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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 2 years ago

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Happy Birthday, Ronnie Bradshaw! | March 3rd, 1987 |

And to celebrate, here are some headcanons about how Ronnie celebrates her birthday in the Big Four AUs (regular, werewolf, regency, and nfl)

Regular AU

On this particular birthday, her and Jake have been living in DC for five months

And she’s twelve weeks pregnant

Just getting out of that first trimester and starting to feel like a normal human person after constantly throwing up and feeling fatigued nearly all hours of the day

Usually, Ronnie doesn’t like to make a big deal out of her birthday. Maybe a group dinner at her friend’s urging. But nothing huge.

But Jake Seresin is nothing if not his mother’s son (he even gets her help in planning the whole thing)

The man goes all out

He rents out their favorite restaurant, a pub style place with fish tacos that never fail to make Ronnie drool.

Calls all her friends from California and asks them to fly out if they can, and most of them do (including one Penny Benjamin).

Decks out the pub in brightly colored beach themed decorations (some of which he had to make himself and hide from her in the storage shed in their backyard).

The man even buys SAND and fills up a kiddie pool with it for her to sink her toes in.

And all of it is a huge surprise

He just knows how much she misses California and her friends, and he sees this as one way to thank her for leaving all of that behind for HIM (which still blows his mind and makes him feel guilty in some ways)

When her birthday finally came and the night of the party arrived, Jake made her put on the tight, brightly colored sundress that really showed off her growing bump.

Then he drove them over to the pub, and she was none the wiser.

That is until he put a sparkling sash over her shoulder that had “BIRTHDAY GIRL” splashed across the front. That was about when she narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what exactly he was up to.

When they walked in everyone yelled surprise and Ronnie cried. Reuniting with all her friends in tear filled embraces.

She spent the night eating fish tacos in a beach chair with her feet in the sand, sipping on non-acoholic cocktails, surrounded by people she loved, and wondering what she did to deserve jake seresin.

Werewolf AU

If loud and life of the party original recipe ronnie doesn’t like making a big deal out of her birthday, werewolf au ronnie even more so

When she was a kid birthdays were very casual affairs. Just dinner at home with homemade cake and one or two presents.

But of course Jake still likes to treat her on her special day

He’ll wake her up by eating her out with breakfast in bed, making sure the kids stay out to give her a moment of peace and quiet.

He’s been working with the kids all week to make little presents for her. They wrote her stories, made cards, picked bouquets of wild flowers. The older ones will actually drive into town and pick something out from the store.

They’ll usually give gifts as soon as she’s up and out of bed, too impatient to wait any longer.

Then the rest of the day goes as normal for the most part.

The kids will go off to school and she’ll stay home, working on one project or other around the house and doing research in old werewolf texts.

She’ll cook her favorite for dinner

Then Frank will come over to watch the kids while Jake takes her on a run through the woods.

They’ll stop in their special little clearing for an evening glass of champagne that Ronnie carried on her back (she knows not to look inside the bag he gives her).

Jake always makes sure he has a project that she’s requested finished for her on her birthday. Whether it be a new jewelry box, a new table for the entryway, a new rocking chair for the nursery.

But sometimes he’ll add in something special. A necklace or braclet that he’s made himself in his shop, just because he can. Just because he loves seeing her in things that he’s made.

It’s a sweet birthday that ALWAYS without fail ends with them fucking in that clearing lol

Regency AU

Two words: birthday ball

But for real, every year Mr. Seresin and Miss Veronica plan an extravagant ball to be held on the evening of her birthday

They invite over all their friends, and neighbors, and family.

And of course there’s always a big enough cake for everyone to get a slice, the true marvel of the county for one night only

But I can imagine, as their daughters start to come of age and are introduced to society, that their birthday balls take on higher priority. And Miss Veronica stops throwing them on her own birthday all together.

The first birthday with no party would feel strange

Waking up with no plans besides her brother and his family, and Miss Amelia and her family, coming over for dinner

But goddamn if Mr. Seresin doesn’t make her feel special throughout the day

Showering her with gifts and affection, spending all of his time with her

And when the night is over and everyone has retired to bed or their respective homes, Mr. Seresin hums her a tune as they dance in their sitting room

NFL AU

Okay SO birthday before she got pregnant where she just finished out her first few weeks with the Colts:

She went down to Bloomington for the day

Met up with Bradley and a few college friends that still lived in the area

Walked around her old IU stomping grounds

And since Brad is the head coach of the football team, he got them all into the stadium

Him and Ronnie tossed around a ball and she got to run the ball down the field and celebrate like she just scored a touchdown

They went to Mother Bears for dinner then to Blue Bird for drinks and live music

Honestly one of the best birthdays she’s had in a long time

Now flashforward to the next March, baby Maddie is only a month old and her and Jake are engaged.

They still go down to Bloomington for the day

Ronnie gives Jake a tour of IU with Maddie strapped to her front

Brad still gets them into the stadium, and he holds his niece while Jake and Ronnie toss a ball back and forth

They go to Taste of India for dinner at Ronnie’s request

Then head off to their AirBnB in Nashville for the night since it’s way past Maddie's bedtime

After that, Ronnie can’t decide which birthday is better

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katmk36 · 10 months ago

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Summer

Carlo tends to spend his mornings training with Amelia's father in the Magic Realm.

When home he will sell potions he has made, paint, and study magic tomes.

He will end his night with a small drink.

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #Neal Legacy #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #ts4 supernatural #nl gen 1 #tw acohol #acohol

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bakugouwu · 4 years ago

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welp time to drink

#mimosas 😍😍😍#im gonna drink and drink and drink until i feel nothing 😋#acohol tw

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cashbotbosshq · 2 years ago

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WHY ARE YOU DRUNK DONT YOU HAVE WORK???

#alcohol cw #tw drinking #tw acohol #tw drunk #hangover #cfo has to work with a hangover & regrets #toontown cogs #toontown #art #toontown corporate clash #toontown online #anon ask #ttcc #ask blog #toonblr #answer

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cupcakes-and-pain · 4 years ago

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AN: This is one of my OC Whumpees. His name is Andy, he’s pretty defiant, and he is a robot created to serve humans. He would do anything for Pal, another robot. There’s not much whump in this chapter, but I promise there will be loads in the future.

TW: Cutting into Whumpee (not self harm), taking them apart, alcohol, being drunk, mentions of sleep deprivation, mention of starvation, longing to murder someone, longing to stab someone

Andy sat there, in the corner where Joshua told him to stay. He was angry and wanted to transform his fingers into knives, as he was taught to do when someone attacks what you are supposed to protect. But he knew that if he wanted to get out of here and back to his home, he must do whatever this “programmer” tells him to.

He still doesn’t understand how Mistress Layla bought the story he Andy had stolen the food and not Pal, but he’s glad that Pal is safe. Pal is a different model, a newer and more obedient one that can even eat. But Mistress Layla would never allow mere robots to eat, so she only let Andy cook her meals nowadays. But late one night, after a painful removal of Pal’s central computer (When disassembling a robot, you’re supposed to power them, no it, them off first. This way, they exprince no pain, but Mistress Layla always “forgot”), Pal needed extra fuel and snuck into the kitchen. The next morning Mistress Layla realized that food was missing and asked for who did it. And then Andy lied.

So that is how it- no, he got in this situation. Sitting in a programmer’s workshop. Joshua was supposed to fix him and get him to be more obedient. But all this guy ever did was painfully poke around and then overcharged Mistress Layla. Not that she ever noticed, always too busy complaining how much wine costs that she doesn’t see that it’s the robot bills that dry up her bank account. Andy had made sure that he and Pal got all the newest and most expensive upgrades, telling Mistress Layla that these were mandatory things. She sometimes found out about his lies and made him run on low energy, which was like starving and sleep deprivation rolled in one, or pull apart his parts when he was still on. She did these things in a drunken rage, and it was that same drunkenness that prevented her from catching on next time.

“Hey, Hey! Stupid bot! Pay attention when I’m talking. Ah, who am I kidding, it doesn’t understand complex commands.” The programmer grumbled, shaking Andy out of his thoughts. How he even had thoughts was a mystery, but if he had thoughts then he didn’t deserve to be called an “It” the way he saw it.

“Look. Here.” Joshua pointed to his face and talked slowly like Andy was a toddler. “Understand. Me?”

Andy just nodded, not really caring what the programmer did or said. Andy didn’t really care about anything anymore, save Pal.

He watched as Joshua pulled out his screwdriver. And then he just shoved it underneath a piece of metal that protected Andy’s sensitive hard drive. The screwdriver hit a delicate wire and Andy shuttered involuntarily, the pain shooting through his body. He really wished he was powered off. At least with Mistress Layla’s punishments, he was supposed to learn something, although he never did. But this? There was no reason to keep a robot on when repairing them.

***

Three hours later, after a lot of pain and unnecessary poking and prodding, Andy got picked up from the programmer’s workshop and stuffed roughly into Mistress Layla’s trunk by her driver. Joke’s on the driver, he overheard that Pal was going to take over driving Mistress Layla around starting next Monday.

They drove for 45 minutes until reaching Mistress Layla’s small mansion in the woods. The kind of woods where no one would hear Mistress Layla’s screams. Not that Andy would be alone with her without getting his knife fingers removed, but a robot could dream. If, oh, who was he kidding, when the robots take over, Andy knew what would be at the top of his list for things to do during world domination.

#whump #knife mention tw #cuts tw #no self harm though #acohol tw #original writing #my writing #writing

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eddisgon-blog · 5 years ago

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BERK ATAN? No, that’s actually EDGAR BONES from the MARAUDERS ERA. You know, the child of ENDER BONES and IRMAK BONES (NÉE KUNDAKÇI)? Only 29 years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as an UNSPEAKABLE and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. HE identifies as CIS-MAN and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be RECKLESS, BELLIGERENT, and INTRANSIGENT but also TENACIOUS, JUST, and ASTUTE. — &&. ( CAMI, GMT, SHE/HER, 19. )

TW: death, child death, blood, alcoholism (vaguely)

yoho guess what, edgar is a reckless idiot who somehow has gotten even more reckless and yall are gonna have to put up with it! he’s also just as likely as harry to name his next kid albus so there’s that tidbit of info. his favourite colour is lilac. now here’s some worse info:

the child of relevant members of wizarding community AND purebloods, things could have gone much differently for edgar, but that’s a fact he’s taken long to comprehend. the role his loving family, that believed in him every step of the way, played is one of love for edgar, but not something he’d, until rather recently, attribute to the way his story goes - not the way his story ends. their values, their love, their care, his siblings; they were truly so important in the makings of him.

irmak and ender were a strong tree, with branches all around him for protection, softening every blow and fall. their safety and encouragement nurtured a deep desire within him to do whatever he set his mind to, regardless of the consequences. after all, if he tried hard enough, he’d get all of his wishes. as a child, edgar wasn’t learning how to fly a broomstick as fast as his friends and siblings, and he didn’t have any particular wish to take the heights, but his assumed failure only propelled him to try harder. for hours upon hours, he’d lose balance, fall to the ground and then get back up, knees dripping blood. his father found him at dinnertime, taking rounds around the house, conquering for the sake of conquering alone.

that tenacity never left the boy, determining his future within the gryffindor bravado, his push for better grades, his detentions and self-made heartbreaks, all because the riot in him would not let him stand still. hexes and kicks, edgar quickly became known as one not to anger, a likely future brutal auror, given his yearning for justice even after the smallest of infractions, like a group calling a muggleborn slurs after potions class - because the world was his to conquer, should he chose to, and he had nothing else to choose.

entitled, they called him. edgar always prefer to see himself as an idealist instead.

the moral code passed down by his family was instrumental in the shaping of who he became. eddie always knew wrong from right, and that certainty let him see the world as black or white, with no room for the indecisions his classmates exhibited, or the inconsistencies of the ministry, every newspaper headline contradictory with the previous. the world around him seemed to tip toe and edgar knew only how to slam in.

his ways kept him close with a variety of friends, but especially to the other rowdy ones, unafraid to speak their minds and go just far enough to be thrown in detention once more. his ways also cost him the biggest thing he’d been after all of hogwarts: the prefect badge.

II.

becoming an auror had a certain allure to it. an outlet for the flaming energy inside him, and for his yearning for justice, being a source of scenarios in which he could play the detective, a role he so enjoyed. training was brutal, however, and every day passed, his desire to live forever beneath a badge kept diming. edgar’s lack for motivation was noticeable, as if the light in his eyes had purely shut off, and his mates encouraged him to pursue other paths.

politics was out of the question, too grey for him. healing bored him to death (and he was never that great at herbology anyway). eddie considered journalism for a while, but the likely future of a dusty desk at the daily prophet, carrying out their at times sensationalist work, made him not want to read a newspaper ever again. but edgar couldn’t be adrift. he’d made damn sure all his life he was pushing himself to be the very best possible, edgar with a plan, edgar ready to make a dent on the world. to accept defeat would have very easily broken him.

after short stints in ministry offices (from clerk, which lasted all of four days, to secretary, security, forgotten offices who’d hire pretty much anyway with decent grades) he became a hit wizard. his intellect suffered, not through any fault of his coworkers, but due to it being so damn close to auror work, except he couldn't call the shots, not could he investigate, piece together the puzzles like he so loved. in the meantime, he’d sought direction in life elsewhere: that pretty girl from the bar just at the end of his street whose talks of muggle films and news had always kept him for hours, drink in hand, too enthralled to sip. he hated the trickery of politics but he could hear her explaining the iron curtain for hours. anna had stuck around through every change, knowing little of the context of it all. then a little more. and a little more. small breaches of wizard law, small TREASONS. he’d moved in with her, shown her a spell or two. in a few years she was meeting his family, watching his cousins fly in a broom, reading his newspapers with the moving images and scary news of impending conflict. (even marrying the fool, later down the line)

hit wizard work is brutal, and it began to show. despite being an outlet for his inner riot, it put him in vulnerable positions, and anna worried - that simply had to stop. especially when she became pregnant.

to this day, eddie isn’t certain who dropped his name in the department of mysteries - he suspects his father, or perhaps dumbledore, who’d begun seeing him more often (he did enjoy placing pawns in place, not that edgar would acknowledge such a grey-area) - the young man found a letter inside one of his kitchen cabinets. another later that day inside his pocket. he as being summoned, should he wish to go. an interview followed. for hours, edgar sat - lies, he paced around in excitement - solving puzzles, enigmas, philosophical debates; the stuff he left at hogwarts and at auror training. at last, something that brought that light back, filling him with interest. there were no limits, no bureaucratic doors closing - the questions were secret and so were his answers. the puzzle solver was hired the following day, circling through various sub-departments until he got settled doing research on the subject of death a year before the shift of time. the questions that troubled him the most involved immortality and the concept of a chronological finish line. he laughs at that now.

the secrecy of his job was always the hardest part. eddie was never one to keep secrets, especially not when excitement ran through him, and he often spilled results and theories that had been found just because he couldn’t contain his excitement in.

sidenote: he’s a very gestural person. speaking for edgar means moving around, big physical gestures, arms flaying, a proper demonstration.

the conscience instilled in him in the past was raw energy when combined with his entitlement.the very same characteristics were what drew dumbledore to him, with a position in mind. edgar couldn’t say no to a side-job as a revolutionaire. there, along with his work, was a change to leave something of value behind. plus, he had personal skin in the game then. his future wife was a target, he was a traitor, his children heresy.

eddie had, as well, his experience as a hit wizard, which made him useful for field work. that same bravado and need to fix the world made him devoted with reckless abandon. dumbledore was a figure he worshipped, unable to see the flaws in their own plans. there was no way he could have made himself bigger of a target during the war, especially when it was not nearly as quiet of a fact as it should have been that he was an unspeakable, with access to untold knowledge - especially one his enemies looked for. a traitor who knew too much and was too damn stupid to keep that to himself. edgar was a man with lots to lose living in the shoes of a man with nothing to lose.

that very year brougth another major event besides new career, the order and his first child: the murder of his parents, in the very hosue he’d grown up in, the very hosue his younger sister still lived in. visibly freaking the mold, perhaps even called traitors, the bones were a proeminent thorn in need of ripping out, and edgar got lost in the confusion of the year. he let it fuel him, of course, but he didn’t allow himself to properly grieve, nor to be present for his siblings who also needed to grieve. from a young age he’d been told to walk away if he was angry, to not mix such a horrible feeling and family, and that’s just what he did. the world was broken and it burned him from inside out so he stepped away and dealt with it (poorly) on his own, a decision that came to haunt him the following year once the dust settled. he’d left them, the one promise edgar couldn’t have broken - they’d needed each other and he’d left. not that he’s apologised as of yet, all these years, but the shame of his decision comes to light at times.

III. (the death tw and child death tw applies very heavily in this whole part)

the future comes with many harsh truths to take in. they won, but not really. the world had barely changed, so what was the point of all the sleepless nights, all the wounds he’d healed, all the missions he’d led? what was the point of standing proud in front of the masked foes? what was the point of burying his friends one by one? what was the point of dying as his children cried upstairs?

those were the news that truly shock him. edgar knew he’d get himself killed eventually, even if he did his best to deny it. but reckless, he didn’t think they’d come for anna, or for his three children. he’d set up protections, just in case, of course - wards around the house and portkeys in specific places meant for emergency escapes - but how could have expected a terrified seven year old to remember where they kept the music box that would take her to grandma’s house? the futility of it all hit him like a wave.

edgar dug in as soon as he learned, damned be the questions his line of work had taught him to ask. time didn’t matter, not at all. what did was the bloodshed his story told. which friends wouldn’t have made it either. his sister, who’d survive only to have to fight the same war again, with worst odds. himself. his family. a bottle of firewhiskey next to the folders he’d gotten from ministry friends and connections. both vices, drinking and learning the painful details of the truth, were self-destructive tendencies he’d thought he’d long escaped. perhaps that was the bones curse, to always crawl back to whatever wrecked them even more in times of hurt.

every newspaper article, trial transcript and even the crime scene photographs he chased hell and below to get his hands on. it was addictive, to learn exactly how much he could blame himself, how much he could blame the war, and who he should exert vengeance on. by now, he knows how to draw a timeline of the event better than any auror on the case, minute by minute, victim by victim, player by player; as he obsessed over it for the first week and a half, non-stop.

they’d followed him for days, believing him to be a way to the prophecies they searched, or to answers they might seek. and to take down a traitor. a rebel traitor at that. he’d been too blind to notice. they’d chipped slowly at his wards. they’d broken in one wednesday night, at dinner time, shortly before anna and the children had gotten home. edgar didn’t see them there when he put away his coat, when he saw the bags of takeout on the kitchen counter, when he asked the eldest, dahlia, if she had homework to do. like rats in the walls.

he’d died downstairs. edgar broke a chair against the wall when he learned. he’d died downstairs, hand reaching up, head rested on the second step. after short but brutal torture, in which he seemed to have revealed more secrets than most whistleblowers, he still died downstairs, his moral sacrifice for nothing - but he was probably desperate, he thought, desperate to reach up, where anna, dahlia, oscar and oliver hid, from where he heard his son yell for him, from where he heard the toddler cry, from where he eventually heard anna scream in horror. even if he’d died upstairs too, he just wanted to be there, the last barrier between the world he’d brought upon his family and them. no matter how much furniture and vases she threw at death eaters, anna came to a wand fight ill prepared, and she was the first to go. the small one in her arms too. oscar followed, holding a shoe - it was the wrong one, the portkey shoe just a meter away. and edgar tried to run, to climb, but he remained downstairs, not nearly as close. dahlia was later, he read, assumingly because she was the hardest to find - underneath a bed.

three weeks. that’s all he had until then. if the time shift had happened three weeks later, he’d be dead.

the aftermath was a mess. muggle neighbours heard yelling and called the police while aurors arrived, but not soon enough to stop the confusing murder of a whole household from hitting local news. in 2029, it’s a cold case, has been for decades. but edgar had learned the truth wizardkind knew and he let him fuel him. after darkness, he bounced back with the flaming hope that made him join the order: he could change things. if he tried hard enough, harder than LAST time. if he just worked hard enough, edgar could fix this and forget there’s a grave with his name - but he can’t. ever since it happened, he visits it nearly weekly. it was looking old, nearly forgotten, like the world had moved on without him, without his family, without amelia, without his fallen revolutionary friends. he’s cleaned them up, put some flowers on them. you see, this time he’s actually a man with nothing to lose, nothing he hasn’t lost before.

no amount of puzzle solving can erase the fact that he should not exist right now - edgar feels very much alive, perhaps more than ever before, now that blinding rage courses through him and now that the past is past and he has nothing to lose by trying a new timeline. but another him, just a few WEEKS older, is bone and dirt beneath a tombstone in his hometown, so now he searches for answers.

edgar is driven by the riot in his head, still very much the son of the revolution, even if his war ended forty-eight years ago.

NOW who’s ready for some character paralels? shadow moon (american gods), luke bankole (handmaids tale), meredith grey (grey’s anatomy), steven crain (thohh), elijah bradley (marvel), quentin coldwater (the magicians), sabrina spellman (tcaos), jessica jones (mcu) ?????

#quantum intro #❛ v . | prophets are awfully quiet - it’s as if they know only of answers ; headcanons .#death tw #blood tw #child death tw #acohol tw

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