#also stew is included because why noT

[vxlkt]

Me and the boys

[notquitecanon]

Familiarity & Whiskey // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon and Johnny get in a fight, which is how Simon crosses your path. Thinking your an easy mark for quick comfort and a quick fuck, he's not aware you're in the UK to meet your estranged father. Your circles running tighter with his than he thinks...

(Unedited)

Poor Simon can't catch a fucking break. Let this man nut and smoke a cigarette.

CW: feminine descriptions and pronouns used, alcohol consumption, making out, heavy petting, allusions to oral (male receiving), Simon's lowkey highkey manipulative, absent father!John Price, don't think too hard about age gaps i gave up

Request by: @i-live-in-spite

NSFW 18+ MDNI

"Go to hell, Riley. ‘S where ye fuckin’ belong." 

That had been Johnny’s direct words.

 Which was the first and only time Johnny had addressed by just his last name. Usually it was some irritating nickname, his callsign, or his rank delivered with the Scotsman’s usual bright eyes and mirth that somehow made it less annoying to Simon. And when it was his real name, in serious times, it was his first name, with a sincere look and genuine inflection. Never just ‘Riley’. 

But Johnny had spit his last name like it was a curse. Something that tasted bitter in his mouth, something poisonous. 

Hell, maybe it fucking was. And it had him craving something volatile- destructive. Alcohol, sex, a pack of cigarettes… and if he couldn’t get one of those to self-medicate this poisonous streak, he’d settle for bloodying his fists before the end of the night. 

A shit mission with a shit conclusion. A shit day. Fuck, a shit year.  Culminating in a clash between Lieutenant and Sergeant, Simon’s icy seething clashing Johnny’s explosive rage about a bad call made worse by Simon’s version of coping- cold indifference and colder jokes.  Actions had consequences, isn’t that what Simon always told his sergeant? Maybe that’s why Simon was stewing in the shitty pub close to base crawling with recruits after Gaz and Price had forcibly split up the confrontation right as it was about to get physical. 

Price had all but shoved him off base while Gaz took Soap somewhere to cool off- probably the gym or some equally shitty pub on opposite ends of the city. So there he was, sulking in a corner, nursing the only bourbon this bar offered, stewing over whether or not he needed to apologize.  

The thought of apologizing burned worse than the bottom shelf bourbon he was sipping. He was Ghost. The Ghost. He didn’t apologize. This was one of those times he would’ve actually appreciated Price’s usually unwarranted ’sage’ advice- but he was tied up, still on base and pissed off because he was trying to wrap up mission reports and now was cleaning up Simon’s mess. 

—

"Excuse me? Would it be ok if I sat here? I’m waiting for someone but the guys at the bar won’t leave me alone." You were biting your lip a little, trying your best not to look too awkward as you asked the tall, dark, and you assumed handsome but you couldn’t tell around the mask he was wearing. You felt nervous, but not to be talking to you, you were nervous for a laundry list of other reasons. Including and limited to meeting your father for the first time since you were barely three years old. 

When the pub had been suggested to you, you’d thought the closeness to his base was an advantage- casual, easy, public, nearby- what you hadn’t accounted for was the herds of young soldiers that would also be there.  Trying to buy yourself a drink to calm your nerves while you waited had resulted in four heinous pick up lines, three cocktail napkins with phone numbers scrawled on them, two vulgar gestures, and one marriage proposal. Like the 12 days of Christmas song, but from hell. The only place that wasn’t buzzing with sloshed young soldiers was a dark corner with an absolute behemoth of a masked man, two empties and a half drank tumbler of whiskey.  Despite (or perhaps because of) the nerves, jet lag, and shot of tequila you’d just took because of said nerves, you considered yourself something of a strategist. 

After you asked, narrowed amber eyes flicked up to you appraisingly, pinning you to your spot. Even slightly slouched over his drink, he was huge. Not just tall, but built like a brick house. He wasn’t wearing an actual military uniform, but everything about him just read military. He stared at you for a second, then a minutes, stretching into two. To your credit, you kept your chin high and your eyes level on his. Right as you started to say, "Never mind, sorry to bother-" 

" ’s fine." His voice was deep and kind of gravelly, low enough that his quiet tone was almost lost to the barroom chatter. His accent wasn’t one you’d heard before, a bit sharper and choppier than the accent John had on the phone. He scooted further into the booth, dragging his drink with him. As you turned back and slid into the corner booth, he scrutinized you again, like you were supposed to be familiar to him, "I know you?" 

"Doubt it." You smiled, a tight lipped but warm thing. You knew you didn’t know him considering this was the first time you’d set foot in this country. Not to mention you’d undoubtedly remember a character like this. So instead, you offered him your name and an outstretched hand. He nodded, neither returning the exchange or shaking your hand, just grunting to show he heard you. 

Still, he scanned you again. Simon was sure he’d never met you, but there was something about you that was eerily familiar. It was the feeling of someone’s name being on the tip of his tongue but slipping between thoughts before he could place it, or a song that as soon as he tried to think about it the melody slipped away. It wasn’t your physical features, as pretty of a bird as you were. That little smile, the way you carried yourself, the saunter in your walk, how your shoulder were held, the set of your jaw, you were young in the face but seemed older, the casual confidence so rare for someone your age… These were all things so familiar to him, but he couldn’t connect it to it’s match. Maybe it was the bourbon. 

"Y’not from ‘round here." He stated, and it wasn’t a question. Simon knew it as a fact. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why someone not from here would patronize a piss-poor pub like this, especially a bird like you- pretty and warm and put together. He rose an eyebrow that shifted the brow of his mask, "What brings you?" 

Blunt and to the point. Definitely military.  You leaned back against the booth, your finger tracing the glass rim of the wine glass you’d set down in front of you. White wine from a shit hole like this was one of the many clues that you didn’t belong here. 

"Meeting someone important." You answered vaguely with another one of those warm but tight smiles. Seriously, where did he know that from? "He’s late." 

"A date?" He pressed further with eyes that were somehow intense and disinterested at the same time. You couldn’t decide if his bluntness was a military quirk or social dysfunction, or possibly both. Of course he couldn’t know that this was the furthest thing from a date you could be doing tonight, which made you laugh, loudly and suddenly. The noise took Simon off guard, but not for it’s spontaneity or for how bright and beautiful it was , but because it tugged at that feeling a familiarity, bordering on nostalgia. 

"Oh, god no." You rushed, shaking your head and forming an X over your chest for good measure, still laughing a bit as you took a sip of wine. Still, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to describe John. "Not a date. I’m just meeting…. someone important." 

Simon doesn't know why this pleased him. Something about you being available and talking to him as opposed to the damnably flashy and obnoxious grunts wearing their dress uniforms to the pub on a fuckin’ Tuesday… Simon’s mouth quirked into a subtle smirk as he lifted his mask enough to take a sip of his bourbon, not missing how your too-familiar eyes followed the movement, intrigued and keen, “Who then?" 

"Nope, I’ve already answered, like, three questions. Your turn?" There was that casual confidence again as you turned the question on him with that little grin, legs cross under the table as your nails clicked against the sticky wood table, "What brings you here?" 

Simon’s expression under the mask soured again, eyes fixing on the lipstick stain on your wine glass. Pretty color… He wondered how it’d look smeared along his mouth. Or his cock. He shook that thought out of his head, bringing his eyes back to yours. Maybe it was the bourbon that loosened his tongue, or maybe those eyes of yours, “Got in a fight with a mate o’ mine. It was… suggested that we give each other some space.” 

‘Suggested' was nice was of saying Price manhandled him all the way to the guard station at the gate. Like a scolded dog being put outside. 

“So you’ve put yourself in the corner? Are you in timeout?” You quirked an eyebrow in another frustratingly familiar gesture, something that made him chuckle instead of bristle as you gestured to the dark corner he’d been lurking in. 

“Something like that.” He nodded, swirling the whiskey in his glass. 

“What was the fight about?” You asked casually, taking another sip of your wine. Normally so private, Simon would’ve bitten a stranger’s head off for such a personal question. But coming from you, between his desire to keep your attention on him and the ever present nagging sense of familiarity, he just sighed. 

“Hard week pushed some buttons. We’ve both got tempers. Mine’s worse.” He explanation was simple, both from characteristic standoffishness and the fact the mission that had provoked this fight had taken place in a country the British Military was not supposed to be. Another deep sigh like the confession took something wrenching from him, “He puts up with me usually, but I… said somethings’ I shouldn’t’ve.”

You nodded sagely, taking in the rather vague information with eyes settled on the far wall as if you were doing mental math, quiet deductions. He recognized this look from somewhere, this was the look of someone looking for answers and solutions. Your fingers tapped against the table again before your eyes slid back to him, “So you were both assholes to each other, but you were worse?” 

“Yeah. That’s the gist of it.” Simon scoffed as you boiled down his already barebones explanation even further. You nodded again, looking at him quizzically. 

“Have you thought about just apologizing?” You rose an eyebrow at him, your head cocking a little to the side. The most obvious answer in the world that for some reason he couldn’t wrap his hand around. He opened his mouth to protest, but you were quicker, voice chiding in way he’d heard before- but from where?, “No, let me guess, it’s not that simple, you can’t just apologize.” 

For a moment you dropped your voice a little lower and attmepted a half imitation of his Mancunian accent which would’ve been offensive if it wasn’t exactly what he was about to say. You huffed a quiet lap before returning to your normal tone with a roll of your eyes, “Believe me, yes, it is that simple, and, yes, you can just apologize. And if you truly think it’s not something an apology would fix, let him get one good hit in and get it out of your systems. Problem solved.” 

“Get it out of our systems?” Simon asked a little incredulously, despite the sampling of a sharp wit and the occasional hard glint to your eyes, he hadn’t expected someone as soft looking as you to jump to punching as a serious form of conflict resolution. Hell, you sounded more like his Captain Price than some random pretty thing in a pub, “that’s terrible advice.” 

“You telling me you would’ve seriously taken my apologize and talk it out advice?” Your eyebrows raised again as you leaned forward on your elbows onto the table- another frustratingly familiar look that would’ve distracted him if your now exposed cleavage didn’t distract him further. He swallowed as he stared, feeling the growing need to get something out of his system, and his fight with Johnny was becoming less and less forefront in his mind. 

“Not a chance.” He shook his head, sniper eyes locking in on the drop of wine that escaped your glass and slid between your breasts, quickly disappearing between skin and under your shirt. He could find it with his tongue, bet your skin made the wine sweeter… 

“Yeah,” You laughed again, setting down the empty glass, finding this intriguing masked character to be a wonderful distraction from the anxiety of this upcoming meeting. And if John was running late, you’d take advantage of the distraction, “Figured as much.” 

___

An hour and another glass of wine later, you’d continued to scoot closer to the masked man in the booth with you. He was first to initiate contact, throwing an arm over your shoulders in the pretense of keeping you close enough to hear over the rowdy group cheering on a rugby game, it was you who had leaned into his side. His hand had found your thigh first, but your nails were tracing little shapes and words against his forearm. 

“Who was it you were meetin' 'ere, sweetheart?” Simon asked again, his mask still rolled over his nose again as he took another sip of his bourbon, lips grazing your earring as his breath fanned over your neck. He wondered how you would react if his teeth tugged one of the pretty little earrings you’d picked out. You were distracted noticing how his accent minced certain letters in syllables in a delectable way, “Only a fool’d keep you waitin’ this long.” 

Two glasses of wine and jet lag had done away with your need for vague answers as you leaned into him, shivering as the smell of bourbon, cigarettes, and gunpowder started to overpower your perfume. You swallowed, eyes meeting his with a bit of nervousness he hadn’t been able to pick up on you until just now, “I’m meeting my father. We’ve been estranged most of my life. And he’s an hour and forty five late now.” 

“Shit.” Simon muttered under his breath, not thinking you could’ve said anything that could really surprise him. Meeting your estranged father and yet you’d spent the last two hours coaching and comforting him through a fight with his friend. That level of self sacrifice should’ve clued him into your parentage almost immediately, but he was busy staring at how your wide eyes were staring up at him through your lashes, teeth toying with the seam of your lips that your tongue kept darting out to wet. 

“I’m a little nervous.” You admitted, the nail that was tracing shapes on his forearm dropped down to his massive thigh to brace yourself. If you leaned any closer, you’d be all but in his lap- which wouldn’t be the worse thing, both of you mentally decided. You took a deep breath, sipping some of the water you’d ordered midway through your third glass of wine,  "A lot nervous, actually.” 

One thing about Simon, was that as a sniper, he was opportunistic. When he saw a shot, he took it. And you just lined him up to test his theory on how long it’d take to convince you to slip into the pub bathrooms with him. 

His arm around your shoulder adjusted so he could gently brush some hair behind your ear, thumb purposely grazing your cheekbone before he tilted your face up to meet his, “Well, you know the best way to get over your nerves?” 

The sudden closeness stunned any witty retort to silence as you hummed for him to continue, swallowing thickly in a way that brought those keenly sharp eyes to watch the bob of your throat. He chuckled lowly to himself, so sweet and perfect, he was about to absolutely ruin you. But he wasn’t evil, he’d put you back together again… 

“Gotta… work... it outta your system. Just like you said, sweetheart.”  His other hand was kneading into your thigh through the pretty satin of your skirt, such a good girl, with a skirt below your knees, and he looked forward to shredding those tights underneath with nothing but his teeth and bare hands. But… he wondered if he could make you cum through them before he ruined them, and with the way you tensed and then melted at his touch, he was betting the answer was a firm yes. “Gonna let me help you like you’ve been helping me?”

You thought he sure had a funny way of equating this heavy petting to the teasing and mild comfort you’d offered about his fight with this ‘Soap’ guy, but you nodded anyway. All the pent-up anxiety made it an eager motion as he chuckled, leaning forward and catching your mouth, so possessive and borderline aggressive at your compliance. He was a bit of a bully, using his bulk and his weight so you would bend underneath him like he was testing how hard he had to press for you to break, and when you whined at the feeling of him biting your lip, he only swallowed your sounds and laughed into your mouth. 

Lips smearing your pretty makeup, one hand tangling your hair into his finger and the other fisting your skirt so it started hiking up your legs, and one of his boots nudging your ankles out of their polite cross so he could start prying your thighs apart.  God, you were making out (bordering on hooking up) with a nameless, masked man with anger issues while you waited to meet your estranged father for basically the first time… What had your life come to? 

Actually, the absent father bit explained the masked stranger bit if you thought about it for more than three seconds. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ve gotta be taking the absolute piss, Simon.” A sudden and angry voice, familiar to both of you sounded from the front of your secluded little booth. You jumped back away from your paramour. Simon, apparently was his name, while he only turned in frustrated confusion at his captain interrupted him blowing off steam, just as he’d been instructed when Price all but kicked him off base for the night. 

Your eyes went wide in absolute mortification, like you’d melt under the table and just die there. Standing there, watching you sloppily make out with someone he apparently knew, was your father. John Price. Who hadn’t seen you since you were three years old and compulsively carried around a Kermit the frog stuffie everywhere you went… He looked older compared to your hazy memories of him and the singular picture your mother hadn’t burned, and the interesting facial hair only made him look older. You suspected he was capable of looking warm and kind, your mother always said you got his soft eyes and smile, but right now he looked pissed.

“Price?” Simon questioned, yanking his mask back over his mouth to hide the smears of his lipstick, wondering if this temper had something to do with the mission or with his fight with the sergeant and if so, why it was urgent enough to interrupt him right now. He’d noted how you went rigid underneath him, batting his hand out of the balmy soft canyon between your spread thighs before they clamped shut again. Shit, that door was rapidly closing...

You spoke at the same time as Simon, your voice somewhere between hesitant questioning and caught teenager, “Dad?” 

“Dad?” Simon immediately parroted, his respect for his Captain superseding the whiskey and lust as he peeled himself off of you quickly doing mental math Olympics to figure out genetics and age gaps, “Bloody Hell, John-“ 

You shrieked, as Simon didn’t get a chance to justify himself or even ask, how was I supposed to know the bird I was trying to fuck was your kid you’ve never told anyone about? Because your father’s face went red instantly, jumping across the booth and landing a scarily hard punch across Simon’s face, spilling wine and whiskey all over you in the process. 

So it was going to be a bloody knuckles kind of night, after all. 

____

Sorry I kinda changed up your request a little bit, I started writing and it kinda got away from me. I'm a slave to the little worm in my brain.

[elodieunderglass]

I'm not as familiar with LOTR as you are, so I wondered if you could tell me if my wild theory is completely off-base.

No one knows where the Hobbits came from, except that at some point they diverged from the line of men. No one knows much about the Entwives' appearance, but we do know that they fucked off a long time ago.

Could the Entwives have been dryad-ish and hooked up with the hobbits' ancestors and so be the foremothers of the hobbits?

Ah I think I saw that post! The concept has a lot of charm, and when the Tolkien estate loses its corpse-grip on the property in 2050 or so, I think you should write it and sell it 😤 I’ve definitely read some good takes on entwives in fanfiction that both leaned into canon and moved away, and I think that sounds like good fun to explore. A common theme in the fandom is playing with Yavanna, the Green Lady, being the mother or patron of hobbits. This isn’t canonical, but she’s a “green goddess” archetype and is married to Mahal/Aulë, the father of dwarves, which shippers often leverage to their advantage. You could do something quite charming there with Yavanna if you wanted to. We also know that Entwives loved gardens and orchards rather than forests.

Some things I would explore with this include:

what is going on with all these consistent ideas of people, races, women disappearing. We know that a lot of it is how Tolkien processed an almost OCD-like Catholic framing of “the fallen world is getting worse and can never be repaired”, war experiences, romanticism and other stuff stewing in his old man head. What are some ways you could show what’s stewing in your head? What does “people disappearing” mean to you? and why is it especially healing that they disappeared in order to make new families?

I think “they disappeared from their old kin and made new kin” is an interesting and weird thing worth wondering about!

- this would possibly make hobbits a more recent race than is implied. What does that mean to you?

- why are hobbits teeny tiny?

A very good starting point, that Terry Pratchett used a lot, is taking some grand statement in fantasy fiction, and making it reflect a different political reality. “Most dwarves are girls actually.” “Wizards parody academia, but, like, FOR REAL.”

I personally have a different take because of my own political feelings and framings! I have a lot of complex feelings about Tolkien chickening out of hobbits. For various political reasons I personally have to take the stance that they are fully human, fully indigenous, and have their own native language. and that their disappearance is less “teehee we lost them” or “O, the Catholic guilt of the Fallen World, how far we have fallen from the light of the two trees God’s sinless light” and a lot more “oh yeah I’ve seen THAT pattern before.”

If you have a political sort of lens on, someone telling you “yeah… hobbits came from nowhere 🤭 and then disappeared 🤷‍♀️ sad!” is a story that can also invite the response of “OHhhhh you wanted their LAND real bad, huh.” Like, we know what that means, right.

It’s a political stance for me. Hobbits have to be close enough to us to touch, and we have to be able to face that, and the fact that 5,000 media properties will chew on tolkienelves and sell them to you before even admitting to the 🤭 just makes it even more of a 🤨. To me.

…But I have literally just been elbow deep in my own demented fanfic thing that involves inventing a language just to swear in, to enable my standing on a box shouting HOBBITS OUGHT TO RESIST GOING EXTINCT ACTUALLY, based entirely on, I think, spite. Why do multiple authors publish orc football games (Terry Pratchett) and orc coffeeshops (Legends and Lattes guy) and do every damned thing with every bit of Tolkien’s corpse but refuse to look directly at hobbits. I am feral over this and wrote 59k words so far to damage and harm my friends

In conclusion I see a great story shape there about kindred and I think you should explore it and it should be about evolutionary biology and women and divorce and nobody being wrong.

And if anyone argues you with some podcast boy “well actually”, just bite them and do more character work and sit on their heads

[poisoned-fruit-prose]

𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

synop: you get frustrated when you realize viktor is making more progress than you on hextech.

wc: 1037.

includes: just fluff. reader is a secret mage, and their connection to magic inspired them to start developing hextech. reader and viktor are academic (and romantic) partners. lots of czech pet names. he loves you so much.

author's note: been writing a lot of fics relating to being viktor's "only one" (instead of jayce, though jayvik is still very close to my heart) as if they're memories he's looking back on. maybe this will be some sort of anthology series. hope you enjoy.

Your face scrunched up in the exact way Viktor recognized as your last straw. Before he could speak your name, you were already storming out of the lab, stray papers billowing behind you.

Viktor knew to let you cool off for a moment—the frustration of not understanding was unlike any anger comparable. It was self-deprecating, self-destructing, and the sole reason an institute such as the University was build to assuage. There was no point in consoling you before you were ready. You could read the writing on the wall. Viktor was going into territory you couldn’t follow; he was getting too advanced. You would either have to play catch-up or give up altogether. Both, in your mind, were options only for those who have lost.

Viktor gave you an hour. Well, forty minutes before he decided to get up—it took him twenty to make it to the garden he knew you were stewing in. Your form was predictably balled up beneath the swaying willow tree, the branches engulfed in golden light from the sunset.

He rested his cane against the trunk and grunted as he sat down beside you. He spared you the embarrassment of looking at you; he knew you hated how you looked when you cried. Instead, he looked out over the pond for a long moment.

“You know, I get frustrated too,” he murmured.

“Not over little things like this.” You sniffled. Your tears had long stopped, but you always seemed to have a stuffy nose for the rest of the day. And a godsdamned headache.

“No, admittedly not. But you know what I do get frustrated with?”

You didn’t move, didn’t speak. Viktor shrugged and spoke anyway.

“When you don’t see just how intelligent you are. Just because you cannot understand some of the technicalities of Hextech does not mean you are any less brilliant. You are two things, drahá. You are a scholar, and you are a mage.” He clicked his tongue. “And no matter how far we push Hextech, I cannot begin to fathom what you understand about the Arcane. There is a reason you are my partner on this, and a reason I want you as our guide.”

“Yet if anyone knew I was a mage, I’d be hunted down and killed.”

Viktor sighed. “Maybe not killed—but hunted, yes. That is why I also say you are a scholar. You do not put all your eggs in one basket. You aren’t just a being of magic. You are a perfect storm of words and ideas. You see things others cannot, write things others could only dream to dream of. I cannot let you go around thinking you are stupid when you are the one that conceived Hextech in the first place—the one I go to when I’m stuck and need a fresh perspective.”

“What good am I to the world with words and ideas? Everyone has words—it’s those who can make physical improvements that are the most lauded. You take my words and make with them. How could merely thinking of it compare?”

“That is preposterous, miláčku. Everyone may have words, but it is those who wield them with uncanny ability that give people like us a goal to work towards. Who would I be if you had never explained to me the possibilities of harnessing magic? Likely still following Heimerdinger around, an occasional project here and there—but now I have a hand in changing the world. Your words, your ideas, they are not separate of that. I have the ability to make fire, sure, but you have the ability to use it. You are the foundation of my work. I can only go where you have laid down a path. That is where you lack self-awareness. You are exceptional because your ideas are mixed with your smarts. You dream big, you conceive higher, yet you haven’t thought of anything impossible. Not yet.”

Viktor reached over and gently placed his hand atop your arm.

“And do not think that an award from the Council is the highest honor in life. You have done good for all of Runeterra—but for me especially. If I had the choice, I would shower you with accolades and statues, miláčku. You are an extraordinary thinker, an analytical mind, and a mage immune to the trivialities of academia.” His hand slid up to lift your chin, guiding your gaze back to him. “And you are not that far behind me in invention. Don’t let one problem destroy your vision and hope. You will work through it. You always do.”

You looked at him a long moment, then sighed as you laid your head atop his shoulder. He welcomed you, leaning equal weight against you and holding you still with a hand on your waist.

“...I’m sorry for storming out,” you murmured. “I know that was unprofessional.”

Viktor clicked his tongue. “Oh, please, do you think Jayce is professional?”

You both laughed softly. You sniffled again as you rested a hand atop his knee.

“I think… I’m frustrated, because I want to use magic to help you. And I keep failing. And without the documentation of magic before the Rune Wars, I feel like I’m grasping for a fly in a fog.”

“Don’t worry about me, lásko.”

“You know I can’t do that, Vik.” You nudged him, solemnly playful. “People like you are the reason I started trying to harness the Arcane.”

“Hextech is for everyone.”

“You aren’t included in that?”

Viktor sighed, then leaned up to press a kiss to your hair. “Of course. I just worry you tunnel vision because of me. I don’t want to be the reason you miss a breakthrough.”

“Breakthroughs that don’t lead to you getting better are useless to me.”

“But they are useful for everyone else.”

“Yes, but…” You gently squeezed his leg. Viktor used his free hand to take yours.

“I understand,” he murmured as he watched his fingers lace between yours. “We will both be just fine. Your concern is endearing, but it will cloud you in your studies. Make Hextech your top priority, and my health will be right there with it. And with me, lásko, always comes you.”

dividers used: clouds • scribble

[0hcicero]

So I just started reading A Court of Thorns and Roses (audiobook), and am I the only one who is wondering if the author did any research into poor subsistence living or the lives of peasants? Because wow, I know Feyre’s family used to be rich, but if that was 8 years ago and y’all are poor as dirt now, somehow in the intervening period you might have learned:

- trap lines in the winter are far superior to active hunting. It burns less calories, you can use it with fish and land animals, and it will save you from frostbite bc instead of sitting in a blind for hours, you can go to your lines at certain times and head home, or drive animals toward your lines.

- buying flower seeds - or any garden seeds - is a suckers game when you’re poor. You only really need to buy seeds once!! Once you harvest, you let stuff ‘go to seed’ and then you collect it and store it for the winter, often trading seeds with your neighbours.

- they let things actively RUN OUT before doing anything about it. That’s absolutely buckwild if you’ve ever been poor — when you’re poor, you know how to make a meal stretch, and you DO IT.

- there is hunting, but no gathering?? This family has not stored any veg for winter, but neither do they go gather mushrooms, rosehips, roots, tubers, nuts, or even fucking bark?? What happened to their cottage garden?? Was it just flowers?! Were they that rich that they don’t understand that a garden produces food? Did they close their eyes as they walked past all their peasant neighbours and their gardens? Bc that’s maybe the wildest thing I’ve seen from both a historical and a ‘grew up so close to dirt poor you couldn’t tell the difference’ perspective!

- She left a whole ass Giant wolf carcass when her family is starving. Nah nah nah no that is the universe smiling on you when you’re subsistence! You will make a travois or somehow find a way to tie that to you and drag it along - that’s double the food, and possibly more money, because you could live off the wolf (which I assume does not taste great) and sell off some of the deer (which is delicious).

- she didn’t at least do a basic clean of her kill out in the woods?! She did not tan the hides?! Y’all, you do not want to be cleaning any kill on the kitchen table. Why? Because cleaning involves removing the intestines and stomach. That means shit and piss and food digestion in different stages, and the gases produced. You do that *outside*, typically at least close to where you made your kill, because you don’t want to have to have any…spills, and because it makes things a bit lighter to carry. Butchering? For sure do it on a table, but cleaning is an outdoor chore. Also, tanning a hide is not just skinning a creature! It’s scraping all the membranes off it, stretching and drying it, and curing the skin - sometimes with smoke, but often with a pretty gross solution (often including brain oil, and historically, I believe urine and/or feces, and other things with the right chemical components). It’s not a simple or quick task!

- soups, pottages, stews, with dried lentils, beans, or peas would have been the staple meals (depending on the climate and environment, but it feels fairly British thus far). Just having roasted venison (def not the best way to eat venison just from taste alone) would likely be a very very rare occurrence, because, as noted earlier, they’re so poor they would need to make it stretch. You would cure it or dry it or turn it into sausage. You would use it sparingly within a meal, not to serve as the whole meal.

- the market. If you were poor, you would likely be a stranger to spices, but not to salt. Salt is deeply necessary to survive in that period, as it’s one of the only ways of safely processing and storing meat with any longevity. And? If you got the money that they did while being as poor and as starving as they were? The first thing you would do — even if you were the most stupid rich person before then — is stock up your stores of dry goods! Flour, salt, honey, dried beans/peas/lentils, vegetables that store - onions, squashes, potatoes, root vegetables like carrots. It’s straight up Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs here - you will not give a shit about a new cloak before you give a shit about saying your hunger. They are said to be ‘starving’. Sorting out your survival comes before sorting out your fashion.

Anyways, this has been me for channel 4, reporting on anachronisms and misrepresentations in fantasy fiction. More news at 10.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 4)

Cregan x reader

A/N: new character alert

word count: 1,202 words

Series Masterlist

“Ser Steffon won’t accompany me to Winterfell?” You ask your mother. It feels like another strike in the gut. Steffon Darklyn has guarded you since you were a child. Apart from your family, he is your closest friend.

“He is a part of my Queensguard. He must be with me or…” You know why she trails off. Her or her heir are the words she is looking for.

“Jacaerys.” You finish the thought for her and you hate the undertone of jealousy in your voice.

“You may take as many of your handmaidens as you like and we will find more than suitable guards for you. I would never allow you to be not well accompanied.” She is trying to be reassuring but it is to no avail.

“Then I shall have nobody to care for me in the North?” You regret the words as soon as you say them because you know what her response will be.

“Your husband will care for you.” It doesn’t make you feel better. You don’t want the demeaning care from a forced spouse. You desire care from the man who has been like a second father to you.

“I want Ser Steffon.” You say, your tone almost desperate.

“It wouldn’t be proper.”

Improper or a waste of resources? You wonder to yourself.

“You will be protected.” She reassures.

“It isn’t about that.” It’s about everything that is being torn away from you.

“Help me to understand, sweet girl.” She sounds just as desperate.

“Why did you have to send me so far away, far enough to isolate me?” You ask softly.

“I promise I thought your match through. Cregan gives you control. Putting you in the North gives you a role, not to be a tool to create an alliance, but to be a Targaryen presence so far from the throne. You will be in a position of great influence if you can gain your husband’s trust.” She seems serious but you aren’t sure if she is just trying to make you feel important when you aren’t. Though, it works. “If you wanted to stay close, we would have likely had to betroth you to Aemond.” You cringe at that. You were close to Aemond when the two of you were younger but there is such strife between you now. You’re sure he hates you. “He wouldn’t allow you the same level of freedom.”

“I know that.” You sigh. “I require a moment to collect myself, your Grace.” You give her a nod of respect before leaving, Ser Steffon trails after you. He knows what the topic of discussion was.

You let the tension stew in silence between the two of you before you decide to speak up. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

“You are a woman grown, princess. I know you will excel in Winterfell.” He says and you turn to face him.

“But i’ll miss you.”

“I am flattered deeply and truthfully, I will miss you also.” He says tenderly.

“Well then perhaps if you told the Queen you wished to accompany me…” You trail off, knowing your suggestion is silly.

“Princess…” He says in a certain way and you can sense the pity. “There is something that may make you feel better, though.”

“And that would be?”

“My nephew, Robert, has just recently been knighted. He is by no means a seasoned knight but I had a great influence in raising him when he was younger. He is a good man and a fearsome warrior. Mayhaps having him as a guard could bring you some sense of comfort?” Steffon suggests.

“That is a splendid idea. I should like to meet him. Now.” You reply, feeling almost happy at the prospect.

“Now? Of course, princess. I believe he is training in the courtyard.” He tells you and you immediately begin to make your way there.

When you arrive at the courtyard, you notice that there’s more than a few men training, Aemond and Criston included, who you ignore.

“Point him out.”

Steffon describes Robert and where he is but when your eyes fall upon him, the description doesn’t do justice. Robert is handsome, lean and strong with hair as black as tar and piercing green eyes. He fights with ease and elegance, not relying on brutish strength. You decide that he will be more than fun to have around. When Robert wins his fight, you clap for him. He notices the sound because he didn’t expect eyes to be on him when the dragon prince is fighting.

“Princess.” He bows as you walk over, his competitor stumbling into a bow as well.

“Your highness, I introduce you to my nephew, Ser Robert Darklyn.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ser Robert.” You say with a little smirk.

“The pleasure is, of course, all mine.” He is clearly trying to stay confident but you can detect a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“You are a very skilled fighter.” You haven’t seen much but you’ve already decided what you want. You trust Steffon’s judgement. “And I am in need of a new guard.”

“Thank you, princess. I appreciate the recognition.” He manages to stay cool and calm. He has an easy way about his demeanour.

“Have you ever been to Winterfell?” You ask him.

“I haven’t been anywhere.” He replies, a man in need of something to free him from the monotony of being a second son.

“Perhaps you would like to come with me to Winterfell then, as my personal guard?” You ask him bluntly.

“I am honoured by your offer, your highness. I would like nothing more than to protect you in your new home.” He can’t seem to stop himself from smiling. For a man who seemed to be so stoic, the smile suits him.

“Good because we leave in three days. I apologize for the short notice but I wasn’t given much time to prepare for this change of plans.” You give Ser Steffon a pointed look.

Robert Darklyn has little time to respond before you turn on your heel, wanting to make sure you have everything you need for your travels. As you walk back to your chambers, you strike up conversation with Steffon again.

“I expect you to write to me. Perhaps once a week. Just to be filled in on how my brothers fair of course.” You say to him but you both know that all you want is to hear from him as much as possible.

“I think twice a week would be more appropriate. Your brothers do get up to lots of mischief and whatnot.” He says with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I think that would be for the best as well.” You speak, a small smile on your face as you arrive at your chamber’s door. He holds it open for you. “Oh and one more thing, Ser… If I die in Robert’s care, I’ll kill you.” He smirks at that.

“He’s a much better knight than I was at his age. I promise the two of you will get along well.”

“Hmm.” You say, thinking about Ser Robert… very handsome Ser Robert. “I think we indeed will.”

Taglist(comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

Lord husband: @feyres-fireheart @possiblyafangirl @hb8301 @marihoneywk @youn-jo @velvet-spider @janelongxox @ninastyless @nyctophilic0vitnir r @m-a-s-h-k-a @delicious-xx @weepingfashionwritingplaid @happinessinthebeing @betelrus @joliettes @black-swan-blog27 @mxtokko @valeridarkness @karolalolla @satan-s-ass @synindoodles

[vidvana]

I know that nobody asked, but here's some Telvanni lore for all the foodies.

Before you begin this culinary journey, check out this post about ash yams it's essential.

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Telvanni Cuisine

It’s obvious that Telvanni have an extensive knowledge of fungi.  After all, they live in huge mushrooms and collect and plant numerous species from all across the Tamriel to use them in their potions. It goes without saying that their cuisine is also quite fungal. The commonfolk at Telvanni settlements as most of the Dunmer source their protein both from fungi* and insect meat. But Telvanni nobles love nurturing peculiar worldviews and traditions that differentiate them from other races - or even other Dunmer. One of them is their distaste for anything that doesn’t grow in soil. They frown upon hunter traditions of Ashlanders and stock-raising of house Redoran and regard them as “primitive” in contrast to the delicate art of growing fungi. The alchemy ingredients are an obvious exception from this rule, but in general as their occupations don’t usually include menial work, their light and low-calorie cuisine perfectly matches their lifestyle. This resulted in traditional cuisine of the nobility being solely plant-, or more specifically, mushroom-based**, that contrasts sharply with the cuisine of Skyrim that is rich in venison and other animal-based foods***. Noble Telvanni shun debilitating ingredients such as alcohol and moon sugar in their everyday cuisine, as keeping their minds sharp is their main priority. In order to get an indulgent sweet taste marshmerrow is used instead. Telvanni rarely import vast quantities of vegetables from other provinces as house Hlaalu does. They use commonly grown foods like saltrice, ash yams or mushrooms as the base ingredients of the dishes. In some aspects they prefer to stick to the Dunmer traditions. The nobles, though, indulge themselves in expensive imported berries - not only because of their magic-enhancing abilities but also because of their extravagant taste. As the Telvanni ranks feature numerous alchemists the import of alchemical ingredients is obviously very common. Telvanni chefs gradually incorporated some of the exotic spices into traditional cuisine. Especially valued are the most characterful of them that fancy up the bland taste of mushrooms, such as juniper, ginseng or garlic****. * In real life mushrooms are a rather poor source of protein compared to legumes like beans and lentil. But since there are no legumes in TES universe (at least as far as I know) let's suppose there are some protein-rich mushrooms Telvanni can plant. ** It’s also worth mentioning that I’m a Telvanni-fixated vegan ass myself so that’s a more probable reason why I made my beloved house also vegan xD *** A lovely example of that contrast you can encounter in @thana-topsy ‘s fanfic “Breathing Water”. This would nicely explain Neloth’s preference for apple cabbage stew. **** This recipe for example resembles Telvanni cuisine, it was one of the inspirations from my imaginary dishes above.

Above I’ve come up with some examples of what noble Telvanni would eat on a daily basis.

Thanks for reading that and take care :3

[thefirstknife]

Okay, this is it for Act I and now we have to stew for 20 days, I'm okay and not feeling abnormal at all (lie). But there's SO MUCH that I want to mention.

The mission starts normally, we're just collecting samples for Failsafe, but then Osiris calls us to come help him with Saint. And then shit hits the fan. Saint has apparently walked off alone into Nessus and isn't answering his comms. Normal and cool!

I'll go into the whole thing, under read more for length (long ass post, I'm having normal thoughts and feelings about this whole thing):

Right away, no more lake where we were fishing (only in the mission though):

Strange! The Vex appear to have let Saint pass through here without a fight. Once again, there's a mix of Vex in this area; some are normal Vex units with collars and some are Precursors without (the boss, the cyclops and the hobgoblins are Precursors):

The Precursors aren't collared, but they still participate in this and are also changed ("uplifted choral cyclops" = part of the chorus even without a yoke). This is incredibly strange. And then more strange information:

Okay!!! What is going on! We've seen in the last week's lore page that the Vex are behaving incredibly strangely. In short, they seem to be behaving more like individuals, rather than what we're used to seeing from them. This adds to that. They are developing tactics and changes that they previously weren't engaged with because, essentially, they didn't have to be.

Anyway, we get to finally hear Saint and he's... Talking to himself. About how he's not real. We find him collared and he appears to be hearing a voice talking to him; the voice is only identified as a "Conductor." At this point, I don't think there's any doubt about this being Maya. The same term was used by her in her experiments with the Veil: she needed someone to be a "conductor" to the "chorus" of minds when she was trying to merge fabricate consciousness (which she succeeded in with Lakshmi). Maya died in the "conductor's chair." What we don't know is ... Well. Anything else. What is she doing and why and what state is she in. The assumption right now is that she's using the Vex as a chorus, but why are they allowing this and why are some of them participating even without the collars? No clue.

What's interesting is that she seems to have analysed Saint and knew about him, either from her own analysis of him after observing him during our expeditions or from the Vex themselves. Or both. I suspect a combination of both because he's been involved with what we've been doing so she would've been interested to see why, and then she would've also gotten additional information from the Vex who recognise him. I would assume the Vex also had information about the rest of us, including Osiris and YW, but Saint was easiest to control.

With what she was telling him, it also means that Maya now knows how we saved him. His entire story is directly linked to the Vex and Vex technology so naturally all of this would be recorded with them and would allow Maya to find out about it. She knows that in some timelines he dies and he is saved in this one. She filled his head with the idea that he doesn't belong here, that he shouldn't have been saved. That he's an error that's "corrupting the true timeline."

As a sidenote, when you come into this room, Curse of Osiris music starts playing, again, as it has been playing for a lot of stuff this episode (specifically the Panoptes fight track). I'm super glad to hear that OST again. I'm also insane about them dropping Mercury music and Precursors at me.

Saint has more concerning lines:

And then we reach him:

Totally okay scene to see. Saint in his bubble, with a yoke, Vex arranged around him in their worshipping pose and the mysterious figures hovering above him. Saint continues:

Okay! *cries* He snaps out of it when Ikora reminds him of Osiris. Old man yaoi wins again!!

Then there's the conversation between Osiris, Saint, Ikora and Failsafe where Osiris is desperately trying to convince Saint that he's real and fine and that there's nothing wrong with him. I crode.... Man, they really said "you WILL watch these old men lovingly put hands on each other." But also, Saint confirms that he just heard a voice speaking to him on Nessus and that he couldn't do anything except obey its commands. It wasn't a Vex; Saint describes it as something that "connected to his mind" and called itself the "Conductor."

Failsafe pointed out that the Vex and Exo share radiolaria as a "base material" and that the Vex were perhaps trying to interface with Saint for information about what we're doing. But Saint said that they did not care about that at all. Instead, they "measured" Saint's "humanity" and "legitimacy."

Osiris does his best to convince him otherwise:

Bro. I am crying in the club what the fuck. Osiris had access to other Saints, but he didn't want to mess with them. He wanted to save the Saint he knew. It was the whole deal with the Sundial being so specific to find "the right moment" and "the right Saint" to save him and why it didn't work for Osiris, because of the paradox with the Young Wolf.

Ikora points out that this is all just a tactic against us and Saint does seem to understand that, and Osiris' reassurances, but it's still difficult to deal with. Saint has previously already dealt with the feelings of not being sure if anything he's experiencing is real. He's spent decades in the Infinite Forest surrounded by simulations. It's a hard thing to adjust to, especially with all he's been through since.

He'll need time to process this. He needs to be alone.

Failsafe is normal about it:

You and me too bestie!

But wait! There's more! We still have the radio message which is between Osiris and Ikora talking about the changes to Nessus and the Vex. It's naturally Osiris' way to distract himself from the issues with Saint, but also we really do need to keep researching what's going on so he's got a good idea. Nessus is "changing rapidly" according to Osiris, "moreso than when the Vex first assimilated it, if Red War records can be trusted." Osiris also notes that this isn't just limited to Nessus, but to everything, including our data and the radiolaria that we collected. They're "mutating."

This bit in particular is important and concerning because that's just not how the Vex do things. As Osiris said, when they change, they change because they have time shenanigans so they essentially gather data in the future and transmit it back, then alter themselves from the past, to appear as if they were always that way. But now? They're adapting "in real time." They learn linearly and adapt on the go.

This is bizarre with the utilisation of Precursors because they are the past Vex. However, they do not have the collars so they're not directly "compelled" and yet, they still participate and change alongside all of the other collared Vex. They also send their minds, again, not collared, to control the collared Vex and lead them. This is baffling.

Ikora is linking this to the impact of the anomaly, the echo. While Saint was down there, Geppetto mapped some of it, including the radiolaria around the site; apparently, the Vex are "swirling around the impact site for miles below the surface." It's also "causing disturbances in the planet's EM field." Ikora concludes that the Vex must be doing "something big."

Osiris also mentions the importance of Saint saying that it was a singular voice directing him, not a collective one, like a Vex would be. He reminds us that this isn't how Vex do things usually and this thing with Saint was just a test. He speculates, and Ikora agrees, that the Vex behaviour is like this because they found "a new leader." Obviously, the Conductor.

That concludes Act I. The seasonal activity, Breach Executable, has new lines as well. I've only played one, got some more sad Saint lines and then had to pause to stop crying. Act II starts in 20 days.

But wait. There's MORE! Of course we can't forget the seasonal lore page. And this is also where they went straight for the jugular. The lore page is about Mithrax visiting Saint and finding him not feeling well. Saint is distressed and Mithrax is trying to help him feel better, especially about his feelings of not belonging. Mithrax understands those feelings and he's trying his best to help Saint not feel that way. A little bit of joy in the gloom:

Saint groaned and waved the question away. "Do not say something smart to me now. Osiris does this, and I have had enough of it."

I LOVE when Saint compares Osiris and Mithrax, it's so good and also funny. But anyway, let's get back to the pain. As Saint realises where Mithrax is going with his questions, he relents and accepts that yes, sometimes we feel like we don't belong, but that is clearly not true.

And then Mithrax experiences something strange:

Suddenly, his vision narrowed and darkened. His headache shrieked, filling his mind with blinding pain. He doubled over as a terrifying urge—RULE, KELL—roared through his chest. The pigeons burst away in harried flight, leaving the seed untouched on the ground. Saint was still watching the pigeons wheel through the sky and down into the City. Mithrax wrapped his arms around himself until the shaking subsided and took a deep draw of Ether. "You are good friend," Saint said quietly, his gaze fixed on the City. Mithrax walked over slowly and sat down next to him again. "I try," he said softly.

Hello? Okay. So on top of Saint having massive issues, we're still seeding the future plot of something getting absolutely the fuck worse with Mithrax. Cool. Cool. I'm jumping off a bridge.

And Mithrax doesn't tell Saint about this, obviously. Saint is preoccupied with his own problems now and this is the way of Titan; care for others first, then yourself. Mithax should NOT be copying this from Saint, but alas. Enjoy brewing in this little piece of terrifying information until we get more on it next episode, I presume.

But wait. There's EVEN MORE! For finishing Act I, we got another lore page, from another lore book called Dynasty. We had no clue what this would be until now.

And well. It's a completely separate story from ancient past, about the Qugu civilisation. This is an incredibly packed lore page, one of the longest I've seen to be honest and it features a lot of bizarre alien stuff from an ancient civilisation, but the gist of it, for now until I can truly dive into it; it follows a member of the Qugu species as he's rising in the ranks to become a military leader. The Qugu are ancient civilisation we first learned about in the Books of Sorrow, as they were wiped out by the Hive. We got an update on them in Inspiral, telling us they were Darkness users, utilising the psychic abilities to connect each other's consciousnesses and talk to their ancestors.

In this page, we see some stuff about their culture, their connection to the creatures they're in symbiosis with, the way their civilisation worked in regards to how they ruled and how many planets they occupied. It's a fascinating read, but fairly hard to get through. The page ends with the Qugu discovering the Hive and the Black Fleet that attacked one of their systems and they try to get back to warn the others. I assume the rest of the book will be about the Qugu as well, to further flesh out this plot.

Why this now? I am unsure. Possible setup for something going forward down the line? One other idea I've had is that this will somehow relate to the "ally" of Maya we speculated about when I talked about the lore pages from the seasonal exotic gear. It makes sense that this "ally" is an alien because of Maya mentioning his fascinating origin, culture and biology. This would also explain why we got this lore book for finishing Act I, as it would make it relevant to what's going on. But this is, for now, a really big speculation. We'll need more pages, which I assume we'll get for finishing other Acts, so good look not exploding in curiosity until then (I've already exploded). I'll most certainly analyse this lore page more in-depth because there is NOTHING in this world I am more interested than digging into ancient space civilisations.

[agentstarkid]

NEPENTHE ✦ DR3

NEPENTHE, a term rooted in Greek mythology, refers to a legendary potion believed to dispel sorrow and induce forgetfulness of pain. This concept has evolved to symbolize anything that eases suffering and promotes emotional healing. When applied to love and post-heartbreak, nepenthe can be seen as a metaphor for the various ways people cope with the pain of lost love. This could include time, new relationships, self-discovery, or therapeutic activities that help one heal. Just as nepenthe provided mythical relief, these modern "potions" help individuals gradually let go of their heartache and find happiness again.

✦ PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ PIT BOARD: social media au | ✦ FC: becky g

✦ TRACK LIMITS: female!reader, latina!reader, age gap, language, drama, internet meanies.

✦ MAY'S RADIO: holi, loves! sorry for the long wait, adult life is a bitch. Hope y'all like this chapter because I'm not fully convinced I like it yet lol if there's any mistake...it's 02:21 a.m. and I'm dead on my feet but I was set on posting this today. If you've been playing attention to my easter eggs, you'd have seen this coming 😜 Pretty please tell me your thoughts!! I’ve been stewing on this for like two months so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Feeds me!! Also, shoutout to Nonnie!!! can't wait to read what you think of this 🙊❤️ Anyways, eat up, babes.

< previous chapter | series masterlist | general masterlist

JULY 1, 2022

⇥ tiktok search: y/n l/n sings devuélveme el corazón

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JULY 15, 2022

⥂ translation:

- Hey, friend! How are you? + Kuniii! What a surprise! I'm good, and you? What have you been up to? - Everything is fine here in Miami, enjoying a little bit of the sun. Listen, we haven't seen each other in a while. Aug 7 is City's first game of the season at the Etihad and I was invited. With Sofi we thought about taking you with us, so are you in? + Sounds great, Kuni! I've never been to the Etihad. But I don't know. Lately, things hasn't been going well for me with all the negative attention. I'm not sure if being in the public eye would be for the best. - I get it, Y/N. But c'mon, you should come! We'll be in a private box, far away from the paparazzis. No one is gonna bother you there, I promise. Besides, Sofi and I are gonna make you have a great time! + I don't know, Kun. To be honest, more drama is the last thing I want. - That's why I'm telling you this. It will be good for you to have a change of scenery, enjoy a good game and be with friends! And, we miss you. Sofi is already planning a great day for you. You can't let people's opinions to affect you like that. You have to live your life and enjoy it. Come with us, it will do you good. + To be fair, I do need a break. I'm gonna think about it and I'll give you my answer soon! - There's nothing to think about, Y/N! Come with us and let's have a spectacular weekend. Sofi and I are gonna take care of you and make sure you have a great time! + Ok ok, alright. I'm going! It's gonna be great seeing you and Sofi again. What should I bring? - Awesome! Just bring good vibes, a crazy desire to have a good time and something blue to support City. You come to Miami and and we leave in the jet, is that alright? We will coordinate better later. + Oki! I'm already excited! Thank you, Kuni. I really needed this! - That's what friends are for! I promise you that it will be very good for you! See you soon! + See you soon! Thank you for everything!

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JULY 29, 2022

liked by lewishamilton, daddyyankee, thalia and 2,145,873 others

yourinstagram que digan lo que sea, yo subo y bajo como la marea 🌊✨🧿

⥂ translation: let them say whatever, I rise and fall like the tide 🌊✨🧿

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View all 2.952.512 comments

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fioamato Se tratan de montar y tambalean 🎶🐸☕

itsvittoriasousa Muchos la critican sin conocerla 💅🏼 iamdannaschwarz Se merece tanto y recibe tan poco 😤 andrew_allen Calle como un Civic, inteligente como un Tesla 🚗 sebastianyatra Mírala cómo camina, lo que le falta es la tarima 👀 yourinstagram No pidas rosas si no aguantas espinas!! 🥀

sebastianyatra q hdptaaa fiesta con la familyyyy 🫠🩵

llane ah con que así son las cosas, acá ya a uno no lo invitan 🙄 (⥂ translation: ah so that's how it is, here's someone who doesn't get invited)

rickymontaner brother somos dos 🙄 (⥂ translation: brother same) sebastianyatra conozco unos manes que no contestan el gc 🙄 (⥂ translation: i know some guys who don't answer the gc) ricardomontaner mau y ricky + llane + sebas + y/n = peligro por donde lo mires 😂❤️ (⥂ translation: danger wherever you look at it) yourinstagram ricardomontaner pero like in the best way, tío 😝❤️

user i absolutely love how her friends are singing the lyrics of bad bunny's song in the comments 😂

userA user even Vitto's bf commented too 😂 userB user they are really specific lyrics tho 🙊

user2 Daniel can't really outrun her, can he? 😂

soficalzetti divina! te extraño 💕

user3 is that HamilGOAT???

badbunnypr Y/N, sé tú y que se mame' un bicho las personas ❤️

yourinstagram ❤️🤘🏽

user4 Andrea is honestly my fav BB song 😭

user5 not me trying to zoom in to read those 🔥 lyrics bc ya know my girl is cooking the baddest album in history 😎

user7 I tried to like this twice once I saw that first photo DAMN 😮

user8 first pic is giving mermaid baddie/H2O vibes

user9 my boy DR fumbled hard 😵‍💫 wdym he just woke up one day next to this woman and decided he wanted smth else??? like ??? bro u ok????? 🤯

lewishamilton surfing ✅📋 next time we are sky diving sis 🪂

yourintagram time and place I'll be there brother 😛 roscoelovescoco can you's take me's with you's?

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AUGUST 7, 2022

Instagram

yourinstagram has added to their story!

⥂ translation 1: Going to a game with Kun is having a sports commentator explaining every play and probability, and who is who on the field.

⥂ translation 2: The boy is happy with the result of the match.

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yourinstagram has followed rubendias!

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AUGUST 18, 2022

liked by honeymoon, danielricciardo, rubendias and 3,145,873 others

yourinstagram Happi happi ⭐️ note to self: you da bidi bidi bom bom ✨

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user DANIEL LIKED!!!!!! MY DAN-YN HEART ❤️😭

userA Mom and Dad; Divorced but never forgotten 😭🖐 userB girl don't, he's not welcome here 😤 userC does this means he agrees she was too much of a bad bitch for his weak ass to handle? 🤣

user2 stay 🤺 the fuck 🤺 away 🤺 you 🤺 unemployed driver 🤺

userA unemployed driver is cold. it's not even official yet buddy userB lmao her replacement better not see his like on our queen's photos 😂 userC homie must be hiding somewhere and crying staring at these photos because she looks 🔥🔥🔥

user3 Literally the love of my life. She's so cute and energetic

user4 you deserve real happiness and loyalty...Don't you ever settle!

juliamichaels hot DAMN

camila_cabello hot DIGGITY DAMN

user5 I'm so glad Daniel dumped her 🗿

beberexha ok hottie!! ❤️🔥

lizzo Everyone STOP TALKING I'm trying to stare at Y/N

blakelively Absolutely fking stunning wowowow

yourinstagram let me hit u with the uno reverse card

user6 this may sound cheesy but you're literally one of the prettiest women I've ever seen 💕

yourinstagram user5 that's so unbelievably kind

sza FACE CARD NEVER DECLINES

user7 i'm single you single... let's make it happen 😍

iamdannaschwarz we live for that smile

user8 such an attention seeker 🤡 because she ain't getting that man back in this life lol

user she is so obsessed with him i swear she's pathetic yourinstagram I don't really care what you think of me because first of all, if you really don't like me, what are you guys doing wasting your time on my page? tell me who's obsessed with who?

user9 Why not? 😭

userA i think when mfs bag a baddie they dont kno how to act right 😭 im not sure sum like that userB userA correct and when they do get a girl like that they leave her for way less userC Lmaoooo frr

user queen is in her idgaf era and I'm fucking here for it!!!

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AUGUST 22, 2022

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AUGUST 24, 2022

liked by fioamato and 1,147,693 others

f1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo will leave McLaren at the end of the 2022 season

#F1 #Formula1 mclaren

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user See you later 👏👏

user2 that's called karma

user3 Only McLaren? Why not f1? The queu of young talented drivers is long

user4 So sad that they decided only bet to Lando. All best to Daniel I wish you find better place.

user5 I’m glad I never bought an orange shirt… where are we off to next Dan?

user6 LMAO NOT FIO LIKING THIS POST 🤣

userA that's iconic behavior ngl

user7 and you all were calling y/n a flop, oh how the tables have turned lmaooooo

user8 man lost the greatest woman he could've pulled and now he lost his seat and all in the same year 🤡

user9 mclaren you know this is the best guy you have right? It's not his fault your car is inconsistent. This is not 2021 where you had your car figured out.....this is a bad pr piece for you as well as a bad marketing look since danielricciardo has a look far beyond what your brand reach is. Fire your marketing team as they have failed you...

user10 $21 million going away present?

user11 Honestly Vettel said it best “mclaren didn’t bring the best out of him” I just hope he gets a place in 2023 and does well

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SEPTEMBER 11, 2022

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SEPTEMBER 21, 2022

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OCTOBER 6, 2022

⥂ translation:

— salmahayek Happy birthday, my precious girl! You are a light in the lives of everyone who knows you. I'm here for you always! — jbalvin Happy birthday, lil sis. Many blessings to you always! — sebastianyatra Happy birthday, Penguin! I keep your friendship like a treasure that will always be with me. I feel lucky to know that big heart you have. I love you a lot, Pulga (Flea)!

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liked by rubendias, aliciakeys, alejandrosanz and 2,756,378 others

yourinstagram Thank you 23, you taught me so much. You brought me so much courage, inspiration, & healing. You reminded me that life is too short. You have brought me even closer to my true self & made me realize just how strong I am. I will remember you as the year that reminded me that living life on anyone else’s terms isn’t living… You taught me to do ME, with grace, love, and kindness. Thank you to everyone who wished me a Happy Birthday, I love you all. And, of course, a very special thank you to my favorite people in the 🌍 for going above and beyond to make me feel so loved, appreciated, & cared for. Bienvenido 24, un placer conocerte 🥳 ps: had lots of cakes this year, I couldn't be happier!! 😍

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natalie_pinkham Happiest of birthdays to the most gorgeous of gals ❤️🥳🥂🎉

yourinstagram natalie_pinkham thank you Nat! Lots of love ❤️❤️

nina ❤️❤️❤️

parishilton happy birthday angel girl ❤️

bohnes happy birthday rockstar 🎉

markhoppus HDB kid 💥

annemarie Make a wish! 🎂✨ Hope all your birthday dreams come true ❤️

lilymhe You are such a beautiful soul, inside and out, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life ❤️

luisfonsi Wishing you an amazing day and a year full of blessings. ¡Un fuerte abrazo!

keleighteller You bring so much joy and light into the lives of everyone around you ✨

anitta feliz aniversário, meu amor! Beijos! 💖

shawnmendes Hope your day is as incredible as you are ❤️ Keep shining! 🌟

daddyyankee ¡Feliz cumpleaños, Y/N! Espero que tengas un día espectacular y un año lleno de éxitos

jenniferaniston Wishing you a day filled with joy, love, and all your favorite things. Have an amazing year ahead! 💖✨

tomholland2013 Happy Birthday, Y/N! 🎉🎂

sofiavergara ¡Feliz cumpleaños, Y/N! Que tengas un día maravilloso lleno de amor y alegría 💃🏻✨

zacefron Have a fantastic day and an even better year. Enjoy every moment! 💫

niallhoran happy birthday 🍻

selenagomez Happy Birthday angel! 🎉 Sending you lots of love and positive vibes on your special day ❤️

kellinquinn Happy Birthday, Y/N! Rock on and have an amazing day!

kellyclarkson May your day be filled with love, laughter, and everything you desire. Cheers to you! 💖✨

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NOVEMBER 3, 2022

liked by rubendias, landonorris, juliaanalvarez and 2,145,873 others

yourinstagram He(art)

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sasha__rebecca 💙

itsvittoriasousa i like it, picasso

chloestroll what a gorgeous piece of art and the picasso is cute ig

user NOOOOOO WE CANT LOSE OUR MOTHER TO ANOTHER FOOTBALLER

juliaanalvarez 😎🆒

user2 I admire Y/N’s faith in love, no matter how many times she’s heartbroken and let down she still falls in love like it’s the very first time and I think this is how it should be because every single love and relationship is different and unique and should be approached as such

user agree. especially because she's not actually the crazy, guy obsessed girl the media and haters paint her as. she's falling in love when it makes sense, she's not out searching for whirlwind romances and toxic guys. she writes about it bc it's REAL anyway i hope she finds her person one day. first loves lasting forever is nice but isn't possible for most people and that's fine. i think her healthy approach is a great influence on her younger fans who fantasise about love and life just like she did

user3 girlie sure loves her athletes lmao

userA she sure loves the number 3 🤪 userB she once said it was her lucky number and apparently she was really serious about that 🤣

user4 alexa play you belong with me (taylor's version) by taylor swift 😠

user5 watch her ruin him like she ruined daniel

user6 this girl is trying so hard to stay relevant lmao bitch you are a gold digging whore and a massive flop, doesn't matter whose dick you're riding now 🤣

user7 when do we think they're hard launching we already know it's rúben 😂

userA she played the same game with mr. perfectly fine the last time userB MR PERFECTLY FINE OMG YOU'RE SO RIGHT "Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl. I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her" IS SO DANIEL CODED userC ruben literally posted the same picture on his ig 😂 inconspicuousness left the chat with these two

user8 babygirl decided to stop playing in little league, she's on the big leagues now as she fucking should

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liked by johnstones5, joaofelix79, nathanake and 322,873 others

rubendias life's been good lately 😊

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user who got my boy listening to sleeping at last?

user2 Bro is winning on and off pitch

user3 i still can't believe rúben dias liked every picture she posted for years and also admitted his massive crush for her with his whole chest in a team video and ended up being y/n l/n's boyfriend a few months later

userA bro is the picture of perseverance. He played the long game and at the end, he got the girl 😎 userB he's my GOAT for a reason userC they don't make 'em like him anymore (a total simp for his girl)

jackgrealish alright romeo 🙄😂🩵

johnstones5 kunaguero 🤝🏻

kunaguero johnstones5 🤝🏻

user4 best defender in the world only deserves the best! 🧱

nathanake 🩵

user5 they are not even trying to hide it anymore

user6 Ru we are on the doorstep of the world cup you can't lose your focus with another pop star

userA she's definitely gonna bring him bad luck, everything she touches turns to ashes

user7 "But your heart is your masterpiece, and I'll keep it safe" THIS MOTHERFUCKER BETTER BE SERIOUS 😭

user "Your darkness will be rewritten into a work of fiction, you'll see" 😭😭 userA I'm really wishing that he's the one for her. She deserves a happy ending

user8 YOU WERE BLESSED WITH MOTHER'S HEART SO YOU BETTER PROTECT IT THROUGH THICK AND THIN, VOCÊ ENTENDE? 🤨🤺

♥ rubendias has liked this comment

user9 Mofo better keep his focus we need that 🏆!!!!

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DECEMBER 31, 2022

liked by rubendias, natalie_pinkham, shawnmendes and 2,145,873 others

yourinstagram A student of life I am. Damn it’s humbling as hell when you surrender to the fact that only thing you can control is YOURSELF. Not a person, thing or situation beyond that. Who you become in this life is 100% on you. Letting go of all that doesn’t serve you is self-care. Remember that.

2022 is a year that really marked me… It was filled with moments of all kinds. Wanted to share the ones that made me smile even in the hardest of times. Beyond thankful for the good, the bad and the ugly ❤️‍🩹

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marcusstoinis was the paint supposed to go on the wall or on yourself? 😂 scottyjames31

scottyjames31 don't talk if you don't know about art bro 🤫👨🏼‍🎨 yourinstagram marcusstoinis the technique was questionable but the painter did a good job. His partner on the other hand did a marvelous job ❤️ would recommend their job if you are moving into a new house too 👍🏽 cholestroll 😂❤️

lewishamilton see you soon for the next aventure sis 😎🪂

tinistoessel te adoro muñeca 💖

andrew_allen we might have the next Alex Morgan in our hands 😮‍💨

itsvittoriasousa she said she wants to be a champ like "unca benny" 😅 yourinstagram itsvittoriasousa nah I think she said she /wants/ unca benny, little trouble gave me the stink eye whenever I got too close and didn't let me play 😂 andrew_allen 😅

user i guess it is official official now so welcome to the family dad rubendias

user2 pics 5, 6 & 9 called me single in too many different languages 😭

user3 IZA IS GETTING SO BIG!!!!

user4 sunglasses on, hand behing her back... baby iza means business

user5 OMG IT'S ED!!! ARE U GUYS COLLABING AGAIN???!!! 😭😍

user6 I really hope next year she is as active on sm as she was before, I miss her too much 🥺

user7 shut up they are the fucking cutest couple already 😍

user8 this is what she deserves!! looots of love and someone who knows how to treat a queen right

rubendias Mô ❤️

userA EEEEEEEEEEKKK!!! 😍😭😍😭 userB any portuguese or brazilian kind enough to tell us what he means? 😩 userC It's an informal abbreviation of "amor" (love), he is calling her love ❤️

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[puzzled-pegasus]

wof headcanons but theyre oddly food and substance related for some reason

Although I understand why Tui didn't include very much info abt alchohol or drugs in a kids book there is an extreme lack of culinary related world building so here are some ideas I had while on this train of thought :)

SeaWings tend to be foodies and are generally given cooking classes in school. Which if you think about it, is rather important, because like 60 percent of the creatures in the ocean are poisonous and the rest have parasites and nasty germs so they need to know whats up when it comes to food safety.

SeaWings use a lot of citrus in their food and drinks and they also use it for fragrances and stuff they just really like it

SeaWing nobles commonly eat fugu and there have been assassinations where a chef was bribed to not properly take out the poison so the dragon eating it would die

SeaWings drink to taste. SkyWings drink to forget what century it is.

SkyWings typically eat their meat raw but on special occasions they will barbecue it and put some spices n stuff on it. They don't eat much else besides meat but they do like spicy things like peppers and they also like strong onion or garlic flavors. The little masochists. Anyway,

SkyWings don't really like sweet things and many of them can't even taste them so they're like wtf is a dessert

man do they love them some olives tho. Olives everywhere. In their drink. Out of the jar. On their meat. Oil on their scales. Oil in their hygiene products. They started trading them from the Sand and SeaWings millennia ago but theyve selectively bred ones that grow in the mountains

This one's more drugs than food but SkyWings will sometimes take some kind of stimulant before battle like a beserker so they're all fired up heheh

MudWings are excellent meal preparers and sibs like to all cook together so they'll make a big pot of stew or something

They like bread and desserts, they have easy access to sugar cane being along the east coast and they also use a lot of honey. They're re into canning stuff too, they have a lot of raspberries and blackberries and strawberries in their temperate forest areas and they grow them to make jam and wine and they use honey to make mead

basically they are Cottagecore(TM) and I love them

They also eat lots of freshwater fish and crawfish and whatnot

And they also eat a lot of tatoes

Vanilla grows in the swamps, they use that in their cakes

MudWings deserve some appreciation goddamnit their kingdom is biologically diverse and beautiful

SandWings have tequila because. Yknow. Cactus.

They eat a lot of bugs and lizards, they don't really need to eat every day so it's not a huge deal

they do like coconuts tho and they use coconut oil in a lot of their hygiene products as well as in their cooking

They deep fry a lot of shit. Idk where i got this but trust me. They love things with lots of fat in it bc they need all they can get

Really sticky sweet desserts and candy; enjoyers of those one lollipops with the mealworms or whatever tf in them

also canning stuff like bone broth is very important

pickled cactus as well

rhey probably have a festival when cactus fruit goes in season

what even is IceWing cuisine.

Well way up north where there's nothing but ice it's pretty bad and the dragons have to eat just plain ass meat and seafood, but down into the tundras there's some pretty good stuff like cinnamon, pines for tea, honey berries, and other foraging as well as more diversity of meats

They would probably eat sushi

All the other tribes like to make fun of them and rightfully so bc their food is so plain

they make good honey berry wine tho

Maube that's why theyre so damn grumpy

RainWings are expert foragers ofc but they don't really feel the need to prepare their food in any way

They are, however, in constant dire need of sodium because they get absolutely none from their fruit

So anything salty is wow

Maybe rhey have a place near the mud kingdom border where they can grow some asparagus for salt

they are also the only tribe besides Night that can eat chocolate but forgor 💀 how to make it so the NightWings and them have to re figure it out together

Salted dark chocolate bing bang boom instant delicacy

NightWings used to be able to cook really well, especially desserts and pastry, but they forgor while they were trying to not die on the volcano

[mariacallous]

Offal, aka organ meats, are about to make a comeback. Yes, I predict that brains, livers, spleens, tongues and testicles will feature heavily on the menus of Israel’s (and the diaspora’s Jewish/Israeli-style) hottest eateries by this time next year — if they aren’t already. Why? Because young chefs are increasingly inspired by traditional Jewish dishes, driving a return-to-roots style of cooking. And these old-school classics are notably innard-heavy.

Offal is an oxymoron; it’s both a poor-person food, which is why it was so popular in the shtetl, and a celebratory food, eaten on Shabbat and festivals. Many Sephardic cultures consider it a delicacy. Read on and decide for yourself.

Let’s start with an old Ashkenazi classic: chopped liver. While for me, it will always be in style, many of my contemporaries don’t feel the same. Luckily, young Jewish chefs have already set their sights on it, and may well have the power to convert millennial diners. Take Anthony Rose’s recipe in “The Last Schmaltz,” which sears the livers, then deglazes the pan with arak before blending, serving the chopped liver with thyme-scented caramelized onions.

Another well-known offal dish is the Jerusalem mixed grill. Made with chicken giblets and lamb parts, and seasoned with onion, garlic, black pepper, cumin, turmeric and coriander, this classic street food is believed to have originated sometime between 1960-1970 at one of two (now feuding) restaurants in Jerusalem’s Machaneh Yehuda Market. While the Jerusalem grill is far younger than most Jewish offal dishes, it originated in a similar way: Butchers had a surplus of unwanted offal so they sold it off cheaply, then some savvy chefs turned the offal into a desirable dish. The mixed grill was one of the first offal dishes to receive multiple modern makeovers. At his restaurant Rovi, Yotam Ottolenghi adds baharat onions and pickles, while Michael Solomonov included a Jerusalem grill-Southern dirty rice hybrid in “Israeli Soul.“

Of course, this is not the first dish based around grilled offal; Tunisian Jews liked to throw a selection of lamb or veal innards onto the grill, which they called mechoui d’abats, and Baghdadi Jews sought a similar smokiness, which they achieved by cooking chicken livers on the tandoor.

Roman Jews preferred their offal battered and fried, rather than grilled. Few know that their famed carciofi alla giudia (deep-fried artichokes) was often served alongside fried sweetbreads, livers, and — most notably — brains. North Africa’s Sephardi communities loved their brains, too, commonly serving them in an omelet called a meguina or menina on festive occasions. Meir Adoni referenced this love in his brain fricassee — a North African-French fusion dish of veal brains inside a croissant with harissa and preserved lemon — at his New York restaurant Nur.

Offal was also commonly used to add a depth of flavor to a soup or stew. Yemenite Jews — one of the few communities who continue to cook traditional offal dishes — make a soup with bulls’ penis and cows’ udders, while Eastern European Jews, particularly of Polish descent, continue to add kishke  — a sausage made of stuffed beef intestine — to their weekly Shabbat cholent. A slow-cooked stew called akod is one of the better-known dishes of Tunisian Jewish cuisine, where tripe flavored with cumin, garlic, harissa and tomato paste is the star of the show. Moroccan Jews eat a similar dish on Passover, which ditches the tomato paste but adds liver, heart, and beef dumplings.

Admittedly, there are some offal-based dishes that may find it trickier to stage a comeback. Ptcha – an aspic that reached its height of popularity in shtetl-era Ashkenazi communities — is arguably top of the list. However, it’s not without hope; ptcha was actually born in Turkey in the 14th century as a peasant soup made with lamb’s feet, served hot. This, I’d wager, is a more palatable gateway (it’s basically bone broth) to the Eastern European version, which opts for calves’ feet and allows the soup to cool and set into a jelly, thanks to the gelatin in the hooves.

It only takes one dish to change your view of offal from weird and unappetizing to tasty and versatile. If livers, brains and tripe were good enough for our ancestors, not to mention famed chefs, who are we to turn up our noses? Happy eating!

[themonotonysyndrome]

Castin Hammer Headcanons

While writing my newest fic, I suddenly realised that I had yet to actually write up headcanons purely of Castin as a character. Huh. So here are just some headcanons that I sprinkled into my fic series and just my take on the character~

LET'S BEGIN!

Due to Desmond being able to play the piano, so does Castin! He learns by ear instead of having any formal classes and can now play several songs! Before he chooses the lingerie, he briefly contemplates serenading the Baroness as a gift, but the thought of him playing the piano and singing in public would ruin his 'mainly warrior' reputation, so he immediately dismisses the idea.

There's a piano room in the manor dedicated just for him once Castin confesses. If he's not in the mood for wine, you can hear music coming from somewhere in the manor as he unwinds for the night.

An Ambivert. He likes hanging out with Rhett and can quickly be the life of the party, but afterwards, you ain't gonna see this man outside of his home for at least 2 days.

He's a switch, though he leans more as a service top. The thought of eating the Baroness out for hours on end is enough to make him come in his pants dsnjfndskfsdfs.

He comes from a modest family where money is never really tight, but the Hammers never spend it on luxury goods. Because of that, it was a whiplash for Castin when he realised that he married into wealth. It took him a really long time to accept the Baroness spoiling him with jewellery, clothes & stuffs.

Castin only knew about his father via photos that his mother kept because he was lost at sea when Castin was very young. After becoming a father, he sometimes thinks about his lack of one and worries it might affect him in raising his child(ren).

His favourite colour is orange because it reminds him of hearths and how his Ma used to read him stories nearby, and no amount of Fire Ascendants could take that away from him.

We know that he compared himself to Rhett when they were growing up from his Prologue chapter but he's also lowkey jealous of Lilia of how quick she is to make friends with the other village kids - boys and girls alike while he was always the awkward one.

Had a journal as a boy where he wrote down his life plans. Entries include: Be a badass warrior by 25, Own a brown horse and name it Brownie, buy Ma a house and make sure she retires before 50 & etc.

He hates the colour gold because he thinks it's overrated, lol.

Speaking of hate, he LOATHES horror movies. Castin just can't stand jump scares and the tension that comes with it.

In a modern high school au, he would be a jock, and how he would meet the Baroness is via tutoring at the behest of a teacher to push his grades up.

Castin would absolutely bawl over that one scene where Chihiro and Haku let go of their hands near the finale of the Spirited Away.

Castin has the unfortunate habit of looking at things in a tunnel vision - detailed, yes, but also very narrowed and only in the present. Hence, the reason why he's bad at trying to understand the Baroness' point of view during his Chapter 5 audio.

When his popularity rose as a warrior, and people slowly realised how good-looking he is, Castin became the unfortunate object to be won by young ladies from various backgrounds. To stop the in-fighting, the ladies agreed to take turns dating him for 2-3 months before they had to break up with him so the next girl could take her turn with him. Castin was utterly oblivious to their game until the Baroness caught wind of it. (Amnesia fans, anyone?)

His favourite dish is vegetable stew, and he looks forward to it every Winter.

Never really see the appeal in tattoos until he marries the Baroness. After that, he wanted to carry something of his wife on him at all times - especially when he had to go back to the frontlines - hence, her name across his heart.

His version of a perfect date sparring with his men while the Baroness cheers him on. Afterward, they would go to a restaurant and wine and dine with her. Then, claiming his desserts in the bedroom~

In the modern au, he's an Android user while the Baroness uses an iPhone. Expect him to constantly text, "Babe, would you still love me if I was a worm? 🥺" constantly to the Baroness.

Castin absolutely loves dad puns, so expect him to go all out once their kid(s) is born!

In the modern AU, his hobbies would be LEGO building and playing rugby with Rhett and the other boys. He likes dragging the Baroness to the stands so she can watch him. The cheerleaders are always jealous whenever he does so.

Speaking of modern AU, his favourite artists are Beyonce, Chris Grey and Mariah Carey.

[another-lost-mc]

I have an idea what about Raphael eats one of Solomons dishes but Solomon did something to the food causing Raphael acting very strange like he blurts out stuff he normally wouldn't say like

Mc: *does something stupid and ends up falling down*

Raphael: *chuckles* you're such a cute idiot *immediately slaps his hand over his mouth*

everyone else in the room (including mc): *stares at him with concerns*

BUT it gets better or worse if mc alone with him like gets all touchy even if it leads to sex he doesn't act like himself this happens multiple times over the course of weeks making everyone confused while Raphael tries to understand why he's acting like until once he ate solomom food again he goes back to normal but solomom now has bandages and black eye

Oooh I like this! The implications this would have with Raphael already being in an established relationship are interesting to think about too. Going off in a slightly different direction with this one, but bear with me.

[RAPHAEL x gn!Reader, 1.5k words, nsfw. Content warnings: suggestive and sexual content.]

I could see Solomon’s cooking having unintended consequences. He’s too amused to care about trying to pinpoint what went wrong or how to fix it (so long as the side effects aren’t too severe).

Raphael eats the stew that Solomon made, and it tastes like all the other things the sorcerer has fed him (delicious), but it isn’t until later at RAD that the others start to suspect something might be wrong.

“You’re all invited to have lunch with Lord Diavolo tomorrow,” Barbatos said in the cafeteria. You were eating lunch with the angels today since the others were busy with student council business.

Luke nearly bounced in his chair with excitement. “Can we try that new brownie recipe too?”

Barbatos smiled at the young angel. “I’ve already secured the ingredients, and Simeon has agreed to bring you ahead of the others so we have time to make them.” He turned to you and added, “Of course, I’ll also brew that special blend of tea you enjoy so much.”

You loved his tea, but you missed Raphael’s frown when you beamed happily at the butler. “I’m looking forward to it, thank you.”

Raphael stabbed at something on his plate with his fork. “I don’t understand why,” he said between bites of his lunch, “his tea’s not that good.”

Everyone turned to him, startled and confused by the unexpected comment. Even Barbatos looked stunned for a moment, and a flicker of anger passed over his expression before he offered Raphael a tight-lipped smile that looked completely fake. “I shall do my best to meet your exceptionally high standards,” he said with a stiff bow before he walked away.

“Raph? Are you okay?” You scrutinized his expression, but he looked confused by your concern.

“Of course I am,” he said, because why wouldn’t he be okay? He continued eating like nothing happened, but he shuffled his chair just a bit closer to yours so your thighs touched under the table.

What everyone pieces together is that something is causing him to be a more honest, unfiltered version of himself. He’s more candid with his opinions and feelings and thoughts, especially when it comes to you.

Mammon plopped down into the seat next to yours, but you glanced at the doorway and back to him again. “Raphael should be here any moment,” you warned him, because the angel normally sat beside you at these group events and Mammon knew that.

But he scoffed and leaned back in the chair with a grin. “Yeah, well maybe he should’ve been here sooner then—“ Mammon started to say, but he yelped when his chair was suddenly pulled away from the table.

Raphael tipped the chair forward so Mammon slid off the seat onto the dining room floor with an oof. The angel tucked the chair next to yours and sat down himself, staring at the demon like he dared him to say about it.

You patted Raphael’s hand gently, and you weren’t sure whether to feel bad for Mammon or be shocked by Raphael’s behaviour. “Was that really necessary?” you asked him with an amused smile.

Raphael turned to you and the icy annoyance he showed Mammon moments ago thawed into warm affection. “He was in my seat,” he said as he took your hand in his and brought it to his mouth, tickling the backs of your fingers slightly when he hummed against your skin.

Without the censor tempering his thoughts and softening his tongue, Raphael’s language is more abrasive—crude, even. It feels almost like dirty talk, the way he weaves curses into his speech so easily now. You know it’s not a ruse or exaggeration, but simply a side of himself he normally hides from the world. You can pretend it doesn’t turn you on, but it’s difficult to keep that up for long when it affects him just as much.

It was half-time during Beel's Fangol game, and most of your friends dispersed from the stands to get more drinks and snacks. You noticed Raphael was fidgeting a lot during the game, playing with his arm sleeves and grumbling under his breath. You were here to support Beel moreso than your personal enjoyment of the game, and you assumed it was the same for him too.

You figured some fresh air away from the crowd would help his spirits, so you didn't protest when he grabbed your hand and led you down the steps to ground level. Confusion set in when he kept walking past the concession stands towards RAD, which was deserted this time of night.

"What's wrong?" you asked when you tried to keep up with his long strides. "The game's not over yet."

He glanced at you over his shoulder. "I know," he said, gaze flicking down somewhere around your chest level before he looked ahead again. "But I don't think I can wait anymore."

He led you around the corner of the courtyard and you bumped into him when he stopped walking suddenly. "Can't wait for what?" you asked, but instead of answering, he backed you up against the stone building and slid his arms around your waist.

"You're so lovely in this shirt," he said thickly as his hands slid up under the shirt hem and tickled your sides. "And I don't want to wait until the after-party to fuck you in it." He leaned forward and his nose grazed your jaw, and he tilted your head back gently before he placed biting kisses up along the delicate column of your throat

You grasped his shirt and tried to to think through the heat shooting through your belly every time his lips sucked another little mark into your skin. What he said didn't make sense; how could a shirt have this effect on him?

But then you remembered an off-handed comment he made shortly after you bought it a few months ago. He stared at you for a moment before turning away, mumbling something about, "that's a good colour on you." Since his compliments were sometimes rare and subdued, it still made you feel giddy with praise. Was this what he really feels every time he sees you wearing something he likes?

One of his hands groped the curve of your ass as he arched your body against his, and the other slipped down the front of your pants. He quickly derailed your thoughts about why this was happening. Instead, you succumbed to his tantalizing kisses against your skin, the filthy promises he whispered in your ear, and his deft fingers stroking the arousal between your legs.

Eventually the effects of Solomon's food fade away, and Raphael's temperament slowly returns to something like before, but not quite the same either. He's not as blunt with his criticisms and displeasure about things, and he's not as forthcoming in conversations he really wants no part of.

However, he's still more open than he used to be, more honest about things that matter to him. Mostly, he's more honest with you than anyone else, no matter the circumstances.

He braced himself on the carpet beside your head, and his other hand was curled around your hip. You rested your forehead on your arm to keep the carpet from rubbing unpleasantly against your skin every time a rough snap of his hips jerked you forward.

You're still not sure how you ended up on all fours on Raphael's bedroom floor, but it hardly mattered now. All you could think of was the coil deep inside that burned with need, the one that tightened with each greedy pump of his cock inside you, and the way he seemed to fill you so perfectly like no one else could.

Words escaped you as you moaned and whimpered and keened against your arm. You could hear his uttered curses behind you over the soft, wet sounds your bodies made.

"Fuck, you feel so good around my cock," he panted erratically, a sign he was close to coming undone.

The hand pulling your hip to meet his thrusts fell away. He fisted the hem of your shirt instead, and you felt his nails scratch lightly against your back. "You wore this shirt on purpose, didn't you?"

Your face burned at how easily he saw through your ploy. Perhaps you had new motivations to wear things in that particular colour he liked so much.

"M-maybe," you admitted breathlessly. You liked wearing clothes that reminded you of the evening he fucked you against the rough stone wall of RAD, while the cheers from the Fangol pitch drowned out the sinful noises you both made.

He smacked your ass—not hard, but enough to make you yelp in surprise. You moaned when he leaned forward and pressed against your back so he could reach your arousal between your legs, and he stroked you quickly in time with the sloppy rhythm of his hips.

The tingling sensation and his hand spreading your wetness to drive you over the edge was too much. You buried your cry in your arm, and he grew still behind you as hot warmth seeped inside you and trickled down your thighs.

He maneuvered you both onto the floor, his arm wrapped around you with his cock still buried deep inside. He panted against your temple and kissed you. "I love you," he murmured into your ear.

There were still things he didn't say often, feelings he had trouble expressing without some sorcerer's concoction loosening his tongue, but you basked in his quiet honesty and loving touches, because no matter what he did or didn't say, you still knew him better than anyone else.

Taglist: @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @xpixie @tortibomb

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[readychilledwine]

what do you think prythian's food is like? Like how does the food differ in each court? Which one is known for spicier food? Or meat centric or veggie centric food? Summer would probably have more seafood right?

The Food of Prythian Headcanons

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol. While this is food based, it is based on the vibes of what I felt the culture of each court would be like in comparison to real places in our world. Some of these may be discussion worthy. We handle that in polite ways. Also, Liz thirsting over Helion's thighs.

A/N - The gif had to be Anime food. No cooking show makes ya girl hungry like anime food does. Welcome to the beginning of the requests being queue. Some of you have waited a very long time for me to get out of my funk. I cannot thank you all enough for that.

Spring-

Spring in my opinion would be French style foods. Why? Because of how SJM described the molten chocolate Feyre had.

I imagine Spring to have fresh ingredients that, combined with meats, make light but filling meals and vibrate plates.

I see Tamlin as the cheese board kind of guy. I think Spring would be filled with different cheeses from around the map and lands and people capable of telling you all about them and proper pairings.

Wine. I know we hear about wine a lot in Night, but I will never drop the headcanon that Spring is 7 course meals with different wine pairs as the meal progresses

Overall, I imagine Spring to be filled with dishes that are focused on fresh and quality. I think they'd have a wide variety of options for meats and game.

Ps, edible flowers. They garnish plates with edible flowers

Summer-

Hear me out, I think Summer would be a combination of Hispanic and Latin foods

Summer is seafood heavy, no doubt. Fresh catches served after flavorful preparations.

Summer isn't afraid of seasoning. Nor spice. I think in terms of getting your spicy food fix, Summer is your best options.

Access to fresh fish and summertime thriving fruits such as limes and lemons, naturally Ceviche is a very common dish to be served and a traditional welcome meal for guests.

Pazole would also be right up there with the incorporation of fresh peppers and produce to make it flavorful and impactful.

Alcohol pairings in summer also include fruity mixes. Tarquin is a margarita on the rocks baddie. I will die on that hill.

Autumn-

I'm hiding from how controversial this one might be. I was torn with Autumn because of how Eris and Lucien are written. I think the Forest House with the High Lord and his family do not eat traditional Autumn cuisine and try to separate themselves. So, for Autumn, I am torn but will be focusing on my gut instinct.

Autumn is English and Irish cuisines. Hearty beef stews, bangers and mash, Yorkshire pudding. Meals in Autumn are warm, heavy, and meant to be fulfilling at a price point that even the lowest income families can pull off. Spoiler, I 100% think Lucien and Eris are throwing down bangers and mash. Why? Because it feels right.

Breakfasts tend to have a variety on the plate. Eggs and sausage served over beans was an immediate one that came to mind for me.

I think game meat is also very common in Autumn, but farming is the primary meat source. Cattle, boar, and sheep would make up the majority of dishes with chicken being a last choice.

I think fish is potentially common in Autumn, but they are tinned fish central. And let's not bash tinned fish. You can do a lot with it and create meals for a fairly decent price.

Autumn is spiked cider country. Apples grown so rapidly here that they had to find a way to work them into their drinks. Mother bless the barmaid who asked for some rum and said to hold her mead. Apples since have been worked into whiskey, wine, vodka, and whatever else they could sell. Cinnamon apple whiskey is a personal favorite of Eris's. I asked him myself.

Winter-

Winter to me has very Slavic vibes. With it being so bittery cold, though, I imagine their diets are filled with soups and very heavy stews.

Winter is a season that would struggle with produce and with how I picture trade systems working in Prythian, I'll bluntly say it, Winter is the pickled everything part of Prythian.

Pickled fish, vegetables, and olives are all very common ingredients in meals and as snacks.

Root vegetables such as onions, garlic, and potatoes are featured in every meal. They're known to grow in harsh environments, and paired together can be a great base to a meal.

Game meat is common here. Venison, elk and some options that we may less commonly think of such as bear, fox, wild big cats, and rabbit

Drinks wise, like the foods, it is about warmth. Mulled wines, warm ciders, anything to keep their hands warm and bellies full.

Dawn-

It would have been far too easy to argue Dawn is 24/7 breakfast, but I think Thesan is very into cuisine that touched the homelands of his Court's population.

Dawn is heavily leaning to Japanese and Asian styled foods. Bright dishes, bold flavor, and full of experiments and experiences. I don't think there is a dull meal in Dawn.

Dawn is filled with brothy soups centering around rich cuts of meat, different styles of noodles, and an ever rotating flavor profile as seasons change.

Seafood is common in Dawn, but they're open to trying any form of proteins. Eggs are a favorite.

I think meals in Dawn vary from you feeling heavy and ready for a nap afterward to something light and refreshing. I think this variation comes with seasons and availability to ingredients.

Dawn is drinking a variety of things. Hard liquor with touches of fruit, hearty beers, plum based wines, and teas. Dawn is filled with variety in the beverages, all paired perfectly to compliment meals.

Day-

Helion and the Day Court had to be a Mediterranean diet. I won't apologize. She can't describe thigh daddy as wearing white togas, snake arm bands, and not expect me to decide he serves me my favorite cuisine post... thigh admiration.

I also feel this works well with the Day Court due to me picturing it as a similar situation where the days reach high grueling temperatures and Nights are made for dancing under the moonlight in anticipation of getting to see morning break and the sun begin to rise.

The Day Court is light meals during the day hours that center heavily around fruits, vegetables, and seafood kissed with notes of citrus. Nights are slightly heavier with touches of beef and lamb joining in.

Hummus. There's various hummus bowls at every meal, and each one is a different layer of flavor or spice. Helion ensures they are served with a variety of root vegetables, pita breads, or falafel.

Drinking is common, but beers are not. Even beverages are kept light in Day. Of all the courts, though, I feel the Day Court is heavily pushing water intake.

Night-

Full discretion. I wanted to break the Night Court into Velaris, Hewn City, and Illyria. Due to tumblr LIMITING MY CREATIVITY (jerks) i am focusing on Velaris.

Have you ever wanted to make love to your food or make love because of your food? If so, "Welcome to the Night Court."

I think Velaris doesn't necessarily have a region of food from our world, but instead, it is a melting pot due to the variety of citizens and walks of life there. One thing is always true, though, artistic expression is worked into food.

Velaris is known for gorgeous plates, high end cuts of meats, and things being extra. It is common to see edible gold leaf in Velaris.

Proteins wise, I think due to the melting pot, there isn't a common or most popular choice. Venison, beef, lamb, chicken, and seafood are all common. I do think Velaris leans towards roasted vegetables, though. Roasting them can bring out flavor and, most importantly, color. I heavily believe presentation is key here.

Chocolate dipprd fruits are a favorite, but dipped figs with a touch of sea salt are a go to dessert.

Wines. Prepare for wines with every turn. Full bodied reds, crisp whites, flirty rosé, and oh so bubbly champagne.

In short, food in Velaris is meant to make you feel something, to push boundaries and flavor palette, and to fill your tummy.

[hewantshisbrideback]

No Honor Among Thieves Snippets

As proof that I am working on this fic, and it is not dead in the water, I thought I would post some snippets of what I've got in my drafts! I've been hopping back and forth between chapters, and it's been slow going in part, also, because of real life things, including deaths and job changes and moving residencies, and that's about to get even busier, but as consolation to everyone who's been patient and a show of gratitude to those who have encouraged me, here's some bits and pieces as a teaser for what's coming (eventually).

There are excerpts from nine different NHAT chapters below: Jon II-V, Arya II-V, and Sansa II. Hope you like them, and please let me know if you do! I could really use the encouragement right now.

ARYA II

There was no man alive more of a frustration to Arya than Gendry.

The last time she’d laid eyes on the man, he’d been burrowed deep in the smithy at Harrenhal, chest bare and red and slick with sweat, beating a flurry of sparks so bright from the iron she’d had to turn away at risk of being blinded. Hadn’t said a word, even when she’d gone so far as to ask him nicely. How hot her own cheeks had burned at the humiliation, to plead for a kind word of farewell and receive not so much as a glimpse, not so much as a breath between swings of his hammer.

The last time he had deigned to look her in the eye, the night before her departure, he had called her a fool and a liar.

By now, part of her might’ve agreed. However, most of her was angry, still, too angry to waste precious time contemplating the hows and whys of Gendry Waters. Where would she even begin, if she tried? No, wiser to side-step thoughts of him entirely, a tactic which had panned out perfectly for Arya thus far. Of course, his absence had been a prerequisite for such success.

JON II

Arya did not arrive on time for supper. Jon stabbed a steady, mindless rhythm into the slab, metal puncturing meat. Squish. Bubble. Splatter - the prongs of his fork stuck in its side over and over. He couldn’t recall the last time the meat had beaten her to the table.

But why should he be upset? It was just a meal. He was not alone. The hall was not empty, nor the table. Even if the chair beside him was. Even if there was no one in his ear or at his arm. There was no reason he should be upset. Arya had not arrived on time for supper. What was there to be upset about?

Everything, he scoffed to himself. Suspicion bubbled in him like stew in a cauldron. The quiet murmuring from the hall, deceptively lax, like the hinge of a trap not yet sprung. The careful, docile expressions of her siblings. The extra horses in the stable. The greater quality of meat assembled. The lateness of a princess.

She wouldn’t leave without telling him. He knew that. But she wouldn’t stay without seeing him either. He found his glaring eyes drifting over to their kin, scrutinizing. Certainly, it was not suspicious, he reasoned to himself, that none of her siblings had acknowledged her absence, but neither was it... not suspicious.

ARYA III

When Jaqen's face had darkened the door of her lodging, she had not flinched. She'd ran forward, no words to spare and expecting none in return, sword raised to his neck. But he'd only stepped back in turn, and raised his hands in surrender, offering his throat, if that is what she wanted, laying his life at her disposal either way. She'd scoffed but, damn her curiosity, she'd let him continue, though she would not rest her blade, for even if he spoke like a man, moved like a man, and told her things that only a man could know, she knew better than to think that she could trust this Jaqen to be her Jaqen, or that hers was any worth accepting in the first place.

It had not been until Jaqen had disappeared entirely that she'd cocked her head and let her Needle fall, not to her side, but turning and trailing down, from the edge at his neck to the tip at his belly.

The face of the Kindly Man had looked more dead than she remembered.

The moment understanding had lit her eyes, a man had raised his hand, and Jaqen had returned before her. He had remained ever since, his face familiar. Somehow both a gesture of peace and a warning.

JON III

There was one place, though, where Jon had been more welcomed than Robb - at Arya’s side. It had been that way the moment she was born and their father had set her in his arms. Brown hair, dark eyes, a small scowl that transformed into a burbling laugh at his touch. From that moment, he had been determined to be so loving a companion, so warm a haven, that if nothing else, she would have no choice but to think him good, to think him hers. The gods had clearly sent her for him, or perhaps put him there for her, after all. She looked his kin more than their brother or her mother both.

And when Lady Catelyn’s nervous fingers had pried her daughter’s fist from his thumb and wrested her from his grasp, he'd reckoned he was not the only one who noticed. She would never speak of it to him if she did, of course, but she did not have to. The dread and jealousy in her eyes screamed without reserve, every time Arya toddled after him or shrieked his name in delight or showered him with kisses, all of which she did for him far more often than she did for any of her full-blooded siblings, or her spiteful Tully mother.

The only person in the family he may ever have come second to in her eyes was their father. But then Jon had given her a gift even Ned would never dared, had loved her in a way that he was too much of a lord and a husband and a grown-up to conceive. He never stopped giving thanks that she had sneaked out of lessons that fateful day, that conversation on the rampart, gazing down at the full-blooded boys clumsily swinging about. Her grousing, her keening envy, had given him that sword, planted it in his brain, and that sword had saved her, delivered her home. Where would she be without it?

ARYA IV

It spread out across her bed like a quilt, black as the night, lined with white fur and fixed with a red garnet clasp. Something tasted strange in the back of Arya’s throat at the sight of it. She furrowed her brow at the dark fabric, and the black ribbons tying off the ends of her braids.

"What's wrong?"

"What?" Arya blinked back innocently, but it was too late.

"You look almost ill." Jeyne ventured as she reached around and threaded the cloak through the gaps between Arya's arms. "Does it not fit right? We had it adjusted just yesterday."

"It fits fine," Arya replied quickly. The other girl looked unconvinced as she closed the clasp at the base of her neck, just under a high collar embroidered with a thick trim of white branches and leaves a burning red. Arya pretended not to notice her, eyes trained on how the bright weirwood colors stood out against the gentle gray, and beside the Braavosi tan that lingered still on the back of her hands.

JON IV

Jon had imagined himself like this when he was a boy: sat at the head of a high table above the room, with lords grandstanding and grovelling before him. Granted, he had not picture two silver-haired conquerors beside him, nor crowns atop any heads, let alone his own. Likely that was why some of those noble heads of houses wore such shakier smiles than he'd pictured, as if they stood before three great beasts, why others were so rigid they almost looked in pain. Perhaps they thought bowing before a bastard king was beneath them, that might be it. But what did it matter? Their knees still bent.

He had gotten used to being in big chairs, in front of the room, as a commander, but those chairs had been wood, and those rooms had been cramped, low ceilings and long rows of tables and benches. He was hardly used to playing prince in a metal-wrought throne, raised up for all to see at the center of a big cavern of brick and tapestry, music lilting and colors flashing across gleaming smooth floors. These walls were not built to retain heat. He was not used to the exposure, to the echoing. It did not seem a place for whispers.

ARYA V

Arya furrowed her brows, reached out to touch his shoulders, nearly as amused by his distress as she was exasperated. "Ser Dayne has promised himself in service of the queen, as a representative of the council. Even if he was in love with me, as you imagine, it would be ill-fated. He'd hardly have the time to court me between his travels across the bloody continent."

Jon scoffed at her assertions. "You are inexperienced in these matters." It was a dark and bitter laugh that escapes him then. "You are - you are borderline naive. Vows may strip you of your past, as may distance and time, but love remains. If ever true, it remains." His voice was hastening, as if he could not stop the words from pouring out. "And what is to stop him from serving the queen and demanding you as repayment for such loyal service?"

"Jon, you've served with the man," she insisted, bewildered. "You know him! He's a good man! You think him capable of such a thing? He would never. Especially if he was in love with me."

And at that, Jon went quiet, cringing back, face turning to stone, as if her words had been an insult, rather than a reassurance. He did not respond right away, steadying his breath.

SANSA II

But Arya was Sansa's sister, too, and she would not be made to quiet so easily, tears rising in her eyes. "You have no idea what you speak of at such length. Day and night, ever since the war ended, my mind has swarmed with worries, for her sake. Spinning with them, so much it feels I've lost my head completely!"

“Oh, well, I know where your head is at. The Sword of the Morning and the Night Wolf, what a song they’d make!" He snarled. "But Arya’s life is not a song, and I will not have you write her into one."

The accusation was as bizarre as it was strangely hurtful, her ears burning and throat closing up. She stammered, hand pressed to her chest in appall, but Jon was hardly pausing, let alone taking the time to justify his needling words.

"Lament as many of your own weddings as you will, whether or not you include the current to the stunted, lumbering beast responsible for much of your own sister's suffering, but I will not let your mistakes and your resentments give her cause to regret her own!"

Sansa's hand was in the air before she could even register her own intentions, but Jon saw her hooked fingers and splayed palm coming in time to step back, leaving his jaw clipped rather than claw marks across his face.

JON V

He bent to make their eyes level, clutching her face between his palms. "Don't listen to her." He growled, nearly into her mouth, then snapped back around to bare his teeth at the trespasser. "You… Get out. Go. Into the night. Disappear, before I deliver your ashes unto your god myself!"

Arya didn't even glance away from her cousin as the woman obeyed, too fixed upon his furious, spitting visage. "Is it true?" A note of hurt slipped in and she scrambled to rein it back. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jon's vision was black at the corners as he turned back to her, as if the world was fading into shadow, sunk into despair, a spotlight on his beloved's paling face and probing gaze. "It was not… You know I would never lie to you." He had not lied. He clung to that fact. He had not lied with his words, only kept to himself what he feared she would not understand, or worse, understand and hold against him.

"But you did not tell me, when you should have," she snaps, hand rising to her temple, as if she could press the turmoil from her head. "Why? Why did you hide it from me?"

"I did not hide it from you!" He insists, grip tightening, voice vacillating between dismissive, desperate, and dangerous. He could not let her speculate further. "I have hid nothing! That woman is trying to drive a wedge between us. The gods know why, but you cannot let her."

♡♡♡♡

All of these excerpts are on their first or second edit, as well, so I'm sure things will change eventually. Again, thanks so much for reading, and please, please interact if you liked it!

[posttexasstressdisorder]

My Kitchen Table Caucus

I thought I'd make this a reference post of what I do in order to make the best decision I can, every single time I vote. If it helps explain the process better to someone who has never voted, or has never been an "in-depth voter", (ie: researching each candidate and proposition and making an INFORMED DECISION based on all information received or gathered), then I'll have done my self-appointed job here.

With the final pieces of information arriving today, I can finally do the actual marking of my ballot. I'll explain why I wait as we go along.

The largest booklet, on the upper left up there, is the Federal/State info, much of it redundant, of course. I will read each of the candidate statements and proposition texts.

The book that arrived today, smaller, but more relevant, is the County/City Level info. Again, much is general info and redundant with the other book, but these are also packed with info about each candidate and each proposition, including voting histories, party endorsements, party switches, etc...all that is included as well as what the candidates say about themselves and the issues.

Once I've looked at all the relevant info there and made notes, it's on to the next thing, the Pile Of Glossy Flyers that have been sent via the mail. There are more...these were just today's:

I have also made note of what signs are in what yards, etc., since this season began. These flyers will seldom be the deciding factor in who to vote for, but rather, who NOT to vote for.

One last source of info are the political emails and newsletters I've gotten since this all began. There are several here that are relevant to housing (Tenants Together), as well as several representative and senator newsletters, both state and national level.

Once I've worked my way through all that, weighed each bit of info and put it in its place in my own framework, in a way I can understand, I will make my decision and mark my ballot. There are some candidates and issues that I don't need to go through all that with, but almost all pertinent info I might need to make an INFORMED DECISION that will make my voice heard, and make my vote mean something, in my own life.

I know I've written here before about WHY I do all this. One one level, it's because my late darlin' and I always made "a day" out of doing our Civic Duty and voting on Election Day itself*, and yes, wearing our dumb little stickers all day while we were out. It's been twelve years and about ten stickers ago now, but I do my Civic Duty as well-informed as I can be, every election, and always will.

[Patriotic Music swells in the background and fade to black.]

*We used to go out to lunch after we voted, but since I can no longer afford to go out at all, I decided tonight would be good to make a batch of Carne Guisada (Tex-Mex Beef Stew) with the not-quite-a-pound-of-stew meat I got this last time at GroceOut.

With it pretty much done, I will have myself a bowl, have a bit of coffee and read. Armed with bifocals perched on nose I'll make my marks some time before I go to bed.

Just realized I forgot to show what is in the envelope when you open your ballot. Your ballot, of course, along with its OFFICIAL RETURN ENVELOPE, which you must sign and date when you return, and another giblet on how to get assistance in voting, and of course, your silly sticker.