clawed, and finally she got free from his grasp and ran away as fast as she could. She ran back to St. Sophia's, back to her dorm room and locked the door, panting, shaking, feeling like she had just escaped with her life. She thought about going to Dame Hannah to tell her what had happened, to ask for her protection, but she felt too much shame to do that. She was about to graduate, she reminded herself. Once she graduated, she could leave Oxford and never return here. Until then, she would stay on the St. Sophia's grounds, stay around people, and hope that Gerard wouldn't come after her.

Upon graduation, she married. Her mother was pressuring her to marry, and she was desperate to get out of Oxford. Edward lived in London, so she married for an escape and stability.

Everything with the affair and the scandal with Asriel happened after that. Soon after, she gained authority and power with the Magisterium. One of the very first things she did with this power was making sure Gerard Bonneville would be behind bars. She had the CCD arrest him, Marisa taking all of his research papers in the process, and was the major prosecution witness in his trial, for the charge of sexually attacking young girls. She had found out before that she hadn't been the only one. Using this, she made sure he was convicted and went to prison.

However, they didn't keep him for long. Soon, he would be released, and a boy would tell her of this.

“Mrs. Coulter,” he said, “I met someone the other day who was a friend of yours.”

Asta could see Jesper’s eyes widen. Mrs. Coulter smiled again, but differently.

“I wonder who that was,” she said.

“I don’t know his name. He came in our pub. He was talking about you. His dæmon’s a hyena with three legs.”

That was a horrible shock for her. Malcolm could see it, and Asta could see it, and Dr. Relf and Jesper could see it too—but all that happened was that the golden monkey leaned forward and put both paws on Mrs. Coulter’s shoulders, and the faint pink left her cheeks.

“What an extraordinary thing,” she said in the calmest tone in the world. “I’m sure I don’t know anyone like that. And what pub is this?”

“The Scrivener’s Arms,” said Malcolm, certain that there was no pub of that name anywhere in the city.

“And what was he saying?”

“Just that he was a friend of yours and he was going to see you soon. I don’t think many people believed him, actually, because he hadn’t been in before and no one really knew him.”

“And do you spend a lot of time chatting in the bar to strangers?” The color had come back to her cheeks, but where it had been a delicate flush before, it was now a small fierce spot on each cheekbone.

“No, I just help out in the evenings,” Malcolm said in his most equable tone. “I hear lots of people saying all sorts of things. If he comes back, shall I tell him I’ve seen you and you don’t know him?”

“You’d better not say anything. You’d better not listen to nonsense either. I’m sure Dr. Relf would agree.”

Malcolm looked at Dr. Relf, who was listening wide-eyed. But she blinked and recovered, and said, “Was there anything else I can help you with, Mrs. Coulter?”

“Not for now,” said Mrs. Coulter. The golden monkey had come to sit on her lap and press his face into her hair, as if he was whispering. She stroked his fur automatically, and he turned his head to glare at Malcolm with those unfathomable eyes.

Marisa had left that room feeling that similar fear for her life again. She clutched onto her daemon, who in turn had his arms wrapped around her so tightly.

"It's alright," he whispered quietly in Marisa's ear. He rarely spoke and when he did, it was only to her. "He won't find us. We're fine now. We're fine."

"We're fine." Marisa whispered.

[fromharbor]

is that ADELINE RUDOLPH ? no, that’s ELSPETH SONG, a TWENTY-SEVEN year old FUNERAL TECHNICIAN who uses THEY/SHE pronouns. they currently reside in CARDINAL HILL and have been in blue harbor for ONE YEAR. she loves TAXIDERMY, ROMANTIC COMEDIES AND STICK-AND-POKE TATTOOS and the character they identify with most is LYDIA DEETZ FROM BEETLEJUICE.

full name ⸻ ELSPETH MINHA SUN . nickname(s) ⸻ ELS, MINHA . age ⸻ TWENTY SEVEN . gender identity ⸻ NON BINARY . orientation ⸻ BISEXUAL . pronouns ⸻ THEY/SHE . hometown ⸻ KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE . current occupation ⸻ FUNERAL TECHNICIAN . faceclaim ⸻ ADELINE RUDOLPH . influences ⸻ LYDIA DEETZ ( beetlejuice ) , NATALIE GOODMAN ( next to normal ) , ELEANOR BONNEVILLE ( saw ) .

the red dunes of tennessee are idyllic for those born there. those living on the bible belt would preach that their way is best; living among fronds of corn, fixing up hand-me-down fords, marching bands at the rise of the harvest moon. that little slice of heaven was home to elspeth and the song family, and their ranch was, by all accounts, an extension of their family tree. sure, they were a group of ruffians, vagabonds, and good-for-nothings; blood was thicker than water, and family ties were knotted tighter than grandma’s yarn. it was no surprise that elspeth caught the attention of the wrong crowds. for the most part those barnyard boys were swatted away, threatened with her father’s wrath if they threatened to come too close, yet it was inevitable that one of those low-down and dirty ranch boys would breach the walls that had been painstakingly built, brick by brick, to protect the youngest of the offspring. when the eldest of the canyon boys took a heavy hit to the head following a bull riding accident, elspeth was catapulted into the world of death. suddenly, every sun-bleached skull on the prairie caught her attention, each withered snake carcass beneath the baking southern heat. some might have called it a sick fascination, but they saw it as a healthy morbidity—a memento mori that outlined her future career in a line of thick white chalk. they hadn't seen the boy at the funeral, elspeth's mother protecting her children from the cocked-open casket, but the sting of chemicals in their nostrils and the cottony scent of coffin lining stuck with her since. their training came and went and, soon, they secured a job as a technician at the local funeral home. but soon enough, rodeo mishaps and moonshine poisonings became commonplace. was it unreasonable to say that elspeth was bored? when old cotton-eyed willy was wheeled into the mortuary after being bitten by a copperhead she realized that enough was enough. advancing her career, and advancing their life in the process, became their next priority, and where could have been more different to tennessee than blue harbor? their bags were packed that evening, a note left on the clinical tables detailing their departure; new pastures awaited. such an impulsive nature followed her to blue harbor. elspeth was lucky that there was an opening—in typical song fashion, she hadn't thought of a plan b—and soon she started up at the mortuary and found themself a sweet little house to call their own. when they have a rare day off, elspeth can be found frequenting the bookstore for some light, airy reading, or enjoying a tall glass of something fruity from the town's many bars. on those slow nights, those where she is waiting for the phone to ring, some ink and an old sewing needle become their paintbrush, and the skin of their thighs a canvas. if you want a cheap, slightly wobbly tattoo, elspeth's the contact. the art is intentionally crude, looking like child etchings across flesh; their own body acts as a walking portfolio of their bored doodles permanently marking each inch of their personal sketchbook. they heaviness of being a newcomer still weighs whenever they aren't gloved up and suited in a white coat. there is an acute loneliness that stings elspeth; perhaps that's why she is so quick to strike up a conversation with anyone that would listen. with that country lilt to their voice, their vocabulary a string of idioms and southern phrase, it's near impossible to shut them up once they get going. elspeth spends most of her time at work, being called to the mortuary at any time whenever a new death is announced. in those slim wedges of time between their shifts, they spend time watching movies, reading fluffy books, and engaging in self care to dampen the morbid happenings of her profession. as much as they love their job, downtime is prioritized; still, they feel as though there is something stopping them from fully integrating. drinking at the local bars seems to stifle the ache, even just a little.

[ridinggears]

The Ultimate Guide to Motorcycle Travel Bags for Riders in India

Motorcycle travel bags are essential for any rider looking to embark on long journeys or daily commutes with ease and convenience. In this guide, we'll explore various types of motorcycle luggage, from tank bags to saddlebags, and highlight what makes them perfect for bike riders in India. Whether you’re planning a weekend getaway or a cross-country adventure, the right motorcycle travel bag can make all the difference.

Types of Motorcycle Travel Bags

1. Saddlebags

Saddlebags are a popular choice among riders for their ample storage space and balanced weight distribution. These bags are mounted on either side of the rear wheel and can hold a significant amount of gear. They come in hard and soft varieties, with hard saddlebags offering better security and weather protection.

Pros:

Large storage capacity

Balanced weight distribution

Available in lockable hard cases

Cons:

Can be bulky

Installation may require additional hardware

2. Tank Bags

Tank bags are mounted on the motorcycle’s fuel tank, making them easily accessible while riding. They are perfect for storing smaller items such as maps, snacks, and electronic devices. Many tank bags are equipped with clear map pockets and smartphone holders for easy navigation.

Pros:

Convenient access

Clear map pocket and phone holder

Easy to install and remove

Cons:

Limited storage space

Can interfere with riding posture if too large

3. Tail Bags

Tail bags are secured to the rear seat or luggage rack of the motorcycle. They offer a versatile storage solution and are available in various sizes. Tail bags are ideal for carrying items that you may need to access less frequently during your ride.

Pros:

Versatile and adjustable

Can be used with or without a luggage rack

Good storage capacity

Cons:

Can shift weight balance if overloaded

May require additional straps for secure mounting

4. Backpacks

Motorcycle backpacks are designed specifically for riders, featuring ergonomic straps and often waterproof materials. They provide mobility and are great for carrying personal items when you need to leave your bike unattended.

Pros:

Mobility and convenience

Ergonomic design for comfort

Often waterproof and durable

Cons:

Can be uncomfortable on long rides

Limited storage compared to mounted bags

Choosing the Right Motorcycle Travel Bag in India

When selecting a motorcycle travel bag, consider the following factors to ensure you choose the best option for your needs:

1. Capacity

Think about the amount of gear you need to carry. For long trips, larger saddlebags or a combination of tank and tail bags might be necessary. For daily commutes, a tank bag or backpack could suffice.

2. Weather Resistance

India's diverse climate means you may encounter rain, dust, and extreme heat. Opt for bags that offer good weather resistance, such as waterproof materials and sealed zippers.

3. Security

If you plan to leave your bike unattended, especially in urban areas, security becomes crucial. Hard saddlebags with locks or tail bags with built-in security features can provide peace of mind.

4. Compatibility

Ensure that the bag you choose is compatible with your motorcycle model. Some bags require specific mounts or racks, so check for compatibility before purchasing.

Top Motorcycle Travel Bags Available in India

ViaterraClaw Mini Tail Bag

The Viaterra Claw Mini Tail Bag is compact yet spacious, perfect for weekend trips. It is made of durable materials and comes with multiple mounting options.

VIATERRA LEH - 100% WATERPROOF MOTORCYCLE SADDLEBAG

Leh 100% Waterproof saddlebag system is now larger and improved for all motorcycles, especially those with straight exhausts like Royal Enfields and Triumph Bonnevilles.

VIATERRA VIPER PRO - MOTORCYCLE TANK BAG (UNIVERSAL)

The all-new ViaTerra Viper Pro is a versatile tank bag that combines sleek style with tough durability. It is designed with modularity in mind and features a carefully crafted design, impressive looks, and durability that truly make it stand out. Additionally, its buckle-based mounting system makes refueling on the go a breeze. Elevate your riding experience with the feature-packed Viper Pro Tank Bag.

Conclusion

Choosing the right motorcycle travel bag is crucial for a hassle-free riding experience. Consider your storage needs, weather conditions, and security requirements when selecting a bag. With the right gear, you can enjoy the open road and explore the beautiful landscapes of India without any worries.

Happy riding!

[joshlane]

MERROCK TASK #19 THE TINIEST DETAILS

do they drive? if so, do they enjoy driving or do they hate it? or somewhere in between? Josh is big on cars and bikes and he loves to drive. Probably doesn't do it as much as he wishes he had time to, but he loves to hit the open road and just go.

if they drive, where is their favorite location to drive to? Along the coast of Maine. There are so many things to see even outside of Merrock, and he wants to enjoy all of it.

if they drive, do they own a vehicle? if so, what make and model? He has a 2018 Dodge Challenger SXT and is in the process of restoring a 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T with his dad, in a similar color scheme (convertible style, though). He also has two motorcycles: his 1990s Kawasaki speed bike used for ... well, speed, and his baby, his 1960s Triumph Bonneville that has been painstakingly restored.

what bumper stickers do they have on their car? No sticker will ever touch a car in his family.

what paintings and/or posters are on their walls? Paintings of local landscapes more than anything else. Josh doesn't really have a lot of art on the walls, and what he does have isn't super personal. He does have some framed photos on the mantle and on his bedside table, though.

what is a song they listen to with the windows rolled down, turned all the way up, on the highway? Absolutely any song by the Foo Fighters, if you can drive down the highway, windows down, and not sing along to the Best of You, then you're inhuman.

is there an artform they’ve always wanted to try (glassblowing, woodworking, painting, ect) but never have? if so, what about that artform speaks to them? Being one of those not-artisically-gifted kinds of people, probably anything, at this point. He can do a little bit of building, so woodworking might be a good way to go. It would help him work around his house more.

what time of day do they usually start getting sleepy? Josh isn't much of a night owl these days, although he doesn't go to bed early, either. He's normally settled down for the night around ten, in bed and trying to sleep by no later than eleven.

do they catch a second wind? if so, what is their method for catching it (napping, drinking coffee, exercising, ect)? If he needs to, yes, he absolutely can. Most of the time he relies on coffee, but a brisk jog will do the trick, too, if he doesn't want to rely on caffeine to get him through.

are they a nap person? if so, how long are their naps? do they set a 20 minute timer and wake up before it? or set no timer and wake up in the middle of the night? Josh is not a nap person, no. He doesn't actually remember the last time he took a nap, come to think of it. If he had to, he would set a timer, though, he hates the groggy feeling that comes with sleeping for too long.

what is the most obscure book they’ve read? The Psychopath Test.

what is a book that interested them so much they took it with them to the bathroom? ... not going to lie, there's probably a stack of motorcycle magazines in Josh's bathroom, not books.

what did the air smell like during their childhood? Obviously, growing up in Merrock, there were the standards: sea air, pine, lobster when you went to the market, fish, fresh flowers. But Josh's childhood consisted of potpourri and freshly made baked goods, too, those are things that he remembers always being in his home.

what is a core memory from their childhood that they look back on fondly and for comfort? Riding a motorcycle at sixteen was pretty cool, but if he would have to go with childhood, then probably the first time that his parents ever sat him down and talked about where he came from, explained how adoption worked, asked him if there was anything that he wanted to know, or things that he would want to learn with them.

when was the last time they were held, and truly held, for several minutes? who was it with? Probably the last time that he was with Espie; they're not a huge PDA couple on your average, every day, but that doesn't mean that they're not into intimacy when they're alone. Josh is a closet snuggler, too.

do they meditate? if not, have they ever tried? how did it go? Yes. Not every day, but often, and it helps him out a lot. It both helps bring him into his own head and also get him out of his own head, if that makes sense.

how many pennies and quarters do they have in their couch? There's probably quite a bit in there, he isn't too ashamed to say that the couch cushions aren't really a huge priority when he's cleaning his house, either.

how dusty is their home? spotless, lived-in, dust bunny haven? There's definitely a little bit of dust here and there, but it's nothing dramatic. He does clean his house regularly! It's just that he lives outdoors in the warm months, which means that dust might accumulate on top of the bathroom mirror or behind the microwave, and he's okay with that. In the cold months, his house is spotless, though.

what is their favorite chocolate bar? Having a huge sweet tooth, Josh really isn't picky about this.

do they like their brownies fudgy or cakey? or not at all, and only want the crusts? Probably a little more cakey, and he definitely will reach for the crust pieces.

what's that one weird food combination that everyone else thinks is gross but they think is delicious? Josh likes cottage cheese with apple butter. The combination itself isn't that gross to people who like it, but given that most people aren't into cottage cheese, period, he gets some strange looks!

where do they put their shoes when they come home from a long day? Under his bed if they're clean, kicked in the doorway where they can wait to be cleaned if they're dirty.

after a vacation, do they immediately unpack or slowly retrieve items from their suitcase until its empty? Immediately unpack -- Josh doesn't have a huge wardrobe, and every piece that he does have, he wears regularly, so for him, it's important to make sure that stuff gets washed to be worn again.

how often do they do self-reflection? Oh, a lot. It's hard not to compare himself to his patients, or think about the decisions that he makes and how it impacts everyone around him. Also, he considers himself a very dumb smart person, given how intelligent he is and how fast he jumps on a donor cycle daily.

are they more afraid of being alone with themselves or with others? Neither. At his age, Josh is confident both alone and with others, and has come to accept himself pretty well.

have they ever had a near death experience? if so, what was it? Not yet. Give it time.

out of all the subjects in school, which was their favorite? which one did they excel at? Not to brag, but Josh definitely excelled at everything in school, he didn't really give himself any other choice. He had to be the best. His favorite subject was probably sociology, though. Or history.

how many alarms do they have set on their phone? what is their alarm ringtone? Just the one, he very much so has no problem waking up when it goes off, and getting on with his day. His ringtone is just the standard ringtone that came with the phone.

do they fart in front of other people? or do they hide their farts? He definitely has, but he wouldn't do it to be rude, no.

do they have to see any specialist doctors? if so, do they have a strong bond with their doctor or do they dislike them? Josh actually does have his own therapist that he sees somewhat regularly. There is no reason for it, other than taking on a huge emotional and mental burden of his own with each appointment, and wanting to make sure his mental health is in top shape. He gets along with her very well.

what is their favorite seasoning? Old bay.

what is their favorite sauce? Soy sauce or wasabi, probably.

how spicy is spicy for them? (pepper, jalepeno, ghost pepper, ect) Josh can do a little bit of spice, but probably nothing more than a jalapeno, he knows his limits.

how long do they let the dishes go unwashed? The dishes get done the same day that they are used. He's very adamant about keeping a clean kitchen, since it's not the largest room, and can easily look cluttered if things start to pile up.

how much laundry do they accumulate before doing it? Laundry gets done on the weekend, it's normally a Sunday afternoon activity, but he does a mid-week load of things that need washed regularly, such as underwear, socks, sleep clothes, running clothes, that sort of deal.

what shampoo, conditioner, cologne/perfume and deodorant do they use? Paul Mitchell or Method for shampoo and conditioner, normally alternating a little bit, so he doesn't have a ton of build-up or anything of the sort. For cologne, he leans towards Hugo Boss scents, easy to wear stuff, for the most part. And deodorant, he's really not picky. Pretty sure he's using Old Spice most of the time.

[isopodshenanigans]

We went to Bonneville Dam recently, highly suggest it, it's a very cool place to go, although maybe slightly less so in the rain. Super cool seeing all the salmon passing through the fish ladder, if you're in Oregon or Washington and willing to make a drive, be sure to check it out!

Miggy, Otodus, and Squishy found an absolutely massive wrench. They were very impressed. Wait is that a wrench? Hm.

All of them lined up on another giant thing! Big to them, and to humans.

Oo this looks interesting. It used to be part of the dam. Which, yes, is much bigger then them. I couldn't get a picture of them all on the giant propeller blade that was also in here. Too big.

Kitsune and Squishy have found a typewriter, not something you see much nowadays. Please ignore my feet and trenchcoat in the bottom corner. Don't worry, I didn't let them actually try and push any keys. It was not for touching.

Unclear what this was for, but Kitsune, Squishy, and Axo sure did find it interesting. Lots of wires.

Squishy and Kitsune overlooking the work area for the dam! This was actually inside of it, that was pretty far below. It was huge though. There was a crane up above as well, although couldn't get a pic of that with them. They couldn't exactly reach.

Investigating the very interesting hats. Looks like Otodus got bored and wandered off. To be fair, I did promise them fish, and the fish haven't been seen yet. Soon.

Fish! Kind of. None visible yet, but you could see them occasionally when they jumped up the ladder. It was pretty cool. Otodus certainly thought so, even if it was raining.

There were mostly very very big fish(like longer then my arm and thicker then my waist), but there were a few smaller guys vibing at the bottom in small shoals. They had to swim at least three times as hard just to keep up with the current. Must be tiring.

Otodus is very impressed by the fish.

We stopped for lunch afterwards, featuring a shot of my ipad with Otodus and Axo investigating(and taking a little nibble of) my orange chicken. No it isn't orange, that's okay it tasted really good.

Otodus also snuck a bite of my sister's absolutely massive burrito. She didn't mind too much, they are a very small isopod and can't exactly eat much.

Otodus also got into my mom's fries. Greedy little isopod. That's okay, Otodus is too cute to face repercussions.

One more shot of my ipad, but now Otodus is investigating the boba! Fear not, Otodus cannot get to it. They are very interested in it though, it does look awfully tasty. (It was very tasty, I've never had boba before and I really liked it)

I leave you with a reminder to check out my Etsy store! You can get isopods just like these ones there, including the Miguel O'hara isopod! While he isn't pictured in the offical pictures, you can see him here, or in the introduction post for him, just tap on the Miggy tag and it'll be there, along with any other shenanigans he is inadvertently roped into.