#and they love learning about their fields

[parkersbliss]

A Domestic Life | S. Riley

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x female reader

warnings: none just some fluff bc I don’t see enough for him :(( maybe OOC

synopsis: just some fluffy headcannons about the infamous ghost and how he treats relationships

a/n: there is not enough tooth rotting fluff for this guy and I’m gonna fix that starting now

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for ghost!

—

sleeps like a log. the guy sleeps on his back, pointed at the sleeping and when he’s out he’s OUTTTT that boy does not sleep on the field so in an actual bed? he’s comatose. of course if you have a nightmare you can wake him up anytime. he’ll be a little confused at first but he’s got the spirit

enjoys cuddling but not in his sleep. he overheats so easily bc of how big he is so you guys keep your space. he is happy to hold you before bed though while watching a movie or scrolling on tiktok

he’s a DRY texter oh my god. it’s like your biggest pet peeve. “how’s your day” “fine” “made any progress?” “no.” you’re working on improving his skills but he’s just like that. you asked a question, he answers. besides he doesn’t frequently have time to text you long detailed replies

obviously ghost loves his mask, and it makes sense for him to conceal his identity but he doesn’t when he’s back with you. he likes to keep his identities separate. ghost and the mask for the field, regular simon at home. it’s not like anyone would know they were the same guy, except you of course.

on the off chance he’s home for halloween, he doesn’t use his mask as a costume (just in case anyone could connect the dots) but does keep the skeleton theme

his favorite holiday is christmas and he always makes sure he can have it off

he LOVES to cook. he doesn’t eat good when deployed so he loves coming home and cooking himself up exactly what he wanted. don’t get me wrong, he loves if you cook too but there’s something about not being able to control what you eat and then having full control and making homemade pasta for him

wears beanies all the time in winter. the dudes got a buzz cut, standard, so his heads cold. he loves when you wear a matching one with him

wakes up at the ass crack of dawn bc his body is just used to it after so many years

when he retires, he plans on having a small farm for even fresher homemade ingredients like eggs, milk etc. and he’ll wake up early to do the farm chores

again with the shitty food thing, he only likes gas station coffee. he’s so used to a crappy cup of joe that he can’t do the fancy shit. then again, he’s more of a tea guy anyway

loves his alone time but he likes you there, if that makes sense? like he loves reading a novel and not talking but just having you also read in the same room

likes just sitting on the couch together and watching a movie

It took him a while to adjust to physical touch after it being 1.) mostly abuse or 2.) enemies after him but he is not completely against it. he knows it’s important in relationships so he tries his best and eventually learns to love it

a sucker for slow dancing in the living room. bonus points if it’s with the christmas tree lights and music. he loves swaying around and the occasional stepping on feet and your giggles

his most prized possession besides the guns and you is a le creuset tea pot you gifted him for christmas. it’s bright blue with a gold handle and perfect.

he has a tea collection on display and is always trying new flavors from around the world. his green tea is imported from japan ONLY. always makes two cups for himself and you

loves to do any picnic dates or apple picking or farm style dates. the man loves food as FRESH as possible.

his bucket lists consists of food places around the world he wants to try and go with you.

including fugu from japan. you are totally opposed because of the whole life or death thing associated with it, but simon’s used to risks and he’ll do his research ofc.

he’ll never admit but he wants to go to america just to try the fast food there. he knows it’s bad and the opposite of what he stands for but the chinese in britain is ASS and doesn’t canes, in n out and chick fil a look SO good?

bicep holding >>> hand holding

he needs routine. simon needs to wake up at the same time, make breakfast for you guys at the same time, have his quiet time on the porch. watch the morning news with you and the tea. always at the same times. he tries not to but he can’t help bringing some of his military life home

his crew knows he has a wife but that’s it. ghost keeps simon separate and you are married to simon.

plus he can never be too safe when it comes to his work. the only name you went by when he’s deployed is “my wife” or “mrs riley”

doesn’t even carry a photo of you bc he’s that paranoid

you guys actually get married within 18 months because it just makes life easier. as soon as simon knew he wanted to marry you, he did.

it’s just easier in the military bc of pay, benefits, deployment, etc. and ofc he loves you and was locking that down ASAP

sends you recipes when he’s deployed for you to make and rate

when he can’t sleep, which is often, he just lays next to you not touching and contemplated how it is after all the bad he’s done, how he got it so good.

and he makes sure you know how appreciative he is

[awonderfulworldbuilding]

So I love this idea. It also neatly encompasses a different post I saw to the effect of "human: *crying red faced, licking fingers* omg that's delicious what is it? Alien: our deadliest poison.... Human: omg wow how much for a bottle? My mom would love this"

Because why is the human eating poison, right? But what if it is because the aliens have realized things that would kill them are things humans might like. So they do these experiments. And like, are they ethical? No, it's absolutely not ethical to put poison in your shipmates food to see how it affects them. But like. Itd be interesting.

This goes back to the horror that is the things we as humans have done to find out about the human body.

I recently learned about a guy who got appendicitis in Antarctica and bc he was the doctor on the expedition, man's gave himself a local, propped up a fuckin mirror and TOOK OUT HIS OWN APPENDIX. And then LIVED.

Field amputations would horrify aliens.

Ive gotten off topic. Alien scientists signing humans up for experiments with poisons.

I Am Menstruating, So Here's A Period Thought.

(Yes, it's about aliens again.)

We, as humans, eat a lot of food that other animals can't eat. Chocolate, grapes, avocados, broccoli, alcohol (although I did once have a cat who loved beer), caffeine, almonds, pistachios, macadamia nuts, any spicy food, tomatoes, the list goes on. Dairy products, everyone.

I am currently having period cravings. For hot cheetos, spicy ramen, raspberry-infused dark chocolate, and hot cocoa. Any and all of that would kill a dog.

But, would it kill an alien?

I once saw a thing that said that chocolate is a universally poisonous substance. And sure, I'll stand by that. If you give chocolate to any species except for humans, they will die. Miserably.

BUT! And this is a large but.

HUMANS ARE NOT ALL-POWERFUL, NOR ARE THEY ALL-IMMUNE!

Pokeweed (a little, deadly plant characterized by its red stem and purple berries) is absolutely lethal to us. One tiny berry will kill us. Oleander, a beautiful pink/red/white flower, can kill with any/all of its parts. Nightshade, recognized by its bright red berries, kills in less than 24 hours.

Aliens consider all of these plants to be delicacies.

Zygerin chefs whip up fabulously delicious hemlock soups for their patrons. Ytertjjijkis bakers utilize nightshade, pokeweed, and yew in all of their most famous pastries. Aàkî cooks use Oleander and destroying angel mushrooms in common garden salads.

But yes, chocolate is deadly to them. And the other 99.999% of the universe.

[adobe-outdesign]

Apparently everyone was so busy freaking out over the traditional Japanese folklore documents from the leak that they missed this very cute story about Wurmple so here you go, enjoy (Source: The Cutting Room Floor)

Theme: The Strength of Bonds Formed from Changes Brought about by Friends In a quiet field, hidden in the long grass underneath the shade of the old trees, there was a Wurmple gazing at a Burmy from afar. The Burmy clung to a tree branch, swaying in the gentle breeze, and had a body covered in leaves and branches. To the Wurmple, the Burmy was perfect - a calm and beautiful being. The two of them spent every day together. While crawling in between the branches, the Wurmple always nestled close beside the Burmy; while the Burmy slowly moved from branch to branch, it never strayed too far. The two of them would eat the same leaves and basked in the sunlight together every day. The happiness the Wurmple felt during these days and the specialness of their bond was something it believed would never change. The Burmy was also content just being by the Wurmple’s side. Having it as a friend was good enough. However, suddenly one day, the Burmy disappeared. It wasn’t at the typical spots in the tree it would usually be - it had completely vanished. The Wurmple hurriedly searched around the tree to check if it had fallen down, or evidence of it having been attacked, but there was nothing. The Burmy really had vanished. The Wurmple was at a loss, overwhelmed by this sudden change. The Burmy it had loved before was no longer there. The Wurmple, stricken with sorrow, soon evolved into a Cascoon. Even then, underneath the tree where the two of them had once spent their time together, the Cascoon was sinking deeper into sadness. One day, the sound of wings broke the silence. Under normal circumstances, the Cascoon would have been on alert. If a bird Pokemon wanted the tree, the Cascoon would give the tree up to it. If it tried to eat the Cascoon, it also would not care. Now that the Burmy was gone, there was no meaning to the Cascoon’s life. The wings eventually lowered down next to the Cascoon. The sound of the strong gusts shook the grass. When the Cascoon turned to face it, what was there was not a bird or a predator. It was a Mothim. The Burmy hadn’t vanished. It had evolved. It hadn’t become a Wormadam, but a Mothim. The Cascoon was overjoyed, and began to glow once again. This time its evolution didn’t come from sorrow, but from happiness. Whether the Burmy was a Wormadam or a Mothim was irrelevant. The important thing was that it was there. When the Cascoon finally evolved into a Dustox, it stretched out its wings for the first time. Although it was trembling, it felt determined to try flying. The Mothim hovered right beside the Dustox and tried to help with its flight. Although the Dustox’s balance was shaky, it eventually learned the technique to soar in the sky. The two of them flew around above the trees, no longer bound by old expectations; as though they were being carried by the bond that had continued after overcoming their change into their new forms, they joyfully flew away.

[cuubism]

Dreamling Olympic Equestrian AU, the Sequel (less Olympics, more Equestrian)

-

Hob wished he could say he took a ‘reasonable’ approach to dating Dream after the Olympics. In actuality he basically just went home with Dream and never left. He helped him get Jessamy settled in, and then Dream wanted him to stay over, and then Hob made him breakfast the next morning, and then—

He did eventually have to go take care of his own horses, and generally get back to his real responsibilities, but it was done with reluctance. Damn him, but he’d immediately started missing Dream. Too attached, too quickly, that was always his way.

And then not a week later Dream had invited him to bring his horse and go on a hack, and, well. Maybe Hob wasn’t the only one being unreasonable about it.

Safe to say they had never really gotten rid of each other after that.

By the end of the year Hob did very much the opposite of getting rid of Dream. Which was to say, marrying him. He was now the proud owner of some very cliche wedding photos of them leaning over to kiss each other while on horseback. He wouldn’t change a thing.

Afterwards, they’d both sold their respective properties, pooled their resources—mostly Dream’s resources if Hob was being totally honest—and bought a place together.

Hob still remembers finding the farm on the market and taking Dream to see it for the first time. He’d been so excited for Dream to see it. Dream had such high standards and Hob had been sure they were going to have to compromise on something, but this property had everything Dream had ever expressed wanting in a farm and other things besides. Rolling fields and connections to nearby bridle paths. A massive indoor arena for riding in inclement weather. Three-sided shelters in all of the paddocks. Automatic waterers. Heated wash stalls. The damn floors were heated too, not that they used the stalls much, but Dream’s geriatric ponies would surely appreciate it come wintertime.

(Hob had been extremely charmed to learn, upon first visiting Dream's farm, that Dream still owned the incredibly fancy ponies Hob had correctly assumed he'd grown up riding as a child. They were now ancient and feral and tended to bite anyone other than Dream. It was delightful.)

Hob’s favorite part of the property was the house. It was set a bit off from the main barn, close enough to be an easy walk but out of the way of the traffic if one was to operate the place as a full-service livery. Dream had loved the cottage at Hob’s previous farm, and this house was much the same, quaint and cozy with its own pond and meandering garden path. It even had a screened-in patio for Dream’s persnickety cats to sunbathe.

It was all perfect. Dream had actually squealed when Hob brought him to see it. It was lucky Dream had money otherwise Hob would have probably done something illegal to afford the place just to see that look on his face every day.

Six months and an amount of money Hob didn’t want to think about later, they had their own farm and had started taking on clients. It should have been idyllic. In many ways it was. Jessamy and Hob’s retired event horse, Ellie, were getting along swimmingly in their big field. Dream’s feral old ponies were rampaging about the place. The amount of space was a bit dangerous, as Dream kept sending Hob photos of pretty horses for sale, saying we have the space for it, Hob. He didn’t seem to care that the prices of said horses were upwards of one hundred thousand pounds.

It was both a blessing and a curse to have married someone who came from money.

All the better to get clients in so the stable was actually making some money instead of just bleeding cash in exchange for more horses. And this was where the trouble began. Because Dream may have been disagreeable around people but he had a soft spot for troubled horses. And when troubled horses intersected with the clients that made them that way, well. That was how they got this.

“I was led to believe I’d be getting results,” Roderick Burgess was saying as Hob stepped into the arena, leaning against the wall to watch Dream ride. “Surely an Olympian should be able to do better.”

Hob grit his teeth, but didn’t say anything, yet. Dream could handle himself.

“If you don’t like my methods, you’re free to take your horse elsewhere,” Dream said. He was trotting the horse—its name was Ruby—in a big circle at the far end of the ring, riding on a long rein, just trying to get it to bend and loosen up its neck. It didn’t seem to be particularly easy for the horse, which was troubling considering a horse that had had ‘a few years’ of training—according to Roderick—should be able to at least do basic flatwork. And should be less stiff about it besides.

“We both know that won’t happen,” said Roderick. He was probably right—now that Dream was starting to get a sense of the horse’s poor prior training, he wouldn’t want to send it elsewhere—but Hob nevertheless wanted to walk over to Roderick and toss him out of the ring. Wasn’t the point of owning your own place that you could kick out clients you didn’t like?

“Perhaps if you’d been honest about his issues, we’d have better results,” Dream said, turning across the middle of the circle to change the bend. Ruby tossed his head, struggling with the change in direction, but Dream persisted in asking him to bend and eventually got him to drop his head again, now stepping up into a canter. “I was promised a horse at at least third level yet you’ve brought me one that struggles with basic self-carriage.”

Hob thought expecting any results yet was unreasonable considering it was only the first time Dream had even gotten on the horse. He’d only gotten it in last week, and just lunged it yesterday.

“You have to be more aggressive with him,” said Roderick dismissively. “Just make him do it.”

“Am I paying you, or are you paying me?”

And on it went like that, Dream working through his usual regimen, slowly building up the difficulty, Roderick nitpicking and criticizing all the while. Hob didn’t know what he really wanted. Maybe he just got a kick out of being an asshole.

Hob did love watching Dream ride, though. Watching him work with an inexperienced horse wasn’t nearly as seamless as it was when he rode Jessamy, but his patience and light touch were always a delight to behold.

Dream eventually took up his reins, gauging the horse’s ability to go around in a more collected frame. That ability was dubious at best, but Dream kept at it, working in circles of various sizes, transitioning up and down the gaits. He would get the horse where it needed to be eventually, Hob knew. If Roderick didn’t keep interrupting with unreasonable demands.

“Are you going to do any lateral work at all?” asked Roderick with annoyance, predictably interrupting again, and Hob could almost hear Dream’s jaw clench.

“Yes, I am getting to it. It’s a horse, not a racecar.” He turned the horse down the quarter line, lightly brushing the end of his whip, which Hob hadn’t seen him use yet, against its flank to ask it to step sideways and under.

And at the first touch of the whip Ruby exploded.

If Hob had looked down for even a second he would not have seen it move, it was so fast—the horse bolted sideways away from the whip, head thrown up, legs scrambling. Dream pulled back hard on the left rein, trying to stop through a turn, but Ruby just plowed right through it, tossing its head. Hob heard the bang as they—or more likely Dream’s knee—hit the arena wall, and then Dream yanked harder and managed to turn, spinning the horse into a circle until it was forced by the tight angle to slow to a nervy walk.

Hob had automatically lurched forward to try to help, but realized fast enough that rushing over would only make things worse. He watched, tense, as Dream finally brought Ruby to a halt. A lesser rider would have been thrown; Hob was glad Dream’s seat was better than that.

“Ah, yes,” said Roderick nonchalantly from where he was still sitting, ankle crossed over his knee. “He does not enjoy the whip.”

“Were you planning to inform me of that,” said Dream, out of breath, “before or after we went through a wall?”

“I would have thought you could handle it,” Roderick said.

Hob kind of wanted to punch him in the face. Instead he went over to Dream.

Ruby was standing stock still now, breathing hard, and let out a loud huff, nostrils flaring, as Hob stopped at Dream’s side. Dream scratched the horse’s neck.

“Are you alright?” Hob asked quietly.

Dream nodded, handing the whip to Hob, though his expression was pinched, and Hob worried for his knee. “Once more and then we’ll be done. I don’t want to end on that note.”

“You cannot let him get away with that,” said Roderick sternly, seeing Hob take Dream’s whip. “He must tolerate the whip.”

“And I’m sure persisting now will teach that effectively,” Dream bit back. “Do you want an explosive horse, Roderick? Because that is what you have handed me, and if you insist upon pushing the matter like this, you will only make it worse.”

“I hired you to fix it,” Roderick snapped.

“Then let me.”

Dream brought the horse back up to a trot, did a lap around the ring and then came down the quarter line again, this time asking him to leg yield over just by bending him around his leg. Ruby was tense now, jiggling the bit in his mouth and fighting Dream’s hand, but he did move over, and once they’d reached the wall Dream let him drop back down to a walk, letting his grip on the reins slide down to the buckle. Ruby snorted loudly, dropping his head to the floor as he walked anxiously on the long rein.

“You do not have to beat him to get what you want,” Dream said, turning to Roderick.

“You care too much about their feelings,” said Roderick dismissively.

“Not caring about their feelings has gotten you very far indeed,” Dream said back.

He halted the horse by Hob and hopped down, stumbling on the landing and leaning hard on his left leg. Shit. Hob knew he’d hit the wall. Goddammit, Dream.

Before Hob could take the horse from him, Roderick’s kid, Alex, crept into the arena and came over, eyeing his father as he did. Normally Hob considered Alex kind of a liability to have around the farm—he was convinced the kid was going to get himself kicked in the head at some point—but now he handed him the reins. It was Roderick’s horse, the two of them could deal with it right now.

“Make sure to walk him out,” Hob told Alex, and then, ignoring Roderick, who’d already focused on Alex, presumably to berate him for something, he wrapped an arm around Dream’s waist and led him out of the ring.

By the time they made it into the lounge, Dream was leaning heavily against Hob’s side, limping on his right leg. God, Hob hoped he hadn’t broken something. He could only imagine how long that sort of knee injury would take Dream out.

Hob sat him down on the couch. “Can I take a look at your knee?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Dream said, even as the corners of his lips were still pressed tight in pain.

“Dream, I heard you hit the wall from the other side of the arena.”

Dream sighed, but finally started unzipping his boots.

“Breeches, too,” Hob said.

Dream gave him a look but, having removed his boots, started stripping off his socks and black riding pants as well. He looked small like that, perched on the couch in just his black boxer briefs and short-sleeve polo. Hob winced at the sight of his knee. It had already turned horribly purple from his impact with the wall. Hob crouched by him to look closer, taking Dream’s ankle in his hands, turning his leg this way and that, carefully testing the motion. “How much does it hurt?”

“Tolerable,” Dream said, watching Hob intently. Hob mentally increased all of Dream’s descriptions by several degrees of pain. “I don’t think anything is broken, or sprained.”

Having looked closer, Hob didn’t think so either; he was pretty sure it was just bruised. A nasty bruise, though. “Should keep off it for a few days, though.”

Dream sighed, put upon, but didn’t contradict him.

“I’ll get you some ice.” He had ice wraps in the freezer, and pulled one out, laying it over Dream’s knee.

Dream’s lips twitched up in a small smile. “That is for horses.”

“Well, now it’s for humans, too.” He sat beside Dream on the couch as he iced his poor knee. “We should get it checked out if it’s not any better by tomorrow. Don’t want to risk permanent damage.”

Dream touched Hob’s shoulder with light fingers. Hob was, unfortunately, speaking from experience on this matter. Though in his case it had been less ‘deciding not to get it checked out’ and more ‘completely obliterating the joint to the point that it was kind of moot.’ Hob had shown Dream the video of that fall a while back. It was not a pleasant video.

He still had a mostly functional shoulder, though.

Fortunately, Hob didn’t usually have to worry about that happening with Dream. Having a horse flip on top of you was the kind of thing that was more likely to happen when you decided it was a good idea to gallop at solid objects. Which Hob had done. Frequently.

He was kind of glad he hadn’t married a fellow adrenaline junkie.

“I can’t believe Roderick put you on that horse knowing it was going to react like that,” Hob said. He really should kick the guy out. Prick.  

“Roderick created that reaction,” said Dream. “He hardly cares if it gets someone thrown, so long as that someone is not him.”

“I care!” Hob exclaimed. “It’s our fucking stable. He can’t just use you as a crash-test dummy.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “I am not easy to crash.”

“That’s not the point, Dream. I’ll kick him out, I swear to God.”

“I can handle Roderick Burgess. And the horse. You needn’t protect me.”

“Maybe I want to,” said Hob. He took the ice off Dream’s knee and took another look at it. The bruise only looked more hideous. “Maybe part of being your husband is that I get to protect you.”

Dream touched his cheek fondly, but said, “If we send him away, he will only take the horse to someone else, and nothing will improve.”

Hob knew it was true. He would have just bought the horse and given it to Dream just to get Roderick off the property, but he was pretty sure Roderick would just take the money and go buy another one so that wouldn’t really accomplish anything in the end.

Hob was always going to end up doing what made Dream happy anyway.

“Just…” he rubbed Dream’s thigh, careful of the bruise. “Be careful. God only knows what else he’s taught that horse to do.”

“We will find out, I suppose. Roderick will not be happy with me, though. I intend to take the horse back down to basics. He will doubtless be furious.” He did sound somewhat satisfied by the thought of it.

“Roderick can get on the damn thing himself if he’s so upset,” Hob said.

“That would be entertaining to watch, though less so for the horse,” Dream said. “Perhaps he will make Alex ride it.”

Hob rubbed his forehead in despair. “God help us all.”

“Indeed.”

“You should go back to the house and rest a while,” Hob told him.

“First I want to make sure they haven’t managed to kill Ruby,” Dream said. He levered himself to his feet, handing Hob back the ice wrap. “Besides, I am fine.”

The way he limped about while pulling on his breeches and paddock boots belied that, but Hob knew better than to argue further. At least he wasn’t getting back on the horse.

He went with Dream—only limping a little bit now—out to the barn, where Alex was getting Ruby settled in his stall. Alex looked distinctly nervous brushing the horse down, but hadn’t managed to get it—or, more surprisingly, himself—killed yet, which Hob counted as a win. Roderick was nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best.

“Did you walk him out?” Dream asked.

Alex nodded anxiously. He seemed intimidated by Dream—which, to be fair, was a common experience for most people. Hob frequently had to remind himself that the version of Dream he saw every day—curled up in the kitchen alcove with his tea and a cat on his lap, chasing his ponies around the barn, resting his head in Hob’s lap for Hob to play with his hair—was not the version most people saw.

Ruby seemed little worse for wear for his ordeal. Dream pet the horse’s nose fondly, and it tried to nibble at his palm.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he said, to the horse, now ignoring Alex. “We’ll sort it out, won’t we?”

Ruby just tried to nibble on his fingers again.

With another pat to the horse’s nose, but no more words for Alex, Dream strode away again. Hob followed. Once they were out of the barn, he caught up to Dream and scooped him up in his arms, Dream clutching at his neck with a squeak.

“I’m carrying you home,” Hob said, starting off for the house. “You’re not walking.”

“I am not an invalid,” Dream protested.

“Oh, I should put you down, then?”

Dream clutched at him tighter. “You would not dare.”

“Thought so.”

And so he carried Dream down the short walk back to the house. After all, Hob thought, this was the whole point. He couldn’t necessarily prevent Dream from getting on insane horses or dealing with insane clients. But he could be there at the end of the day to carry him home.

[buddiesmutslut]

I know I've said it before, but I think this upcoming episode is going to be so interesting, even if we don't get Queer Eddie OR BT Bones (neither of which I'm fully convinced are going to happen on Thursday), & it's really for this one interesting phrase that Ryan & Oliver have both used.

They have both mentioned "rose-colored glasses" when it comes to Tommy & Shannon, and I would argue that they each have to reckon with these relationships before we can have any movement towards Buddie.

Eddie thinks that Shannon was the love of his life, that he failed her and has to carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life. I believe that Eddie placing Shannon on a pedestal is partially what's stopping him from realizing his queerness (along with the catholic guilt and repression, but a lot of that is also tied up in Shannon & their failed marriage.)

Buck's convinced that his big feelings last season were all about Tommy, and I'm not saying that some of them weren't, but I don't think it'd be too far of a stretch to say that he figures that he's in this relationship now and that obviously everything is fine now. He figured out this part of himself and he's dating a man and that means everything is Fine and he absolutely does not need to do any further digging or searching or learning, despite the fact that he and Tommy don't really seem to like each other all that much, nor do they seem to be all that compatible.

Buck has to reckon with the fact that realizing his bisexuality and immediately jumping into a relationship with a man that he wasn't even sure he wanted (his speech at the coffee date) might not be the solution to all the problems he's had, and Eddie has to deal with the fact that Shannon was not perfect, that what she did was not the same as what he did, that she's responsible for her own actions and that this romanticized vision he has clung to of their lives is not real and is not consistent with the actual relationship that they had.

There's a Divorce Arc this episode - which I'm begging does something with Eddie - and an uncomfortable truth learned about Tommy's past; it's not completely out of left field to assume that the Rose-Colored Glasses come off this episode.

And the fact that it's happening for them BOTH, at the same time? In the relationships that I think are the biggest obstacles to them realizing/accepting their feelings for each other???

I'm never fully convinced they're actually going to go there with these 2, but it will be SO interesting to see how this episode plays out, regardless.

[legionofshaza]

Under the orange tree

Lucien week day 4 @lucienweekofficial

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❃❃❃✿❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

The late afternoon sun cast over the Spring Court’s gardens, where the air was fragrant with the scent of blooming orange blossoms. Lucien Vanserra relaxed against the smooth bark of the ancient orange tree, his one scarred eye half-closed in the warmth of the day. Beside him, Elain Archeron sat on the soft blanket,arranging a small bouquet of wildflowers she'd picked from the fields surrounding them.

Lucien watched her with love and admiration, as she finished the bouquet.

Elain met his gaze, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I love it here,” she said.

“I thought you might,” Lucien replied, his voice low, rough like the growl of a distant storm, but softened with affection. “It suits you—the garden, the quiet.” His gaze lingered on the soft flush of her cheeks, the light in her eyes. He reached for her hand, gently, hesitating for a moment before his fingers intertwined with hers. "It suits us."

Elain’s breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Her hand, so small and soft in his, squeezed back. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the chirp of distant birds. The world, at that moment, belonged only to them.

She shifted slightly, leaning her shoulder against him, and his heart stuttered, as it always did when she was this close. "I wasn’t sure about this at first,” she admitted, her eyes flicking toward the orange trees around them. “Coming here with you, spending time like this. But... it feels right now."

Lucien turned his head slightly. “I’m glad. You deserve to feel comfortable wherever you are. Especially with me.” There was a hint of vulnerability in his words, but Lucien had long since learned not to guard his heart so closely when it came to her.

She tilted her face up to him, the light playing in her brown eyes, glinting with something unreadable, but warm. “It’s been... hard, figuring out what I want. Who I am now. But when I’m with you, it’s as if everything falls into place.”

“Elain…” He didn’t know how to respond, not fully. For months, years even, he'd held his breath, waiting for her to come to him, to accept the bond between them. But hearing her say this... it was more than he had dared hope for.

“I know it hasn’t been easy,” she continued, her eyes dropping to where their hands were still intertwined. “For either of us. But I’m learning that love doesn’t have to be simple, or easy, for it to be real.”

He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The word love hung between them, heavy and fragile all at once. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you,” Lucien said, his voice soft but firm. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, his hand shaking ever so slightly. “But I never wanted to force anything. I wanted you to choose, to be sure.”

Elain looked at him then, fully, with that piercing, clear gaze that always made him feel like she could see right through him. “I know. That’s why it’s been so hard. You’ve always given me space, and that made me realize something.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his heart pounding.

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against his, the closeness sending a shiver down his spine. Her breath was warm against his lips as she whispered, “That I choose you, Lucien. I love you.”

His heart stuttered at her words, and before he could think, before he could stop himself, his lips found hers. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but the weight of their emotions pulled them closer. Her hands moved to his chest, resting there as if she could feel the frantic beat of his heart. His fingers slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, pouring all the love into it.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Lucien rested his forehead against hers once more, eyes closed as he tried to steady the emotions swirling inside him. “I’ve dreamed of this,” he whispered, voice shaking with the depth of his feeling.

Under the orange tree, they found each other at last, and for the first time, Lucien knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful—something neither of them had to fear anymore.

💞End💞

[welldonekhushi]

Vampyr OC: Anastasia Graham 🏥

Introducing you all to a new OC, everyone! My head has been constantly brainstorming with ideas to create a new character based on the game I'm currently posting content with. So, here's what you can know about them, under the cut!

Currently for the bio, I've only used Picrews to describe Anastasia's appearance, but sooner or later I'll draw her in my style and update it all!

GENERAL:

Name: Anastasia

Full name: Anastasia Graham

Alias(es): Anna (by her family, and Dr. Reid), Annie (by the patients)

Age: 25 years old

Gender: Female

Nationality: British (UK)

Languages spoken: English, a bit of French (learnt from her mother who briefly served during the war)

Place of Birth: Birmingham, England

Species: Human

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Marital Status: Single

Occupation: Nurse at Pembroke Hospital

Current residence: Whitechapel

Status: Active

Faceclaim: Freya Mavor

(She mostly wears two braids to the hospital but when she's at home, she has her hair open like in the pictures!)

Biography: Anastasia Graham, an aspiring nurse with hopes of making a mark in medical studies, faces numerous challenges as she begins her career at Pembroke Hospital amid the deadly Spanish Flu epidemic.

PERSONALITY:

Myers-Briggs Type: ISFJ (The Defender)

Compassionate and kind: One defining characteristic of Anastasia is her deep compassion and kindness towards her patients, often referred to as a “hope restored.” Her mere presence brings light to those in the hospital, uplifting spirits even amid the bleak conditions caused by the flu’s impact on the city.

Emotional: The loss of her patients profoundly affects Anastasia, breaking her heart and making her feel as though she has failed in her duty as a nurse. She struggles to cope with these intense emotions, but with the guidance of Dorothy Crane, she is learning to be resilient and to maintain hope, even in the face of loss when there is nothing more she can do.

Cautious: Due to a traumatic vampire attack in her youth that nearly cost her life, Anastasia approaches the world with caution. She often fears walking alone, haunted by the possibility that someone might be following her. To protect herself, she keeps the knife her father gave her, always prepared to defend herself if necessary.

AFFILIATIONS:

Graham Family

Henry Graham (Father, deceased)

Amelia Graham (Mother, alive)

Eleanor Graham (Aunt, alive)

Alfred Graham (Uncle, alive)

Pembroke Hospital

Dr. Jonathan Reid (Colleague, Love Interest)

Dr. Thoreau Strickland (Colleague #2)

Dr. Edgar Swansea (Employer, Administrator of Pembroke Hospital)

Dorothy Crane (Mentor)

Gwyneth Branagan (Mentor #2)

Pippa Hawkins (Distant Cousin)

BACKGROUND STORY:

Anastasia Graham was born in Birmingham to Henry and Amelia Graham. Her father, a dedicated member of the Guard of Priwen—a society of vampire hunters—instilled in her an early sense of resilience, while her mother, a compassionate medic, inspired Anastasia's passion for healing. Determined to follow in her mother’s footsteps, Anastasia committed herself to the study of medicine from a young age.

Her life took a dark turn one evening when she was nearly attacked by a bloodthirsty vampire. She was saved just in time by a Priwen hunter, but the incident left a lasting impression on her. To help her feel safe, her father entrusted her with a silver knife, a small but powerful symbol of protection should she ever face such danger again.

As she grew, Anastasia remained focused on her goal of becoming a nurse, eventually securing formal education in the medical field. This path led her to London during the height of the Spanish Flu epidemic, a devastating time that demanded all hands on deck in the healthcare sector. It was then that Dr. Edgar Swansea, who recognized her potential and the urgent need for additional medical staff, invited her to join the Pembroke Hospital team.

Under the mentorship of Dorothy Crane, Anastasia Graham dedicated herself to serving the patients of Pembroke Hospital, striving to emulate Dorothy’s own unwavering commitment to compassionate care. Despite the harsh conditions, she went to great lengths to ensure each patient was treated with dignity and that their needs were met. Yet, the onslaught of suffering patients as the Spanish Flu ravaged the city took a toll on her. With each new wave, the pain, fear, and despair around her intensified, and Anastasia began to feel overwhelmed. Though determined to stay strong, she found herself teetering on the edge of exhaustion.

One evening, while rushing through the dim, crowded halls of Pembroke, Anastasia noticed a new figure in the hospital. Tall and composed, he moved through the chaos with a calm, almost unearthly presence that commanded attention. He was a doctor, recently arrived and eager to join the fight against the epidemic. When their eyes met, Anastasia felt a strange sense of foreboding—and fascination. Unaware of the true nature of the man she was drawn to, she sensed that her life was about to take an irrevocable turn.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hey blusyyy!

I turn 19 in a week—yayyyy! :))))

So, I was hoping you could write a story where it’s the reader’s birthday and Donna is super determined to make it the reader’s best day ever!

That would literally make my day ")

Thanks a bunch!!! xx

Yesss!!! I hope you have/had a happy birthday :D!!! Thanks for your request! I hope you like it and enjoy your 19, it's a wonderful age! :))))))

Your special day

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff,

Word count: 7,102

Summary: Does she remember what day is it?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Mm,” you murmured childishly, moving in bed.

Normally you refused to wake up easily, you liked to slack off a bit, but not that day, that day was quite special.

For a girl like you, who had just turned 19, a warm bed and the security of waking up every day was almost a privilege. Living in that village wasn’t what Mother Miranda promised every day, it wasn’t a haven of peace and tranquility.

The cold and hard work was a constant for villagers like you. Work and pray or pray and work, those were the only obligations for you. It might seem simple and even a routine assured for the future, but it wasn’t.

When you came of age, girls like you had already finished living in a contemplative way, and would become servants of the Black Gods, one way or another. You remembered perfectly how your only two friends stopped accompanying you when they were hired at Dimitrescu Castle, as maids.

Being alone wasn’t a very serious problem for you, but even so, it was hard to see how life moved forward without remedy, gradually taking you away from the tranquility of childhood.

Your parents, always worried about your well-being, always kept you away from that rocky path of servitude, but they were no longer there. Too young, and too alone, you saw your dark future approaching with each day. Serving in the castle, getting married, working in the fields...

None of those options matched your abilities and concerns. You weren’t a maid; you weren’t born simply to serve a lout you didn’t love; you were different. A lover of history, books and antiquities, you were very reluctant to assume the destiny the Gods had placed on your shoulders at birth.

Your family, your friends disappeared little by little, isolating you from the world, making you open your eyes. You were about to give up, to recognize that none of your historical skills or your own knowledge would be of any use, maybe just to entertain some Lord while you served him.

Little by little, you accepted your destiny and in front of you, several options were spread out, each with its pros and cons: For a young, and nice-looking girl like you, it wouldn’t have been difficult to obtain a position as a maid in the castle, in addition, there you could have met your lost friends again but... you would never leave that place.

Factory assistant, dam guard... no, none of those alternatives solved your ambitions, not even taking advantage of your knowledge to be useful in some way to Mother Miranda. Obviously you liked your human form; you didn’t want to become a brainless beast.

Erratic, like a tormented soul, you wandered through each of those possibilities, saying goodbye to the world you knew and accepting the irremediable reality of your existence, at least until you met her.

Just when you thought that your knowledge, your desire to learn and your passion for reading were completely useless, the Gods seemed to give you a break. One day, some time ago, you made the mistake of reading in a remote place, in a place you weren’t aware of having crossed; in a dangerous territory from which no one returned, the lands of the lady in black, the youngest and most fearsome Lord, the lands of Donna Beneviento.

It could have been your end, but it was your beginning. You would never have thought that a woman like her, sick and disturbed, could take pity on you simply by seeing you with a book in your hand.

According to her living doll, culture and knowledge weren’t exactly the greatest hobbies of an average villager. Therefore, you had to be special. And so it was, without expecting it, thanks to a gift for books and wisdom you thought was useless, you managed to advance in your destiny, changing it forever.

It didn’t take long for you to discover that this veiled woman, immersed in the shadows, also had a hidden side that no one could ever see. Donna, the doll maker, was much more than that. She was a cultured, intelligent, elegant and intriguing woman. Having things in common with a Lord wasn’t exactly a good thing, but, in your case, it was.

You stopped reading in the cold of the village to do it next to her, to exchange silent opinions about anything. You weren’t made of stone, you had eyes. You could feel a lot of things when the lady in black was around you, when she granted you the privilege of speaking with her own voice, a hoarse but melodic voice.

Every day you went to the estate to spend the day with her, to drink tea in silence, to read, or to chat calmly (as long as the Angie doll didn't feel like making fun of you, of course). During the day you went, at night you returned to your lonely home until... you simply stopped doing it.

Your first kiss had been something you had imagined several times, but never as it really was, never with her, never with that beautiful woman who uncovered her face just for you, who confessed that those things you were beginning to feel were also part of her.

Love and chance shaped your own destiny, and, of course, you couldn't complain at all. Yes, the lady in black had problems you had to learn to deal with, but that was a small, tiny price to pay for being happy with her, for loving and feeling loved.

After almost a year, you no longer had any doubts. That house was your home, Donna was your home, and she always would be.

Coincidentally, that anniversary was just a couple of days before the day you were on, a special day like no other: your birthday. Yes, it's true that it happens every year, but your 19th birthday wasn't just any birthday, it was the first one you lived with Donna.

“Well…” you sighed, turning around and reaching out your arm to reach the brunette, but her warm body wasn't resting next to yours, you just awkwardly hugged an empty space. “Donna?”

You called the lady, still disoriented from having woken up and turned on the light in the room. You would never get used to sleeping in a room without windows.

“Mm,” you hummed, rubbing your eyes and staring ahead with a lost look. “Well, I guess, happy birthday (Y/N),” you said with a mischievous smile, stretching and getting out of bed. “Let's see if she remembers…” you murmured while rubbing your hands.

Donna wasn't stupid, and she knew how to listen, but... would she really remember how special that day was for you? There was only one way to find out.

Yawning, you walked through the dark basement, looking for any sign of the doll maker. The truth was that she used to wake up much earlier, but she used to try to get you up with her, after some cuddling, of course.

The silence in the basement was quite noticeable, something strange that made you have an unpleasant chill. Fortunately, something sounded in the kitchen, thus revealing the presence of the lady .

“Donna...” you said in a sleepy voice, while she seemed distracted picking up something from the counter.

She couldn't help a slight smile forming on her face when she heard you, but it faded as you approached.

“Hi, honey,” you said, hanging on to her waist with a mischievous smile, biting your lip as you affectionately kissed the back of her neck.

“Buongiorno, (Y/N),” she whispered, running a hand through yours and stepping away gracefully.

You shifted nervously on the floor, searching for Donna's eye, which seemed to resist looking at you.

“Oh, um... did you sleep well?” you asked in a slightly petulant voice, slurring your words innocently and wiggling your eyebrows to catch her attention.

The doll maker glanced at you briefly, nodding in the same way.

“Yes, tesoro, as always,” Donna whispered in a somewhat strange tone, colder than usual.

“Great,” you sighed, tilting your head so she could look at you again.

If you didn't know her, you'd think it was just a normal day for her; that she had completely forgotten about your birthday. Of course you refused to believe it, she was probably too distracted.

“Donna,” you said humming, running a finger down her back, catching her attention.

“Mm?” she murmured, kissing the back of your hand and frowning, moving away from you again.

“Um, um…” you stammered somewhat embarrassed, looking down. “Don't you have anything to say?” you asked with your voice broken by nerves.

If she really hadn't forgotten, she was pretending very well… or… or maybe she didn't care that it was your birthday. The second option was definitely the worst of all.

“Yes, you look beautiful, as always,” the lady said, with a passive voice while placing some pans, watching the coffee she made every morning. “Coffee?”

“Oh, yes of course,” you said with a nervous laugh, approaching again. “But, but… well, today is a very special day, isn't it?”

“Special? No, I don't think so, (Y/N),” Donna said, shaking her head and making your shoulders deflate, as well as your chest. “It's just another day.”

“Do you really think so?” you asked in a small voice.

No, there would be no gifts or surprises. You no longer had any doubts, Donna had forgotten. You couldn't blame her. Her mind was sick and loneliness devoured too many years of her life. Thinking about your birthday didn't seem one of her priorities. You would be lying if you said you didn't feel a deep disappointment, but then again, you couldn't blame her.

“W-Well… then I better… prepare breakfast,” you whispered with a sad look, making the lady stop serving the coffee.

“It's not necessary, you know I like to prepare it myself,” Donna said, with a genuine smile, emphasizing your sadness even more.

“Okay…” you sighed, trying not to give away your feelings with your words. “Wait, have you taken a shower?”

“Uh-huh,” Donna whispered, looking at the coffee, completely ignoring you. “You should do the same.”

“Donna… you know I like to do it with you,” you said without being able to feign a bit of frustration.

A hot shower hugging the love of your life… On a normal day that was one of your greatest pleasures, but that wasn’t a normal day.

Donna couldn't pretend she didn't know how much you liked hugging her body under the water, closing your eyes while you felt her skin against yours. The excuse of having forgotten your birthday wouldn't work with that.

“I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait for you to wake up, tesoro,” the lady murmured, placing the cups on the counter. “Go take a shower, get pretty for me, will you?” she ordered subtly, making you nod and give her a look that was a bit... furious, just a bit.

“Okay, Donna...” you whispered, lowering your gaze again, sad.

The day certainly didn't start the way you wanted.

“Aspetta, (Y/N)” she called you, interrupting your sad step out of the kitchen.

Your face lit up, clinging to one last hope.

“Yes?” you asked with wide eyes, with a smile lifting your corners again.

“When you're done, set the table, will you?” she whispered with disinterest, without even looking you in the eyes.

Your sadness slightly mutated into anger, and you gritted your teeth.

“Why don't you set it yourself? You're not doing anything,” you said with an unpleasant tone, making Donna look at you sharply, with a surprised expression.

“I'm making breakfast, (Y/N),” she said, with an annoyed tone, shaking her head. “Do you expect me to do everything?”

“No, I...” you said regretful of your unfair attitude, lowering your head in apology. “You're right, forgive me, Donna.”

The lady just shook her head, ignoring you again.

During your shower, a horrible one, you thought about your girlfriend's behavior. Yes, she could have forgotten about your day, but something in her attitude said that it wasn’t a simple oversight.

You were quite used to the madness taking over her sometimes, to her having... bad days, days in which that brusqueness towards you was the product of the frustration she felt when repressing her desire to cry or scream, just for you, just so that you wouldn't have to suffer her illness.

Getting angry about that would be selfish, but you couldn't help but growl in rage. There were 365 days in a year, and it had to happen to her that one, just that one, right on your special day. You tried to stop thinking about it, and hope or pray, that phase of anger and those crises would pass soon and Donna, your Donna, would be back.

Already dressed, sighing, you walked to fulfill her request, going up the elevator tired, disappointed.

“What the…?” you asked, blinking several times when you reached the dining table.

It was already set, full of delicious breakfast treats, with a steaming plate of pancakes in front of your seat. There were flowers, elegant glasses filled with natural juice and everything was placed perfectly. The salty smell of bacon contrasted with the sweetness of the syrup that, wow, looked homemade.

It was the best breakfast you had ever seen in your entire life and your eyes wandered over every part of the table, over every detail carefully studied. In the middle of the table, there was an envelope, with your name written on it. Your hands trembled from the shock and you were unable to stop smiling as you carefully opened it.

Look behind you

You obeyed with a shy laugh, frowning to look for something that would catch your attention.

“Hey, silly, here!” a shrill voice directed your gaze to a small table, where the Angie doll rested with something in her arms. “Are you blind or what?”

“Angie?” you asked amused, approaching the puppet, who extended something wrapped towards you. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just following orders, silly,” Angie said, with apparent discomfort in her voice. “Here, here.”

You, with a gesture of gratitude, took the package, running your hand through the wrapping paper.

“What are you waiting for? Open it,” the doll told you, looking over your shoulder to try to figure out the contents.

You nodded, looking towards the hallway, searching for the lady in black with your eyes. You were never a patient girl, and you decided to obey Angie and slowly remove that decorative paper, touching with your fingers the soft fabric of what looked like a dress.

“Wow… it’s beautiful,” you said, taking out the dress and spreading it down, placing it on top of your clothes.

Those seams, that combination of colors… There was no doubt, Donna had made it. She had made it for you.

“Angie, what…?” you asked excitedly, but before you could finish the sentence, some hands on your waist startled you.

“Did you think I had forgotten?” a tender whisper in your ear sent shivers through your entire body and you turned to see a very different Donna, smiling warmly before kissing you slowly, with a delicacy and elegance that almost made you faint.

“Donna,” you sighed, letting yourself be hugged, letting the lady gently touch your cheek with her hands. “My love…”

“Buon compleanno, tesoro,” the lady whispered, kissing you slowly again, bringing your body closer to hers while you clung to it, on the verge of tears.

“I-I really thought you…” you sighed, with a dazzling smile. “Oh, Donna, you scared me.”

“I'm sorry,” she said amused, cupping your face with her hands. “I wanted to make you suffer a little.”

“Well, you succeeded,” you said amused, giving her a tender punch on the shoulder while she laughed, gently pushing you from behind. “H-Hey, the dress is… beautiful, I have no words.”

“Mm, you are beautiful, amore mio,” Donna said purring, indicating for you to sit down.

“Oh, wait, wait, I'm going to change,” you said nervously. “I'm looking forward to seeing how it looks on me,” you said amused, heading to a room.

You shouldn't underestimate Lady Beneviento. She always managed to surprise you, in any way.

“How does it look on me?” you asked once you were changed, turning around so that the fabric moved hypnotically. Donna smiled and came over with a frown, touching the seams, checking that everything was perfect.

“Mm, do you feel it tugging on you anywhere?” she asked in a professional manner, which you found adorable. “Are you comfortable?”

“It’s perfect, Donna, although if it were a wicker dress I would wear it anyway, because you would have made it,” you said with blushing cheeks, moving in a childish way, completely in love.

“Don’t be dramatic,” she said, kissing your cheek and grabbing your hand to guide you to the table, sitting you down in the chair in a gentlemanly manner. “Eat, it will get cold.”

“Yes,” you said, picking up the cutlery, your eyes on that plate of pancakes. “Um, Donna, all of this…”

She looked at you, taking a piece of toast.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it's just that... Honey, preparing this must has taken you a long time,” you said with a regretful whisper, regretful for having doubted her. “What time did you get up?”

“That doesn't matter, tesoro,” she said, with a tender smile, caressing your hand. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Yes, of course, my love,” you said, biting your lip and starting to eat breakfast. “I don't know how to thank you.”

“Thank her?” Angie interrupted, with her hands on her hips. “Hey, I helped! You haven't even seen my gift!”

“A gift? You? For me?” you asked amused, arching your eyebrows.

“Angie, behave, remember what we talked about,” Donna said with a serious voice, glancing at the puppet. “Don't… do that,” she protested with a sigh when Angie climbed onto your lap. “Angie, you have to…”

“Yes, yes, leave the fool alone because it's her birthday and blah, blah, blah,” Angie said, moving exaggeratedly on top of you. “Look, look, fool, this is for you,” she said, effusively pointing at a piece of paper that you didn't see at first.

“Wow, thanks,” you said, caressing the doll's head, to which, of course, she protested with a grunt.

You laughed when you saw what that gift from the doll contained. It looked like a drawing, some doodles that had the shape of people. Yes, Angie had definitely gifted you with a clumsy drawing of you and Donna, one that reminded you, in a funny way, of the innocent drawing of a child.

“It's... very nice,” you said, holding back your laughter, a gesture the brunette also made, watching that Angie didn't bother you too much.

“Nice? It's a damn work of art,” Angie said, too close to your face, letting herself fall on your legs, pointing at the drawing. “Look carefully, silly, I've drawn you well, I haven't put horns on you or anything like that... although the temptation was great...”

“Wow, I appreciate the detail, Angie,” you said, shaking your head.

“Angie, lasciala estare,” Donna whispered in a kind tone. “There's still a lot of day ahead, tesoro, your time is mine. What do you feel like doing?”

“Oh, after this… well, I wouldn't like you to worry about me anymore, why don't you work on your dolls?” you said kindly, knowing making that breakfast hadn't been a matter of a few minutes.

Poor Donna should have been awake for hours, just for you, you should do something to compensate for her effort and, leaving her alone, working on her dolls without you bothering her was something she always appreciated.

“No, nothing like that, amore mio,” Donna said, shaking her head. “Today is your day, and I want to spend it with you… come on, get up,” she whispered, getting up and raising one of the glasses. “(Y/N), salute.”

“Oh, salute,” you repeated, clinking the glasses softly.

The day had started badly, but you barely remembered that frustration. It would be an unforgettable day, you were sure.

It was strange to see Donna doing everything you asked her to do. You could almost feel like a boss. The morning was very calm, with tender moments of caresses, kisses, words of love, well, as always, but with a special emphasis on making everything the lady did, perfect for you.

You decided what book to read, what to do… You were in charge, it was clear that it was your day, a day where nothing else mattered but you.

A delicious meal, a birthday cake… every hour that passed was better than the last. The smile never left your girlfriend's face, except when she got a little nervous about simple gestures like lighting the candles or watching you make a silent wish. You were clear about what you were going to ask for: to always be by her side, no matter what.

The afternoon came slowly and with it a kind of pause in your euphoric attitude. While Donna cleared the table because, of course, the birthday girl shouldn't do it, you looked out the window, with a melancholic smile on your face.

You sighed, but not with sadness, rather with longing. When you were younger, birthdays were much simpler, but laughter, games, and above all, your friends, were the protagonists. Adult life was cruel, taking those moments away from you, leaving them in your mind as mere memories, memories of a better, different time, one you didn't know that had an expiration date.

You couldn't be happier. Donna had done everything she could to see you smile, to make you feel special, you even suspected that there were even more surprises for you, since the Angie doll was never the best at keeping secrets, and Donna got very nervous when she seemed to want to say something dangerous.

You were eager to know what else was in store for you, but you couldn't help but feel a little sad. As expected, the lady in black noticed that small change in your face, sitting next to you on the couch and running a hand through your hair.

“Tesoro, I notice sadness in your eyes,” she said in a soft voice, lifting your chin.

You smiled awkwardly, shaking your head and kissing Donna to distract her, a strategy that usually worked, but that day, it didn't.

“It's nothing, darling,” you said, playing with her hands.

Her eye shone with the shadow of suspicion and a hand caressed your cheek to make you more nervous.

“(Y/N)…” she murmured, looking at you with pity, begging you to be honest with her.

That day, that very day, you couldn't deny her the reality, not after everything she had done for you.

“Fine,” you sighed, letting yourself fall on her shoulder, resting your head on her chest so she could continue caressing you. “I was thinking about when I was younger.”

“Younger? You're 19,” she joked, with a tender smile, without stopping hugging you.

“Yes, but… I don't know… I've already told you about my friends, right? You know, Tatiana and Martha,” you commented, absentmindedly playing with the buttons on her dress.

“Mm,” the lady murmured, listening to you attentively.

It didn't matter if it was your birthday or not, the ability to listen was one of her greatest virtues, even if you knew that deep down, any person who wandered through your mind and wasn't her, caused Donna a certain… annoyance.

“I miss them,” you whispered with a voice broken by memories. “When it was one of our birthdays we would have a party at home… there were streamers, gifts, games…”

“I understand,” she said dryly, kissing your hair lovingly.

“W-Well, you know that they are now maids of the castle… I haven't seen them for two years, although they have written me some letters,” you commented distractedly, trying not to be sad. “It's not because it's my birthday or anything, but sometimes I wish I could see them, even if only for a little while.”

“Who knows, maybe someday,” Donna said, showing how little interest she had in you seeing your friends, something you already knew made her terribly jealous. “Well, you better stop thinking about the past.”

“Yeah… you're right,” you said, getting up and trying to forget about the subject. “What do we do now? There's still a lot of day left… do you have any more surprises for me?” you asked amused, tickling the lady, who moved away comically.

“Hey, basta, basta, tesoro,”she said, laughing involuntarily, grabbing your wrists. “Maybe you'd like to take a walk with me.”

“More surprises?” you asked anxiously, following the lady, who got up from the couch.

“If I told you…”

“Yes, yes, it wouldn't be a surprise. I'm going to get my coat,” you said, jumping slightly on the floor as the lady in black walked over to the Angie doll, whispering something to her.

“Yes, ma'am!” the puppet said, making a funny military gesture.

You frowned when you saw that Angie stayed at home while Donna subtly dragged you through the grounds, taking you out of the mansion. What did the lady have in store for you? There was only one way to find out.

With that leisurely stroll, you forgot about your birthday. You walked alongside Donna through the woods, with the warmth of her hand in yours, with her smile always present, with her whispers of love becoming the melody that followed the rhythm of your steps.

“Mm, this is quite relaxing,” you commented, getting a little closer to Donna, who smiled distractedly, walking with you towards a slightly secluded corner. “Where are we?”

“I used to come here when I was little,” the brunette commented, pointing at some weathered wooden benches, which pointed to stunning views of the mountains, which shone pink due to the increasingly faint rays of the sun.

“It's beautiful,” you said, sitting next to Donna on one of the benches, taking in the views, not wanting to say anything so as not to interrupt that comfortable silence.

Caresses, kisses... it was a truly romantic moment, and, without the Angie doll to spoil it, you could really consider it perhaps the most romantic moment of your life.

“Tesoro, come, turn around,” the lady said, breaking the calm with her melodic voice, grabbing both of your hands and guiding your body. “I want you to stay here for a moment, okay?”

“Here? Oh...” you said, raising and lowering your eyebrows petulantly. “Why?” you purred, dragging out your words.

“Mm, you'll see,” she said, bending down to steal a kiss from you and looking around. “But you have to close your eyes.”

“Come on,” you said in a mocking tone, crossing your arms.

“Fallo e basta…” Donna said, with a slightly darker voice, frowning.

“Oh, okay, okay,” you said whispering and rolling your eyes, swinging your legs on the bench.

You heard her footsteps in the snow, moving away, but it didn't take long for you to hear them again, barely a minute later.

“Open them, tesoro,” Donna murmured, while you frowned due to a sweet aroma that was very close to you.

“Oh, Gods…” you sighed tenderly when you saw in front of you a bouquet of carnations perfectly placed in Donna's hands. “Donna… they're beautiful…”

“Do you like them?” she asked, sitting next to you again. “Look, have you noticed the color?”

“The color? Oh, that's right, they have a strange color,” you said, looking at the petals of the flowers, which, certainly, had an unusual tone. “Wow...”

Donna laughed amused, joining her hand with yours and resting her head on your shoulder.

“Does the color of your eyes seem strange to you?” she whispered in your ear, kissing it slowly. Then you realized.

“No...” you said with a distrustful smile, looking at the color of the flowers and checking that her words told the truth.

The color of the carnations was exactly the same as your eyes. It was something wonderful, something you had never seen.

“I can't believe it, Donna, it's amazing. How did you do it?” you said excitedly, devouring the doll maker with kisses. “Donna, you're wonderful…”

“A magician never reveals the tricks, (Y/N),” the brunette sighed, fighting against your merciless kisses. “I wanted to give you a special gift, one that was just for you, although for me these flowers are nothing compared to your beauty.”

“Mm…” you purred again, with your cheeks hot from blushing. “Is that also a gift?”

“No, it's just a compliment,” she joked, getting up after one last kiss and extending her hand towards yours. “Come on, tesoro, it's getting dark, let's go home.”

“Yes, let's definitely go back,” you said amused, letting the lady pull you for another romantic walk towards the mansion.

When you arrived you noticed something strange, the door was half open and darkness dominated inside. You paused a bit, glancing at the brunette.

“Um, Donna, did you leave the door open?” you asked, hiding behind her, who shook her head.

“No, of course not,” she said, climbing the steps and entering the dark mansion, disappearing in the darkness.

“Donna?” you asked when you lost sight of her, with a bad feeling, walking through the dark mansion. “Donna, honey… where are you?”

You were scared by that sudden and unexpected loneliness. The mansion wasn’t exactly a warm and welcoming place. Walking through it alone was the closest thing to a tunnel of terror that you knew.

“Angie? Donna?” you called nervously, opening the living room door.

You had to close your eyes, as a blinding light suddenly appeared, along with some strange voices.

“Happy birthday!” two girls shouted, throwing streamers at you while you blinked in astonishment.

“T-Tatiana… Martha…” you sighed almost without a voice when you recognized your friends, your only friends, who were laughing happily in a room decorated just for you, for your birthday. “Gods… Girls!” you shouted, throwing yourself into their arms, hugging them tightly while they did the same.

“I'm glad to see you, (Y/N),” Tatiana said, equally excited, almost crying in that hug of pure friendship.

“Yes, (Y/N), you look great,” Martha commented while you couldn't hold back your tears.

“But, but... what are you two doing here?” you asked nervously, visibly excited. “Y-You were in the castle and...”

“Yes, well, it seems Lady Beneviento convinced Alcina to let us go out for a while and come here,” one of your friends said, approaching the table, where the food and drink were awkwardly placed. There was no doubt, it was Angie's doing.

“Lady Beneviento?” you asked confused, looking back, where the lady in black was, camouflaged in a dark corner of the hall. “Oh, Donna...”

You sighed, shaking your head and running towards the lady, who was obviously hiding her face behind the black veil.

“Donna...” you sighed with a tear running down your cheek, mercilessly squeezing the doll maker. “What have you done?”

“Well, I just called Alcina a few days ago to see if she had two spare maids,” she commented amused, fighting off your attacks of affection.

“This is too much…” you said, looking back at your friends, who were setting up the things on the table. “Donna, you know how important my friends are to me… it's been…”

“Two years since you last saw them, I know,” she cut you off.

“But you don't like me to get involved with anyone,” you said, confused, looking at her with a frown.

“What I like doesn't matter, tesoro, today is your day, and I want you to be happy,” Donna whispered, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “So… go, don't make them wait, they don't have much time.”

“Yes, it's true,” you said, moving away from her arms, but turning around as soon as you started to walk. “Hey, and… what about you?”

“Don't worry about me, I still have to prepare a delicious birthday dinner for you,” the lady said, giving you a kiss on the cheek through her veil. “Go, tesoro, enjoy.”

“I love you,” you said with a loving smile. “Donna, I love you so much.”

“Vai...” she whispered impatiently, pointing to your friends with her head.

You obeyed and prepared to spend one of the best evenings of your life. Everything was just as you remembered it: laughter, anecdotes, interesting conversations... It seemed like you had gone back in time. You were with your friends, with your best friends, enjoying a nice birthday party. Each one of them even had a detail with you, a gift.

You were in paradise, you laughed, you cried, you talked... Everything was so wonderful that you could hardly believe it and thanks to Donna. The lady in black, the lonely and sick doll maker, had given up her jealousy, her reluctance to see you interact with other people; she had sacrificed a few hours with you so you, only you, could be happy.

The dress and the flowers were wonderful but… that time with your friends, that chance to remember happier times… that was, by far, the best of all the gifts.

“Now, let’s play,” Angie said, interrupting your conversation, causing the two girls to look at each other with a comical expression of distrust. “What are you making those faces for?”

“Calm down, girls, Angie is harmless,” you said amused, as Angie began to deal out some cards. “But I warn you, she cheats.”

“Hey!” the doll protested, looking at you dangerously.

“Oh, okay…” one of your friends said, taking the cards from the doll’s hand, the doll who was making a brusque gesture with her mouth. “Ah, she wants to bite me!”

“Calm down, silly, silly, I only bite people I don’t like,” Angie said, sitting in front of you with the cards in her hand.

“Do you like us?” Tatiana asked, looking at you a bit scared. You laughed amused.

“Mm, I don't know yet, maybe if you lose…” the doll murmured.

Games, laughter, Angie… you couldn't ask for anything else, you didn't want anything else, you had everything.

Just as time went by, your friends left the mansion, with the promise of returning whenever they could. The day was ending, although not before a romantic and silent dinner with Donna, a dinner that marked the end of what was clearly the happiest day of your life.

“It's been a wonderful day, darling,” you said with a tender voice as you sat on the bed, exhausted, but happy.

“It’s been?” she asked, approaching slowly. “I'm not done yet, tesoro, I have one last gift for you…” she whispered in your ear, slowly moving away and bringing her fingers to the buttons of her dress.

“Oh, I think I'm going to love that gift,” you said in a sensual voice, watching how, little by little, the brunette's clothes disappeared, ready to give you one last gift, in a much more intimate way.

Passion was quite common within the walls of the bedroom, but that night the pleasure was impregnated with pure happiness, with everything you had experienced during the day.

Donna was much more romantic, slow and affectionate than usual, giving you all the pleasure possible, almost forgetting about herself. Of course, you couldn't allow that, she deserved everything you could give her and much more.

Exhausted, worn out by the screams, the moans and the passion, you collapsed on the bed, hugging your naked bodies, decorating them with small kisses that seemed tireless.

“Donna…” you whispered as you snuggled into her chest, enjoying her caresses, her slow and calm breathing. “I've been wondering…”

“Mm?” she murmured, placing a soft kiss on your head, squeezing you with her arms so the warmth of your body didn't leave hers.

“Hey, when's your birthday? I don't think you've ever told me,” you asked, to know when was the day when you would have to put in your maximum effort just for her, something you were quite sure you would do.

“Oh, well…” Donna said, nervous. “There's still a long time, tesoro.”

“Oh, okay,” you sighed, still in doubt, but focusing on those tender affections, on her sweet kisses and caresses. “Today has been the best day of my life, Donna.”

“Really?” she asked amused, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “I'm glad to hear it.”

“I really don't want it to end,” you said sleepily, letting the euphoria subside and the tiredness to take over your body.

Donna laughed, turning off the light and positioning you in a comfortable position so you could rest.

“I love you, (Y/N), you are the love of my life,” she whispered, making you smile.

Your day was finally over, but the routine would never be the same again, not after that fantastic birthday.

The next day, you woke up next to her, you showered together… normality had returned, that peaceful and tender normality. Of course, after breakfast, Donna went to the workshop to make her dolls after convincing her that you would take care of cleaning up the mess from the party the day before. It was the least you could do.

“Let's see, where I put you…” you muttered as you picked up an ancient history book your friend Martha gave to you, looking for room on one of the shelves. “Yes, here.”

Nodding and sighing, you placed the book in a gap, gently pushing it. A dull sound startled you, making you bring your hand to your chest.

“Jeez!” you said, taking a breath and checking what the source of that sound had been, going around the shelf. “Oh, isn't there room among so many books?” you asked into the air.

By putting the new book in that gap, you had accidentally pushed another one that was unseen in the same place. You definitely had to ask Donna for another shelf… but that would be another day.

“Well…” you sighed, bending down to pick it up, reading the title with curiosity. “Um… Um… no…” you said amused at not understanding a single word and missing the opportunity to, perhaps, read something interesting.

As you placed the book back down as best you could, something slipped from between its pages, gracefully flying towards your feet.

“Okay, you want me to bend down today, right? I'm not that young anymore,” you said with an exaggerated gesture, picking up what had fallen. “Oh, wow,” you said curiously, seeing that it was a black and white photograph. “But... who is this pretty girl?”

In the photograph there was a dark-haired girl with a scar on her eye, Donna, no doubt. It wasn't the first time you saw a photo of her when she was a child, but this one was something different, since, with a smile (something rare to see in little Beneviento) she was holding a brand new Angie doll.

“How curious, I should show it to Donna,” you said amused, turning the photograph over and checking that there was something written on it, along with a date. “Oh…”

Donna Beneviento, nono compleanno…

“What? Novembre?” you said, reading the date over and over again. “No, no, no, it can't be…”

No matter how you read it, the number was written clearly. It wasn't just a number and a month, it was also an overwhelming revelation that you couldn't believe, you just couldn't.

“Gods… it can't be… Donna!” you screamed, clenching your fists tightly at that unexpected fact, running quickly towards the elevator.

It wasn't just any date, of course. On that old photograph was written the damn day of her birthday, a day that wasn't just any day, it was the same day as yours.

You didn't understand why she never told you, why she refused to tell you that you shared a birthday, why she tried so hard to hide it, and above all, why she did so many things for you when she deserved them too.

The emotion of that horrible discovery broke your heart, and as you walked to the workshop to demand explanations, you broke down, tears starting to slide down your cheeks.

“Donna!” you screamed, opening the doors of the workshop, scaring the lady, who was working on her dolls tirelessly. “Donna… Donna, Donna, Donna…” you repeated, throwing yourself hastily into her arms, crying on her shoulders.

“T-Tesoro… amore mio, what's wrong?” the lady said, handling your arms as best she could, scared by your nervous attitude. “(Y/N), why are you crying?”

“What's wrong with you? Are you stupid or something?” you asked, moving away from her hug and making her open the eye wide, confused by your abrupt words. “What does this mean?” you asked, throwing the photograph at her.

“Oh, it's me, I think I was…” she commented distractedly, looking at herself.

“9, yes,” you said before she continued, turning the photo over and pointing at the inscription. “What is this, huh?”

Donna closed her eye and sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“But… but… why didn't you tell me?” you asked with a sad, guilty look. “Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday too?”

“(Y/N), I…” she said, leaving the photo on the table and taking your hands slowly. “Listen, tesoro, that's not important to me.”

“It's not important?” you repeated nervously, crossing your arms. “Gods, Donna… yesterday was, it was a wonderful day and… shit, Donna, you should have told me… It's not fair.”

“What's not fair?” the lady asked, calming your nerves with a caress.

“Everything you've done for me... all your gifts... fuck, Donna, it was your birthday too, you deserved all those things... you deserved...” you murmured, broken down again, letting yourself be embraced by the lady in black, who stood up and took your head to her chest. “Honey... why?”

“Shh, don't cry, please...” the lady whispered, in a calm tone, moving your body romantically. “Don't cry, my princess...”

“Donna, it's not fair, you should have had the best day of your life,” you sobbed. “I had to...”

“No, amore mio...” she said, grabbing you by the shoulders. “For me the passage of time is just an illusion, it's just days, months, years... the only thing that matters to me, tesoro, is to see you happy, to make you happy every day, to celebrate with you that passage of time that for me is nonexistent. The best gift you can give is to love me as much as I love you.”

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

I saw some people saying that the Vietnam Football Federation should learn from RFEF about investing in women's football and not being gender-biased. VFF has its own problems, but RFEF is on a completely different level of bad.

Jorge Vilda went into the players' rooms while they were sleeping and asked to talk at night. Mai Duc Chung said that his principle is that if he has something to say, he will meet the players on the field, in a public place, where everyone can see, never meet the players in the room. The Vietnamese players have a great coach who loves them, respects them, takes care of them. Spanish players have never had a coach like that. I wish they have a really good coach, but I don't have much hope for the RFEF 😅

I'm not writing this to praise my country's football as the best. Obviously we have a big gap in level compared to many other teams. But not everything in Europe is perfect, they have their own serious problems

thanks for sharing information about the vietnam women's team. i am not as familiar with that program. 🙏

and every federation, no matter how big or small, has its problems. but at the minimum we should not tolerate an environment in any federation where the coach abuses the players. zero tolerance. and just because a team has won a tournament doesn't automatically mean you should emulate that program in every aspect. aside from rfef, let's not forget that jill ellis won two world cups and she seems to be an absolutely horrible person.

and it's a good thing that vietnam has a good coach who respects the players and treats them fairly. that's hopefully makes for a good foundation and they can grow from there.

so one thing that rfef did that i have not seen reports that us soccer did was employ a strategy of divide and conquer. there was a lot more player unity at first, especially after the euros. but the federation completely tore it apart. it's one thing to have players with different backgrounds and ideas (lloyd vs. rapinoe) but it's another situation where the federation is exploiting that divide and causing players to second guess their decisions. that's what happened that led to 'las 15.'

and the other major difference is that in spain, we have the sports law that requires players to attend a call-up otherwise they risk losing their license to play football at all. usa does not have any such law and so, there isn't that risk of exploitation of younger players as replacements that spain dealt with.

so a super corrupt and divisive federation that blocked all unity efforts and a draconian law. plus, the uswnt were able to successfully use us labour laws to mount a legal challenge based on discrimination and violation of federal law. unfortunately, we do not have the same set of facts or laws to take advantage of in spain's situation.

[worthitino]

SIGMA, MOIRA AND JUNKRAT FAMILY DYNAMIC BECAUSE, FUCK YOU, IT'S NECESSARY.

* sigma and moira probably had a one night stand YEARS AGO and ultimately decided to put a very young jamison up for adoption and then the entire ow lore happens.

* junkrat, being fairly intelligent, probably realised the similar features that he had to sigma and moira when they joined overwatch and raised an eyebrow. he wasn't shocked when they shared dna with him.

* moira, at most, tolerates junkrat. he's loud and obnoxious. she's not a fan of that HOWEVER... my boy sigma is a good dad! he and junkrat get along and both passionately go on about their fields.

* sigma and junkrat are both autistic because i said so.

* sigma actually acknowledges junkrat is smart, just filled with radiation. moira is indifferent to their madness.

* moira enjoys teaching them both new things, despite being incredibly morally fucked. she managed to teach junkrat how to cook some decent irish meals and a few other things.

* they all like explosions and violence. especially moira and junkrat. especially moira and junkrat.

* moira actually named junkrat 'jamison', as it actually has celtic roots.

* junkrat's blonde hair is a resessive gene from moira's side of the family, as she has lighter hair than sigma.

* junkrat does have more similarities to sigma, however. they both get distracted easily and enjoy learning about paradoxes.

* they all get along with each other, but during game night it's a literal war.

[sunshikilo]

wanderer's adventures in sumeru

THANK YOU FOR 70 FOLLOWERS BY THE WAY!! some news, i made an offical art twitter account! 🥳 its @/marsunshi and i linked it, right now im focused on genshin there and will be a lot more active, but im still going to try and post mcsm content here because i have Many wips ^^ i also have my ao3 linked there and i have a few drafts of mcsm works that i might post at some point..who knows

[torchstelechos]

I adore how Bonnie is written, they're so mean and kind at the same time. Immature and mature, traumatized but trying. Its so fun to see, because they cover for Siffrin (makes nyangry pun) and make sure he's eaten food but at the same time will cry and say "I hate you" without considering how that may affect Siffrin. Its fascinating because they're just a child, a small child thrown into a horror story and they have to deal with it. I love them dearly <3

[babygirlgiles]

Why does no one else see my vision for post-war Effie Trinket. Like that woman does NOT become a civil servant, she does not join the ranks of government service. She is 100% New Panem’s first influencer. She was already having her It Girl moment as the escort of District Twelve’s victors beforehand and now there’s public perception that she was this Hunger Games insider playing the long con to dismantle the system from within and paid this great sacrifice for it by being tortured by Snow’s cadre for her efforts. Which is not true at all because she had No Clue what was going on but Plutarch needs new programming to fill all the hours that used to be taken up by Hunger Games related media so he decides to capitalize on Effie having Her Moment. And with people being allowed to travel between districts for the first time in over a generation and newfound freedom of information, there would a nationwide fascination how other people live. Effie ends up with her own lifestyle/travel series where she visits different regions of Panem and even exotic far away places such as “England”. She’s posting beach selfies on Panemstigram to promote her upcoming episode on lobster fishing off District Thirteen’s revitalized coastline.

She even gets her own daytime talk show at one point. She tries (and fails) for years to get Peeta on the show as a guest. Katniss has never watched a single episode.

[somegrumpynerd]

Did a little doodle of the twins on my lunchbreak, Nightmare is reading the story out for Dream c:

[lunarmoves]

grips you by the shoulders. i love it when people include bits of their personality in their writing. i love it when you can see their interests and their mannerisms. i love it when they share their own knowledge through descriptions or dialogue. i love it when i learn something new because someone cared enough to add it to their stories. i love it wh

[footnoteinhistory]

John Larroquette as Dan Fielding in every episode of Night Court (1984-1992)