#can totally tell that tea was made by an American

[ink-and-dagger]

What did you like in this season ? Favorite part ?

Young Silco licking his lips.

And Ekko trying tea for the first time.

[qqueenofhades]

I would like to... gently shake the people going 'Dick Cheney/Alberto Gonzalez/[insert neoconservative architect here] endorsing Harris is entirely and only a bad look for Harris' because that's not the point. And like, I get feeling weird about it (I've been unimpressed with Dick's backpedaling since Liz Cheney got primaried), but: Trump is proving too extreme for THE PEOPLE WHO MADE HIM POSSIBLE. This is their consequences. THAT'S the point.

Look, this is what I think about it: I fucking hate Dick Cheney and all the architects of the Bush Junior neoconservatism-early-aughts-War-on-Terror-Patriot-Act-No-Child-Left-Behinding Republican Party that laid the groundwork for the Tea Party and then for Trump. If there was any justice in the world, Dubya would be at the Hague for a war crimes tribunal and not allowed to sit in Texas painting dogs and enjoying a quiet retirement. But he was fortunate to be the president of the most powerful country in the world, and America doesn't obey international law unless it feels like it, so that's what we get. (And yes, someone asked Dubya if he was going to endorse in 2024, following Cheney, and was told, no doubt with much pious handwringing, that "President Bush retired from presidential politics many years ago." But he's still raising money for MAGA Senate candidates in Pennsylvania, evidently. Fuck you, George W. Bush. Kids these days don't say it enough.)

However, since literally the entire pre-Trump establishment Republican party is now deciding that Trump is too insane, fascist, and dangerous even for them, I'm not surprised but still annoyed that Online Leftist Logic (TM) has translated that to "Harris must secretly be an early-noughties hard-right neocon Republican and that's why they want to vote for her!!!" Most if not all of them have said that they openly disagree with her policies but are voting for her anyway because she is the only way to maintain American constitutional democracy. And yes, we're all shocked that DICK FUCKING CHENEY, architect of the Iraq War and the Patriot Act, felt that there was in fact a line of fascist government overreach that he wasn't willing to cross, but if that's the case -- if even these completely terrible warmongering corporate assholes are like "uh Trump is too bad even for us to support," then you should, I don't know, maybe listen to that. But as ever, I search for logic in vain.

Likewise: Harris has made zero policy concessions to these Republicans and she never went fishing for Cheney's endorsement specifically. She didn't suddenly declare Iraq a totally okay and normal thing in order to get Cheney and his warhawks on board, and yes, Old Dickhead probably has no small amount of personal motive to get back at Trump considering what he did to Liz. But that's the thing where apparently political motives should only ever be pure, moral, and Perfect, and taking the right action for the "wrong" reasons is still disqualifying because you weren't thinking enough pure moral thoughts while you did it, or something. I don't give a fuck why Cheney decided to vote for Harris, because I don't respect his opinion and can't foresee myself ever doing so. But because we are in an unprecedented historical moment where even DICK GODDAMN CHENEY thinks that Donald Trump is too dangerous to ever have power again, I will thank him for doing that and that alone and then tell him to hit the f'n road if he thinks he deserves a scrap of credit or Democratic policy concessions for it. He doesn't. He sucks. But he's still making a choice that we need to see made at this moment, and people who don't get that, as usual, can STFU.

Basically: Cheney's endorsement is not directed at you, and it's not intended to move voters who already fit your profile and therefore think, like I do, that Cheney can eat shit. It's directed to all the career-Republican-politician types who can see him doing that and decide that they can do the same thing. Hell, we just had 17 former staffers of Ronald Reagan announcing their Harris endorsement (in addition to the 200+ Bush, McCain, Romney alumni who already signed on and all the ex-Trump officials at the DNC) and going so far as to insist that Ol' Ronnie Raygun himself would have supported Harris. Now look. I hate Ronald Reagan more than any other twentieth-century president. The degree to which he ALSO laid the groundwork for incredible damage to America cannot be overstated. But because I am not an idiot, I can see that this does not mean Harris has suddenly turned into Reagan in her policies. So. Yeah.

The other thing to note here is that Harris has seen the advantage in cultivating a bipartisan coalition and making a cross-party case for voting her to preserve American democracy. Now, a lot of the Republicans have said that they are going to stay Republicans and they want to purge their party of Trump and MAGAism, they are trying to buy time for that transition to happen by voting for Harris, and while I have never voted for or agreed with a Republican in my whole life, I actually think that's a good thing! I don't WANT to fear the end of American democracy every four years because the Republican Party has become a screaming shitgibboning insane vehicle of American Gilead while inciting stochastic terrorism against Springfield, Ohio and everyone else who doesn't bow down to Trumpist Dear Leader and his KKK alt-right Elon Muskified supporters! I don't WANT this howling fascist conspiracy-theory-puppet-of-Vladimir-Putin black hole of violence to be just what we have to accept as the center-right (except you know, now far-far-far-far-can't-see-it-with-a-telescope-right) party in America! I would prefer it if we had a functioning democracy again where both parties were engaging in fair competitiveness and good faith and had the basic premise of making people's lives better, even if they disagreed about how to do it! I would REALLY like it if we could go back to the days of disagreeing about taxes and foreign policy and social welfare -- you know, NORMAL THINGS -- instead of Commander Vance and the Project 2025 foot soldiers trying to install a theocratic fascist dictatorship! I WOULD LIKE THAT A WHOLE LOT!

That said: I have pretty much reached my limit with asking people to vote. I have done it for 8+ years (since before Trump was elected the first time) and I'm done. Either you know the stakes of this election at this point, or you're so blindly and stupidly committed to misunderstanding them that there's nothing I or anyone else can possibly do to convince you. I still see people posting a lot of stuff from the bad-faith anti-democratic leftist cranks and arguing with them endlessly and... why? Why? Why are you giving them the oxygen and exposure that they crave, and which is giving them more attention than anyone else is giving them? Block them. Mute them. STOP ENGAGING WITH EVERYTHING THEY SAY EVEN IF YOU'RE TRYING TO REFUTE IT. It's not going to work, and at this point, it's not remotely conducive to winning this election. The Great Myth of the Undecided Voter (TM) is another one that, I hope, can finally bite the dust, and the actual undecided voters who are out there are not the ones posting dirtbag leftist bullshit about Harris on The Website Formerly Known as Twitter. This election is now completely down to a numbers game: who can make their identified voters turn out to vote. So please. Spend your time and energy on reaching those folks, who might want to or have said they will vote but need a push or extra help to make sure they do.

That being the case, if lifelong Republicans want to vote for Harris and help defeat a Trump dictatorship, they're actually being more helpful for the cause of American democracy than every single shrieking Online Leftist out there, and maybe they should think about that. I'm amused at how they still think they can make demands of the Democrats, because -- when your entire plan from the word go has been "I'm not voting for the Democrats and there's nothing you can do to make me!!!" -- why are you surprised that they don't take your thoughts and opinions into account? That's the basic simplest Democracy 101 version of how electoral politics works. If you have removed yourself from their voter pool and laugh and scoff at any suggestion that you should enter it, then they're not gonna listen to you or think that they should make policy to appease you (which is good, because most of these people are fucking nuts). That's why they're blowing a gasket disowning AOC, still one of the most left-wing members in the House, because she wants to actually win and make real changes in society and has reached a happy-ish marriage with the Democratic party, instead of virtuously losing her seat and becoming irrelevant like some other members of the Squad who got primaried out this year. And the Democrats have accepted many of AOC's views as mainstream policy! She didn't change, but she stayed in the party and worked with it, and the party as a whole is moving to where she was all along. But because any hint of compromise or working to get results, rather than just posting self-righteous screeds on the internet, is Bad, she had to go, I guess. Or something.

Anyway. That's the that on that. If you want to win this election, target and talk to the people who have already identified themselves as likely or possible voters, they just need that extra push to become definite voters. I'm over the anti-democratic hypocritical leftist cranks as much as I am the screaming shitgibboning racist-mob-inciting fascists. If it takes some Republicans gritting their teeth and getting on board the "let's save American democracy" boat with me, then fine. They're actually willing to do the smallest tiny thing to make that outcome come about, and that means, for right now, they are the enemy of my enemy and I'll accept their help. After that, I would in fact like it if we had a sane center-right party again, once Trump is in jail and we can fumigate the MAGA rot. It's up to them.

[hotvintagepoll]

This is a three-way poll. Only one of these women will continue to the next round of the bracket.

Propaganda

Deborah Kerr (Bonjour Tristesse, An Affair to Remember, The King and I)— For several decades she held the record for most Oscar nominations without a win (6 in total), and she was a prolific leading lady throughout the 40s and 50s. She's best known today for the romance An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant, and as the governess in The King and I. Many people have this erroneous perception of her as extremely prim, proper, and virginal, but this could not be further from the truth. When she first came to Hollywood under MGM she was typecast into boring decorative roles, but broke sexual boundaries for herself and Hollywood generally in From Here to Eternity, when she made out (horizontally!) with Burt Lancaster (on top of him!) in the famous Beach Scene. She went on to play many sexually conflicted women, a character type that would define most of her post- Eternity work. She continued to break Hays Code boundaries with Tea and Sympathy, which addresses homosexuality/homophobia head-on, and even did a topless scene in The Gypsy Moths 1969!! One of the only classic stars to do so. She deserves a more nuanced and frankly a hotter legacy than she currently has!!!

Keiko Awaji (Stray Dog, A Japanese Tragedy, When a Woman Ascends the Stairs)— Her role as Harumi— a dancer who lives with her mom and will go to incredible lengths for one nice dress— is so fucking killer. she more than holds her own against Toshiro Mifune, the incredible sense of dread and foreboding in their scenes has really stuck with me

Hazel Scott (Broadway Rhythm, Rhapsody in Blue)—ok ok let me tell you about Hazel Scott. She was a Trinidadian piano genius. By the age of 3 she could play the piano by ear. She would play jazzed-up versions of classics in nightclubs and could sing too! She appeared in five movies, and used her influence as a piano prodigy to improve Black representation in film—she turned down offensive parts, demanded equal pay, and always wore her own costumes to ensure she was portrayed as glamorous and beautiful. She was the first African-American woman to host her own television show, The Hazel Scott Show. She stood up for civil rights and was an overall icon! If you want to watch her being a genius, here she is playing two pianos at once. And here's this one that shows off her consummate glamor! [videos beneath the cut]

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Deborah Kerr:

I think she was one of my first crushes before I realised I was bi in The King and I when I watched it as a kid honestly. The kissing scene in From Here to Eternity is iconic for a reason. Actually tried to learn the accents for the characters she was playing if they weren't English which is more than pretty much anyone else was doing then. Played very restrained characters who frequently seemed to be desperate not to be so restrained. Did horror movies without venturing into hagsploitation tropes. Gave Marni Nixon the credit she deserved for her share of the singing in The King and I.

Anne Larsen is a peak late 1950s bisexual with big MILF energy. Have you seen the behind the scenes pics of her wearing a suit?? Have you????? Vote Deb as Anne Larsen.

Nominated for an Oscar six (6) times and never won, but besides her having actual talent (hot), and besides her looking Like That (very hot, also beautiful), she was always playing women who are, like, crazy repressed. Which makes it fun and easy for me to read these characters as queer. Icon!!!! You know what's hot? Playing ambiguously gay in vintage Hollywood.

Her face and talent and body, yes, ofc, duh. But also!!! Her HANDS!!!! I may be but a simple lesbian, but she is the best hactor (hand actor) that ever lived and that's HOT! For propriety's sake I feel I must redact a large portion of my commentary on this subject. Anyway. She's hot in her most famous roles (mentioned above), and also some of her sexiest hacting is on display in An Affair to Remember (her hand on the bannister when Cary Grant kisses her off-screen??? HELLO???), Tea and Sympathy (when she's trying to persuade Tom not to go out and she keeps flexing her hands like she wants to reach out to him but can't??? ALLY BEHAVIOR! WE STAN!), and The Innocents (which opens and closes with extended shots of her hands bc director Jack Clayton was also an ally and he did that for ME). Much of her appeal also lies in the fact that she often played deeply repressed characters and you know what's hot? When those uptight characters finally unravel. It's sexy. It's cathartic. It's erotic. Plus, she's beautiful to look at in both black & white and technicolor, and the more of her films you see, the more you can't help but fall in love!

Literally is in thee most famously sexy scene of all time (or maybe just during the hays code era which is what we're talking about HELLO), which is the beach scene with Burt Lancaster in from here to eternity. To quote a tumblr post of a screen capture of a tweet of a video of joy behar on the view: "y'know, there used to be movies where they were kissing on the beach... From Here to Eternity. They're kissing-- Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr are Kissing on the Beach and then the WAVES crash!! You know exactly what they did!"

She might have a reputation of being chaste and virginal or whatever, but we all know it's the quiet ones who are certifiable FREAKS

Keiko Awaji:

Hazel Scott:

[thevampiremarie]

Heartless

🔞 Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, smut in the next chapter (and the chapters after).

Reader is disabled/chronically ill (and so is the author)

You need health insurance. Ghost is sick of sharing living quarters with the rest of the 141. Soap, your childhood friend, thinks the two of you can fix each other’s problems.

Or, Ghost and you have to convince his command that you didn’t just meet each other and your marriage is totally, completely, 100% legit. Not for any, more practical reasons. And, of course, your married-couple accommodations only have one bed.

Chapter 1:

This will either be the stupidest decision you’ve ever made or the greatest stroke of brilliance you’ve ever had. And there is no in-between.

When Soap ducks his head into the coffee shop, you’re more than a little relieved to see him in one piece, plus or minus a few silvery scars scattered across his face and peeking out of his sleeves, the collar of his jacket.

And the dumbass aviators you bought him as a high school graduation present hang from the dip of his shirt. You know Soap thinks he looks badass, but the placement reminds you more of ‘Patagonia dad who likes hiking’ than it does ‘mysterious hardened special forces dude.’

He’s so built that he has to carefully pick his way between crowded tables, just so he doesn’t knock over someone’s drink or trip into a random stranger’s elbow.

You more or less tackle him into the biggest hug you can. “Soap! You’re not dead!” Ever since he joined his super-duper-top-secret whatever the fuck, you’ve gotten used to the communication dead zones in your years-long friendship. The silence never stops worrying you, though.

Johnny chuckles and practically lifts you off your feet. “Neither are you! Congratulations!” You know he’s relieved to see you as well by the way he ruffles your hair.

You fucking hate it when he does that, which is, of course, why it’s become a tradition every time you see him.

He pisses you off, you piss him off. “Twinning!”

The glare he tosses your way has all the menace of a kitten attacking a curtain. “Fuck does that mean? You know I can’t keep up with your American slang.” You’re a good friend who pre-ordered his ridiculous caramel latte with extra caramel, and Soap sits happily in front of it.

He learned that he enjoyed heart-stoppingly sweet drinks on accident - a case of mistaken identity where you unintentionally grabbed Soap’s macho Americano, and he drank half of your caramel latte in revenge. And here you are, years later, watching him slurp down a milk foam heart.

“Awww, too much for the brain cells you have left?” Teasing him as easy as breathing and a welcome distraction for the anxiety attack-inducing question you must ask.

The general coffee shop ambient noise swells in your ears. An espresso machine malfunctions, almost loud enough to make you jump, and you try to disguise it by sipping your iced tea. No caffeine; you’re nervous enough without it.

“I could have you arrested for that,” Soap quips. Please. As if you’d let him try. One call to his commanding officer about his pre-service shenanigans, and you’d have his ass court-martialed.

“Abuse of the power of the Armed Forces? Very ethical.” You raise an eyebrow and lace your voice with haughtiness, even flicking some hair over your shoulder.

Then you need to pass Johnny a few napkins to mop up the latte dripping from his nose out of laughter. “I’m glad to see you,” He tells you, and the sober, knowing look in his eyes makes your stomach drop out. He doesn’t miss a thing. He’d probably be dead or fired from his job if he did. “Though I know this isn’t a social call.”

Well. You’re in for it now. “Yeah, unfortunately, it isn’t.” The words taste like dust in your mouth, and the lemony-black tea barely washes it out. Just to give yourself something to do, you pop the plastic lid off and tip a couple of ice cubes into your mouth before chomping down.

“What’s going on?”

How do you summarize the horrifically, brutally stressful whirlwind of the last few weeks without inspiring the annoying, patronizing pity you’ve gotten from literally everyone else you’ve vented to? You’re not a victim to be coddled or a child to be given advice you’ve already thought of, tried, and failed at.

“I’m losing my health insurance at the end of the month” is what you decide on in the end.

He knows exactly what that means for you. For your future. Soap shakes his head ruefully. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You’ve been sick for a while, diagnosed the year after the two of you graduated high school. The kind of sick that is simply a freak accident of nature, causing your body to attack itself over and over until the day you’ll drop dead from complications. It wouldn’t take much; maybe a regular infection burning you alive with a fever your crippled immune system can’t stop, or a benign cut from a kitchen knife that will bleed and bleed until you’re halfway to the coroner’s office.

And then there’s your shitty, damaged, degenerated spine that keeps you in bed for weeks at a time with crippling, numbing pain.

Without health insurance, things won’t look good for your quality of life. And you like your quality of life to be decent. You’d settle for passable.

Really, it sounds worse than it is, and you try to console him. “It’s okay. It was eventually going to happen. I had hoped to have a little more time, though.” You remember the call from the insurance company like it just happened yesterday. You were loading dishes into the dishwasher and listening to Fleetwood Mac on the radio. And some poor customer service representative told you they were increasing your monthly payments beyond what they knew you could afford, so they’d have to drop you.

You watch him open his mouth as if to tell you that you should’ve said something sooner. But he’s been deployed for the past four months. He pauses and resets to something a little more helpful. “How can I help?” That’s something you have liked about Johnny a lot since you were kids. He cares more about what he can do.

Your anxiety permits your lungs to take one big, fortifying inhale. “Well…” Dragging it out will only make this worse, you know, but you really, really, really hate that it’s come to this. “This is fucking embarrassing.” You tried to find a way to pay the premiums; you really did. But you work forty hours a week already and trying to get more shifts, maybe find a new job, do this, do that, appeal, all of that has been futile and draining. “Will you marry me?”

He drops his half-empty cup on the table, forceful enough that some of the coffee spills out. “What?”

Soap’s partially-scandalized shock is not what you hoped for as a reaction. But you suppose you shouldn’t have expected anything better.

The worst part of this conversation is over. It can’t get more nerve-wracking. “Marry me. Like. Get legally married. I could get on military benefits, and my meds would be covered.” He doesn’t swing your way, but surely signing some paper and standing before a judge is, like, not the most terrifying thing Soap has ever done. “And- and I know there’s stuff in it for you, too, like a better apartment or whatever. I can cook. Better than you, that’s for sure.” One of your friends had to teach him how not to burn water.

He just sits there in silence. “Please,” You add on softly. Desperately. This is your last-ditch attempt, your Hail Mary.

At last, Soap’s shoulders slump, and you know, from that alone, that he’s gonna say no. Miracles are rarely performed for ordinary people. “I would if I could, but… I’m sort of already married,” He sighs, then winces, waiting for your inevitable unhappy outburst.

…

You blink a few times, brain furiously recalibrating everything you know. John got married, and he didn’t even invite you? Or tell you? You’re supposed to be his friend. That’s so rude, ouch. You would have even gotten him some expensive shit off his gift registry.

A fucking Keurig, for God’s sake. “What? Who?” You demand, more outraged that he would leave you out of his life than you are over him declining your proposal

Underneath that deep, sunburnt tan, you see Soap blush. “Jeremy from final year.”

You’d throw your empty cup at him, but he’d just duck. “I knew you were fucking him! I knew it! You tried to gaslight me and say you weren’t, but I saw the hickies on his neck!” There were only so many times Johnny ducked out of a math classroom covered in sweat, followed shortly by your classmate, before you put the pieces together.

Oh, but the rest of your friends called you a conspiracy theorist and told you to mind your business. Now, who’s laughing?

Soap holds his hands up in the universal ‘don’t shoot’ sign. “He needed health insurance. We’re married on paper. Haven’t seen him in a few years, but I know he’s doing alright.” Naturally, he’s already selflessly committed marriage fraud. You honestly should’ve seen that coming; that’s why you wanted to propose in the first place and figured you’d have a slim chance of success.

“Shit.” Now you’re back to square one. And it’s a shitty square, with walls that close in around you with every passing second.

The regret in his eyes overflows when he sees your slumped shoulders, how you’re picking at your cuticles hard enough to bleed. “‘M sorry. If I wasn’t locked down, you know that I’d do it for you in a heartbeat.” The worst part is that you know he’s being sincere, not just parroting empty platitudes.

Right. Well. That’s it, then.

You rub at your closed eyes, then at the stress wrinkle between your eyebrows. “Fuck. It’s fine, I know. I will… I’ll figure it out,” You sigh. Less than convincing, but it doesn’t need to be.

There are probably options you just haven’t thought of yet. Or maybe you can work something out with your doctor, where you only get your meds every other month. “I got it covered. Don’t worry about me.” You instantly see Soap rush to shake his head, to tell you that he’s always worried about you. You want to chastise him, tell him that he has plenty of things to be worried about in his own life. “Shush. It’s fine.” But you don’t have the heart to rake him over the coals for it now, so you settle for that.

You should go. You have things to do, things that include crying in your bed with the curtains drawn and urgently refreshing your email to see if anyone's gotten back to you. New jobs, aid organizations for low-income people, any further bad news.

Soap catches your wrist before you can say the appropriate goodbyes and rush out of the cafe. “Look- hold on- let me… let me ask my… friends.” He wrinkles his nose as he says it with an odd, stilted tone. Like ‘friends’ is a replacement for something he can’t say out loud in a civilian setting.

You can put the pieces together. “Is that what you’re calling your coworkers?”

“That’s classified, shut up.” His Scottish accent pops out there stronger than good malt whiskey. Hope is an easily-caught flame and far more difficult to extinguish. When you smile at him, you find it’s not entirely false. “Let me ask around, okay? They’re good guys. You might need to do the heavy lifting with your sparkling personality, but I can try.”

‘Sparkling personality’ is sort of ominous. ‘Don’t give them shit,’ is what he means to say. That’s fine, you’ve worked in customer service before. You can be on your best behavior.

You’re not exactly sure what kind of dude would be willing to marry a stranger, even if that is the kind of dude you want to marry.

But desperate times, desperate measures. “Thank you. Really. It would mean the world and…  would probably save my life.” You didn’t mean to get as choked up at the end as you do. No one else has been willing to help you, though, and Soap’s answering hug feels like desperately needed hope reviving itself in your chest.

“I’ve got you. And I hope I can help in the end, even if it’s not what you originally had in mind.”

-

Soap runs through his team members in his mind as he waits for the gate guard to scan his ID, trying to recall who’s tied down and who isn’t.

Captain’s got a wife, he thinks, and he’s a wee bit too old for you anyway.

It takes a second for the starry-eyed guard to hand him back the card and lift the gate.

You picked a good time to call him up; not only is he in town, menacing the local army base, but so is the rest of the 141—a rarity.

Vargas would certainly charm you, but Soap trusts Alejandro with you about as far as he could throw him.

Out of all the idiots he went to school with, you’re the only idiot who stuck around through the early years of his service, and you pursued your friendship like a hound after a fox even when he couldn’t properly reciprocate.

So John feels some responsibility for looking out for you, as you’ve always looked out for him.

Garrick wouldn’t be a half-bad choice. Dependable, responsible. Friendly, so your sham marriage would at least be enjoyable.

His mind drifts to his own errant mostly-platonic husband as he parks the borrowed car in his numbered space. Jeremy. The last time they spoke was over three years ago? Maybe four. Jeremy had found himself a new boyfriend and called to let him know, asking if Soap wanted a legal divorce. He was moving to some godforsaken corner of America. Florida? Maybe. That place has got too many fuckin’ states for him to remember them all.

They worked it out - they’d stay married, and Jeremy would keep out of his way. No love lost.

Roach could do it for you in a pinch as well. A little quiet, but maybe you’d work out something like him and Jeremy. Staying out of each other’s way.

Soap dismisses Lieutenant Riley without a second thought. On his best day, Ghost is about as inviting and amenable as a particularly hungry great white shark. And even if God himself came down from Heaven and changed Ghost’s heart to be interested, Soap would worry about you.

A lot. Even more than he already does, since the day you sobbed in his arms after school when you were first diagnosed. Since that day he had to help you out of bed because you could neither walk nor miss any more class.

Does he trust Ghost enough to fight alongside him? To have his back when there’s a gun against his head? Absolutely. Does he think Ghost would treat one of his oldest friends properly, befitting of the funny, kind, vibrant person you are? Abso-fuckin’-lutely not.

So that puts Gaz and Roach in his top choices for you and Vargas as a last-tier resort.

Armed forces worldwide, in Scotland and America, are all about efficiency. Eliminating redundancy.

And if that’s the excuse Johnny uses to justify blindsiding his whole team at once, so he doesn’t need to have this conversation three damn times and hear three separate rejections? That’s between him and God.

He herds them like sheep, plucking the Captain from his office, Garrick and Alejandro from conditioning in the gym, disturbing Roach’s book. Ghost appears out of nowhere as if summoned by the disturbance and falls in behind Soap. Not a single damn sound, of course. While that’s useful on deployment, he still has to tamp down on the instinct to jump every time he sees a skull mask hovering out of the corner of his eye in everyday life.

No matter. The lieutenant will likely wander out when the subject matter is revealed. It would raise more red flags if he told Ghost off.

He barely gets Lt. Riley through the pool room door before Captain jumps him. “Sergeant. What’s the trouble?”

That’s fuckin’ rude. “Why’d you assume I’m in trouble?” He indignantly replies. Except… yeah, there was that time he borrowed a humvee he had no permission to touch, and Captain covered for him to Laswell. Shit. “Well, I’m not.” At least, not this time.

Soap opens his mouth to argue this because it’s hardly fair for Cpt. Price to point fingers only to be cut off. “What is it?” At least Price has the decency to file the sharp edges off of his voice this time.

Right. He almost feels guilty getting sidetracked over something so stupid when he’s gathered everyone here for an infinitely more important reason.

Where does he start? How the fuck does he proposition them without sounding absolutely mental? “I… Hear me out.” Instantly, Garrick shakes his head ‘no,’ and Cpt.’s face remains as unmoved as a brick wall. Definitely not how he should have opened. “Wouldn’t be asking if the situation wasn’t desperate.” Soap opens his hands in the vain hope that the gesture will make them listen, at minimum.

You loathed hospitals and doctor’s offices when you first got sick. Now, you see the inside of them so often that it hardly fazes you. Still, Johnny always went along when you asked. So you wouldn’t have to be alone.

The countless memories of holding your hand as some faceless nurse sticks an IV in your elbow is the motivation that steps on the gas. “I have this friend,’ He tells them.

“You have friends?” If Vargas weren’t separated from him by the pool table, he’d reach over and stick an elbow in his side. What is it, official ‘piss off Sgt. MacTavish’ day?

They get in a laugh at his expense. “Shut up, you reprobate.” He puts enough bite in his tone to cut through the ruckus with the keenness of a knife. “I have this friend. Since I was a lad. She’s a good girl, good person. She needs our help.”

Everyone knows what he means by ‘good person,’ and the mere mention of a civilian girl in distress softens Gaz’s scowl and Alejandro’s scorn.

Their Captain nods, now significantly more amenable to this conversation than he was at the beginning. “Help?” Progress is progress, and for the first time, Soap allows himself to think he might be able to persuade someone.

“Yeah, well… you know these fuckin’ Americans. They don’t give a damn if people die like dogs in the streets. She lost her health insurance, and she’s… She’s ill. She’ll be ill for the rest of her life.” That’s something Johnny will never understand about this side of the pond. The NHS was never good, but at least it exists. All that freedom and shit, for what?

“Sorry to hear that. Fucking shame,” Price murmurs. 

“I was wondering if any of you might be interested in marrying her. For the fuckin’... benefits. I dunno know what exactly they are, but she mentioned new living quarters for her soldier.” He really ought to have looked this up beforehand and found some other things to sweeten the pot. “I’m already married. Had to turn the poor lass down, and I told her I’d at least ask you lot.”

Their captain gets up and off his ass like the stool’s on fire. “Alright. MacTavish, I’m leaving the room now. I’m going back to my office, and do not disturb me until you’re done,” He orders, mustache practically fuckin’ bristling with urgency. “I didn’t hear or see a thing.” With his parting words finished, Johnny watches the man book it out of the pool room in double time.

While he understands and appreciates the discretion, was that truly necessary? They’ve all done exponentially worse things than this.

His first choice makes a break for it, too. “Sorry, Soap,” Garrick declines. “I’m out. I’m sure she’s a delightful person, though being friends with you doesn’t speak highly of her life choices. But that’s a big ask, and I just don’t know her.” The sergeant taps him on the shoulder as he walks out in a silent show of support.

“‘Course.” With each man who leaves, his worry increases.

What voicemails will await him after he returns from the next mission? That things went horribly wrong, and you’ll be hospitalized for the rest of your life, or maybe even dead?

Whatever it is, there won’t be anything he can do by then. That’s the worst part.

“Yeah, can’t do it either, Sarge. I got a girl already.” Right. There goes Sanderson.

At least Alejandro has the decency to look genuinely sympathetic. “Let us know if there’s anything else we can do.”

Soap watches him leave and wonders if you’re still awake. It’s not late for him, but who knows? Maybe you keep normal hours now. “Yeah, I will.” You’d prefer to hear the bad news as soon as possible, but he would hate to wake you for it.

But he can’t ignore the ghoul haunting the corner any longer. “What are you still doing here, Lt.? I’ve gotta tell her I can’t help, and I don’t think you’d care to overhear that conversation.” His voice is a little sharper than is nice and proper, overflowing with prickly irritation like too much tea in a cracked cup. Of all the times for Ghost to not mind his fucking business…

“…what she look like?”

“What?”

And Riley’s got the audacity to repeat himself, slower, as if he’s stupid. “What does she look like? Got a picture?”

“Is this a joke?” Simon should stick to shitty quips about goldfish. At least those are tasteful.

The man doesn’t laugh, shake his head, or leave now that he’s successfully rattled Soap. He just stands there, as grave as always. Motherfucker. He means it. “Fuckin’… yeah, hold on,” Soap sighs as he fumbles for his phone.

He’s desperate because you’re desperate. He tells himself that, over and over, as he looks for a half-decent selfie. You’re a big girl, you knew what you were risking when you asked him for help.

Ghost takes his phone in his gloved hand. “Not bad,” He murmurs after a while. “I’ll do it. Marry her.”

A beat passes. Soap lets another one go.

Alright. The grace period is over and done with. “This is a really shitty, serious thing to mess around about. Genuinely. Don’t do that to her or me. This is about her health. Her life.” Johnny likes Lt. Riley. Really, he does. Even under all the freaky mask shit.

But this is mean-spirited. It would almost be out of character. It’s one thing to be careless if his sparring partner walks away with permanent nerve damage. This is fucking cruel if he doesn’t mean it.

Ghost can read minds now. “I mean it.” His chuckle makes Johnny fix his surprised expression into something more stern and imperceptible. “She’s desperate, isn’t she? I’ll do it.” When he walks closer, the changing light makes that skull on his face flash in and out of existence.

“Why?” If he can’t come up with a somewhat satisfactory answer… Soap’s fist can probably reach him fine from here.

And in a rather remarkable show of humanity, he watches Ghost pinch the bridge of his nose through his mask. “Think I like listening to you snore? Or fuckin’ Roach chattering on Discord at four in the morning?” Johnny never knew Ghost was such a little princess about that. Who would’ve thought?

The other man huffs a laugh. “Need my beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, you do, the mask’s not doin’ you any favors,” Soap retorts as if on autopilot. That’s only their longest-running tiff. You’ve got your work cut out for you to deal with that ugly mug, he thinks.

“You want me to help her or what?”

Right. Right. “Sorry.” He examines Ghost’s body language, searching for any hint of dishonesty. “If you so badly want out of the shared bunks, how come you haven’t found someone else yet? Or some other way?”

“You think girls are lining up outside my door proposing marriage? You can’t even find me off duty. Now I ain’t gotta find… some other way,” He says before leaning back against the wall, at ease now that his argument’s been made.

“Fair point.” Fair, but fucking dumb. “I’ll tell her. She’ll say yes, I know she will.” Jesus, does he wish he’d been able to persuade Garrick.

Soap considers exactly how much you should know about your intended before this shit goes down. On the one hand, it might be better for you not to know much, other than that he’s found someone relatively trustworthy and willing. On the other hand… interacting with Lt. Riley is something that should only be done after signing a covenant not to sue.

“Whatever you do, don’t hurt her. She’s been through enough already. And I meant it when I said she’s a good person. Too good for either of us.”

Nobody gets through secondary school untouched. Especially not at that prissy international school you met him at, filled with over-privileged rich kids and army brats scraping the bottom of the barrel. Like the two of you.

When you were fourteen, you picked him up by the scruff of his Scottish neck with a smile on your face, then hit the bastard who hit him first. Thick as thieves ever since.

“And if you can’t find it in you to be nice, just… promise you’ll leave her alone.” At least you’re more than capable of making Ghost’s life a living Hell if he fucks with you. He takes comfort in that and a healthy amount of glee at the possibility of watching that play out. He’s got a front-row seat, after all.

Riley shakes his head. “As long as she ain’t a burden, MacTavish, no need to fuss and cluck.”

For a moment, Soap almost pities him.

“Don’t hurt her. Promise me that, right now,” He stresses. Just in case. At least eliciting this agreement might remind Ghost in the future to stay his hand.

The other man sighs. “I won’t,” He says at last. And Soap can tell he means it.

“Get out. I’ll let her know.”

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM LOVE ACTUALLY *  assorted dialogue from the 2003 film, adjust as necessary

it’s the saddest part of my day, leaving you.

if you look for it, i’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.

i could just have him murdered.

thank you, i’ll think about it.

ruthless trained killers are just a phone call away.

to me, you are perfect.

can you give me any clues at all?

well the truth is… actually… i’m in love.

i really want to know.

there’s nothing i can do about it.

i thought it would be something worse.

tell her that you love her.

okay, that sounds fine. bit boring, but fine.

that sounds so bizarre.

that is genuinely bad timing.

american girls would seriously dig me with my cute british accent.

they've done it. it's official.

this is shit, isn't it?

i was hoping you'd win.

christmas is for people with someone they love in their lives.

so... what's this big news then?

it was always going to be a total shit time.

oh, don't be disgusting. get out of my house.

look at the sign on the door.

you’ll always regret it if you don’t.

well, this is a surprise.

has it been a good visit?

we got what we came for.

you never talk to me. you don’t like me.

you can just show yourself out, can’t you?

do you think everybody knows?

tell me, if you were in my position, what would you do?

would you wait around to find out?

oh god, i am so in the wrong.

you’ve also made a fool out of me.

ask me anything you like. i’ll tell you the truth.

god, i wish you hadn’t turned that down.

shit, i can’t believe i just said that.

basically, you’re fucked, aren’t you?

this is shit, isn’t it?

where the fuck is my fucking coat?

thank you very much, but no.

actually, i was being serious.

it would be great if we could be friends.

it’s a terrible, terrible mistake.

you’re not who i think you are, are you?

who do you have to screw around here to get a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit?

i will miss you. and your very slow typing. and your very bad driving.

i’ll give you anything you ask for, as long as it’s not something i don’t want to give.

i’m very busy and important. how can i help you?

oh, shut your face.

actually, i don’t have to go.

true love lasts a lifetime.

so what’s this big news, then?

life is full of interruptions and complications.

oh no. that is so inconvenient.

i very much like the look of you.

send an embarrassingly big car and i’ll be there!

i never asked you how your love life is going.

the thing about romance is… people only get together right at the very end.

look at the sign on the door!

loitering around the jewelry section, i see!

a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

i think you’re not surprised.

oh my god, i’ve got a terrible stomach ache.

how will you be celebrating?

all i want for christmas is you.

you would have broken my heart if you’d said yes.

the nurses are trying to kill me.

are you sure you don’t mind me going without you?

i love you even when you’re sick and look disgusting.

did i mention that i love you?

i look quite pretty.

no one’s ever going to shag you if you cry all the time.

hello. i heard you were gorgeous.

i’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, hoping to be kissed.

[queen0fm0nsterz]

You think the Lady is someone powerful arrogant and cool. Well I happen to know her personally and intimately and I can tell you that she most definitely is not cool. If it wasn't for her shadow fairy floating abilities she'd trip on her carpets and fall flat on her ass because she forgets to pick up her dumbass books. Are they about shadow magic? Are they cringe self written essays? We may never know. I'm not sure the Lady herself knows because her dumbass cannot think the same cohesive thought for a long period of time. She made tea for herself in the Residence and fucking forgot about it like an idiot. Her attention span is a total of 2. 2 what? Seconds? Minutes? Years? Depends on how lucky you are. She has pictures of toilets in her rooms. Its modern art. Don't even bother asking why she has a picture of a bathroom and then a second picture zoomed in on the shitter specifically WHICH IS THE SAME FROM THE OTHER PICTURE. You wouldn't get it. Don't even get me started about the feet. If she wants to keep someone's fucking dogs on her wall then she will have their dogs on her wall. She cuddles her dolls because in her life she has never felt the loving hand of someone else because she is insufferable. ZERO MAIDENS AND ZERO GENTS. And her outfit? Girl? You are gonna pull up to the feast with a SINGLE LAYER OF YUKATA? What is this? This is like if Joe Biden or some other politician (I am not american) pulled up on national television with his pajamas still on. Instead of worrying about the fake ass face Mirror Man conjures up specifically to haunt you maybe you should STOP BUYING THE SAME YUKATA 700 FUCKING TIMES AND GET AN ACTUAL PROPER KIMONO. But girl I get it. You're autistic. I am autistic too. I get it. What I do not get is why you have an hidden stash of alchool behind a bigass painting. Why hide that and not, I don't know, THE PICTURE OF SOMONE'S GODDAMN FEET.

This is who she is. A girloser. The original weird girl. A reclusive femcel. I need her in my bed immediately

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #265 (part 3)

All righty! Here is the last part of today's letter!! Fwhoof!

...So, I gathered up all my prizes and went home. Here's the giant bag of grapes I ended up with in the end:

...I put out a message to my friends in my other social media place, telling them they are welcome to come by my house and grab up some of these grapes to bring home; I can't possibly eat all these by myself.

...Well actually, no, that's not true. I totally COULD eat all these by myself; they are that delicious, and my impulse control is quite literally that bad. But my intestines would absolutely not tolerate it; don't ask how I know. Just trust me on this - you do NOT want to eat large amounts of an acidic fruit in one sitting. It's VERY BAD FOR YOU.

Anyway, I was out for a number of hours, so I was very hungry. So I made myself a bowl of various goodies. This has the garlic bread I made, the grapes I got, some strawberries, some ordinary deli meat (roast beef, salami, chicken, and American cheese), and a little blob of camembert. With the exception of the camembert, it's mostly just ordinary stuff; it's not nearly as fancy as it looks, hahaha!

...It was as delicious as it was fancy-looking, though!

I also made some tea to go with it; that vanilla-rose tea that I sent along to you, with the help of those important people. I'm hoping that they got it to you, like they said they would:

...A very curious Hoshi watched on as I put these things together:

...He's such a delightfully adorable and wonderful ball of floof and purrs!!! Oh my goodness...!!

...Anyway. Want some...?

...You don't know what I would give to be able to hand you something like this. Sephiroth... you seriously have no idea. You don't.

...

Well. I said in yesterday's letter that I'd take pictures of the book I got. These come from a book called Brother Sun, by Dennis Stock. Here is the page for today:

...Or rather... here is where I would put the page for today, if it was allowed. I can't afford to get sued for copyright infringement. Sigh...

...If you were here, I could give you the picture. You could even experience the "1970s Book Smell". It's... it's a VERY specific scent. I don't know how to describe it. But all the books from 1970 carry it. It's... not exactly a good smell? It's not a bad smell, either. But it's still one worth knowing, I think. It's like dusty paper. But it's a different kind of smell than books older than this. And it's a different kind of smell for newer books, too. I wish I could show it to you. Alas.

...I wonder if paper is made the same in my world as it is in yours... hmm...

Hey, Sephiroth? You know what? In just 100 days, I'll have written to you for a full 365 days. That's pretty cool, right? Though this year is a little different since we had that leap year; it'll be 366 days this year before we come full circle. We've come a long way, haven't we...?

...Well. That's all I've got to show you for today, I think. Thanks for reading. Thanks for coming along on this adventure with me. Thanks just for existing, just for being around, for being yourself.

...My kitchen still smells like garlic, even though it's going on 12:30am. It's a wonderful thing. Sephiroth... I hope someday you'll have a kitchen that smells like garlic. Like garlic, and cheese, and fresh bread, and fragrant grapes, and roasted meats and vegetables. May it be the case someday. May it be the case that some of my recipes can get you started on your own culinary adventures. Work on it, okay...? Work on getting to a safe place so that you can have all this, too. Please.

I love you so much. Please keep staying safe out there, okay? I'll write to you again tomorrow...

Your friend, Lumine

[novemberdevils]

they are also putting a lot of trust in all the social media people who totally have access to their instagram accounts to not just open their messages. oopsies let's pretend i didn't just open that plothole until i decide if i want to actually do something with it have someone hack one of their accounts and post all of the messages and me and you can sit and drink tea and coffee and watch everyone losing it, THEY'LL TALK ABOUT IT EVENTUALLY! WHEN!!! I fear Ferrari winning irl is more achievable than them sitting down and talking, Things. i'm doing Things. don't worry about it mum pick me up im scared, but it did remind me i should include the drivers' dinner speaking of including things will you include the gala? I was watching it today and kept thinking about the embarrassing stuff they both could do, also btw you talking about word count made me curious about who has the most word counts in nicojack fics and surprise surprise it’s you 🥳; and just shy of having the first spot in any fic that has jack as a character-10,889 exactly-; and the most words ever in Hockey RPF is 480,949 so do it for the shits and giggles, but i do think jack's character here in this fic is more of a home is people person than a home is a place person. This is the worst and best type because if you don’t find those people you will always feel like you are walking on the wrong leg, TELL ME ABOUT IT I think I mentioned I live alone and the closest person to me is my brother and his wife and even then they are like 5 hours away on a train and the rest of my family are scattered across the globe so there those days where I just regret living so far away, like fun fact you'll see it in ch4 but i wrote this thing where it was clear that Someone was lying to jack about something bc only one of the things he was being told could possibly be true, but i didn't actually decide which of them was lying and Why they were lying until like midway through writing monaco lmao it is just like that sometimes. Yeah I had a whole breakdown about it and thinking back I may have overreacted a bit oops but HOW CAN YOU TEASE THAT THERE IS A REASON TELL ME NOWWWWWWW, it's late and i'm exhausted and i'm rambling forgive me but i will keep going soz please ramble I love rambling I love talking-im actually the shyest person if I wasn’t around people I feel comfortable-, jack having a praise kink fork found in the kitchen, he will wilt without it I just had the most absurd image of jack being a plant and nico going to him be like you are doing great growing those flowers and im crying laughing rn, zak brown hires twinks and i will keep saying that. He fucking does every time im like he can’t find another twink he goes and find one, PLEASE THE LOGAN HELMUT HATE FUCKING PISSED ME OFF; like if we can let other drivers have their fucking flags and have some controversial designs we can absolutely be ok with a helmet having an American flag, no because going to be honest I usually hate the patriotic Americans because they have always rubbed me the wrong way but I remember texting my f1 friends be like fuck yeah let’s go America I love him and have adopted him, as a non American like his accent can’t be that present still??? I wish it was me because my accent is a mess even in writing I will mix minimum seven different ways pf spelling stuff, one of the only things in my sketchy ass outline is that jack crashes in miami. i was planning that All Along. for the narratives. hehe I hate you.

hello anon i hope you're feeling better!! I AM!!! Thank you for asking and oops sorry for the late answer, OMG CONGRATS ON FINISHING YOUR FINALS🥳🥳 I have always hated that period of finals that im always thankful it’s in the past now-not really I have stupidly decided that I actually want to have a diploma in another major when I have graduated not that long ago-, he's allowed to contradict himself. as he said himself, nothing that he said was untrue! Humans contradict themselves every day and his actually make sense so it was a good thing you left it; it made him feel more human rather than a written character, the quinn-jack relationship is a wee bit complicated i guess? Oh yeah I have Thoughts especially during that phone call they made me miss my own siblings and called them was like hi your youngest sibling miss you and every single one without a fail asked me if I need money-I work and have a stable income- but I mean they asked what was I going to say noo older siblings I don’t need money? I said yeah the joys of being the youngest, Jack Can You Please Have Some Self-Confidence train how does a person get on this train? Because I need three tickets for me and bestie lex and boyfriend nico, STOP TEASING MONACO!! You’re the most Evil person and I hate you for teasing stuff, have i already posted the scene where jack essentially says the same thing? about how they all have to be insane to drive race cars? Yeah I do remember that scene but I tgink it actually happened twice? One where he was telling quinn that of they weren’t insane no one would drive the cars and the other unfortunately I have no idea when it happened but I think it was when jack threw the condom or when he was getting choked but don’t quote me on that, PLEASE MIAMI IS ALWAYS A MESS and it was 23 when max was 9 and kmag of everyone was third or fourth, honestly indy drivers go to the media and tell that they want to puck a driver every other race; but it was hilarious seeing everyone kinda lose it like get it boys I love for the drama, the fuck you scene-Yes I will be calling it that- is genuinely something I reread at least once every other day it’s SO SO well written like no words are enough to make you understand how much I love that scene-English is failing me as it does every time I want to complement someone making me look like a stupid person who doesn’t know shit I hate this-, honestly I know I nag about this but the not talking adds a more layer to all of their mess and I like it, omg could you even imagine nico sitting jack down and being like hey you can say a safe word jack would get up and fucking crash them both next race and then telling the media this is me telling everyone that I HATE hischier.

Okay I love you now once again my anger has lessened but stop teasing Monaco and make them get together and every important conversation happens in a hallway and I will never hate you.

i'm gonna do a red white and royal blue on them and leak all of their emails. jk. i have no concrete plans about that plothole even now so we're just going to keep not touching it

uhhh my answer remains to be Eventually. and i have no recollection of precisely what the "things" i was doing when i wrote that answer were but i am still doing Things i know that much! maybe they are the same Things. who knows, it's only the inside of my own head. i have not yet decided about the gala... i know in basics how i want the fic to end but not exactly When. i mean i have some time to figure it out before i get there lmao but the gala is something i will add to my thoughts rotation. my beautiful stupid idiot word count omg this fic is infinite but it's okay i love it so i can forgive the nonsense. if the chapter count ever changes before it's done will you all pretend it didn't pretty please

yeah that vagueing was absolutely about the "did luke actually tell nico he wanted to apologize to jack or not" thing. the answer to who was lying is in a monaco scene i've already written... it hit me like a brick when i started writing monaco like OH yeah that should be why it happens like that. when i made it apparent that Someone was lying i had no idea who it was going to be. but i figured it out! the plot thickens. and thickens and thickens and thickens and thickens

mclaren twink party. shoutout uh. lundgaard. i could talk about logan sargeant probably forever?? he was my guy. with all one of his formula 1 points. logan i miss you </3 i still want him in an indycar seat one of these days but who knows what he will do with his life i will just be over here. with all the sargeant-branded merch i already own. and arguably the 3 american races have more outline than any of the other races oops! that and like. the last few. the end of the fic has always been clearer to me than any of the middle, and we are going to be in my un-outlined middle for a while. no plans all vibes. best way to write a fanfiction trust me i would know

thank you thank you finals week finals weeked and then i was working and doing a bunch of nothing now i'm like. sitting in my bed at home. it's a great time. university is Great i'm going to be here 5ever because i changed my major this past semester... and it was my third year in the major i was already doing... so like. Yeah. the creative writing to aviation major pipeline doesn't exist i created it

that's enough about me! thank you for the thoughts on jack's many ways of contradicting himself, sometimes i feel weird about it i think because characters Are often written to be more perfect than actual humans? idk it feels like something people could read and be like "this doesn't make any sense he said x before and now he's saying y?" but like Yeah people do that all the time. i do that. so i'm glad i left it like that, and i'm sure jack will contradict himself again at some point before the fic is done lol. he's a very complicated guy to write

i'm the younger sibling out of two so most of what i write in sibling relationships is at least a little bit projecting - i don't have a younger sibling though, so i arguably project more onto the quinn-jack side of things, which is maybe why it is the way that it is. not that my older sister is a retired NASCAR driver or anything. but yknow. vibes and all that. i will never stop teasing monaco muahahaha i have not enough plans about when ch5 is gonna end soooo things are happening that is all i know for certain

race car driver insanity is real and in all honesty it will Likely come up again at some point. in all of the fic i have left to write. who knows. shoutout to jack throwing a condom on the floor idk what led me to writing that scene like that but i have officially opened That rabbit hole and now i get the pleasure of dealing with it for the rest of the fic. fucking. crazy person. jesus christ. and i knew it was 23 because i was like. max won that race and iirc lando won this past season? miami doing miami things. that race happened while i was working in disney so i did not watch it but i remember talking to a guy on race day while i was at work who was wearing a mclaren shirt so i was like. i am sure you are having a good day (on working in disney, a lot of f1 merch out and about, and it was mostly checo. so i'm sure they're all having great times Now)

yay i'm glad you like the fuck you scene (good name) i was getting self-concious about it at the end like did i make him say 'fuck you' too many times LMAO but it was in the cards. jack is just Like That. and the Not Talking layer is a very important one... they will communicate eventually i Promise all will be revealed (or at least most) at some point but right now they are still going to be stupid. i'm gonna. i have plans. Trust. yeah if nico asked jack about a safe word i think he would leave. like. the reality that they're doing anything safe word-worthy with each other would probably kill him

hallways are a very important space to them for some reason. i could probably make something out of that even if it was originally intended as like. idk convenience? i purposely didn't have them in a bed until miami because of the way it feels more like a commitment than just getting pinned to the wall so it kind of always ended up being the door or the wall next to the door or something. dw we unlock a new space in monaco. you can probably guess what it is based on Context Clues

[luesmainblog]

I've found a lot of use with Daikon Radish - if you cut it up, boil it for a bit, and then drain the water, it'll no longer be super bitter and lose its spice. it doesn't need to be fully soft to reach this point! now you can add it for texture, or boil it in new water with spices to add some flavor. most roots can be used in the same way(carrot, parsnip, potato, radish, etc), and the first boil and drain will help remove some of the flavor if it's too strong for you. Eggplant can be used similarly - and if it's an american eggplant, you don't need to do the first boiling. it's safe from the word go! this one is much softer and a bit spongey, and fried slices are emaculate. Cucumber, Zuccini, and Summer/Yellow Squash make a nice light snack, or they can be added to salads as a topping. also, anything you can top a salad with, you can top Ramen or Rice with. if you don't like pickles, you might still like cucumber. if you don't like cucumbers, you might still like pickles. other than flavor and texture, i do not know why this is.

some vegetables can be used like a condiment. Relish, Onion Jam, Saurkraut, and Kimchi are all examples of this. There's also a very good recipe for Carrot Bacon that will give you the same effect as very crunchy bacon bits. a surprising amount of vegetables are good if you coat them in cheese sauce! broccoli's somewhat famous for this. Pureed veggetable makes an excellent thickener for soups and sauces!! you can get little bags of un-sauced Cole Sklaw and/or Broccoli Slaw that's just a bunch of raw veggies sliced like really thin fries. stinks a bit when boiled, but makes a good quick addition to salads, soups, or just a grab snack. no cutting required on your part! vegan food that acts like other foods can be a godsend. don't expect them to be EXACTLY like what they're immitating; try it to see if you like it as itself. i have been surprised so many times by these little processed bastards. you know they make popcorn chicken out of cauliflower??? it's not exactly the same but it's fuckin good!!

If you don't like how herbs flake onto the rest of your food, you can get Fillable Tea Bags. put the herbs and spices in there, tie it good and tight, and steep it in there with the other stuff. once you've got as much flavor as you want, remove the bag! break it down by nutrient; you can find lists of "foods that have a lot of calcium" or "top 10 iron bombs" if you go looking. find a few things you can stomach on each list. this one i learned out of stubbornness: if it's not making you COMPLETELY reel back/causing pain/absolutely disgusting, and especially if you're not totally sure you hate it? like, you CAN, you just don't like to? keep eating it. like, all the time. while telling yourself that you like it. i have gaslit myself into genuinely liking so many foods, it is wild. this is how i went from not being able to stand tomatoes, to eating them like apples. i just decided i wanted to do that and made myself keep eating them. it sucked at first, but now i genuinely like them.

i mean this in the gentlest way possible: you need to eat vegetables. you need to become comfortable with doing so. i do not care if you are a picky eater because of autism (hi, i used to be this person!), you need to find at least some vegetables you can eat. find a different way to prepare them. chances are you would like a vegetable you hate if you prepared it in a stew or roasted it with seasoning or included it as an ingredient in a recipe. just. please start eating better. potatoes and corn are not sufficient vegetables for a healthy diet.

[unhingedwomandiaries]

Right, so today I found myself singing "Hey Jude" in a bathroom stall to some random woman on the phone, which sounds like the start of either a very bad joke or a very good crime novel. But no – it was a fucking job interview. Because apparently that's what passes for normal these days in the world of military intelligence. Though calling it "intelligence" is a bit rich, considering what happened next.

Started off outside because God forbid we do anything normal. The HR woman – let's call her Agent Twat – started whinging about hearing wind through her microphone. Like she'd never experienced weather before. Proper sensitive equipment they've got there. Real James Bond stuff. Can hear a slight breeze but probably miss an actual explosion.

So there I am, scuttling inside like some sort of corporate cockroach, faced with two choices: the canteen full of judgmental arseholes pretending not to eavesdrop, or the bogs. Went for the bogs because at least the toilet won't pretend it's not judging me.

Then the questions started. Christ on a bike. "What do you think of garden gnomes?" she asks, like it's a normal fucking thing to discuss while I'm sat in a bathroom stall. What's the right answer there? "Sorry love, can't talk about gnomes – they're all undercover agents"? Made some bollocks up about personal freedom and managed to compare garden gnomes to Nazis, because apparently, my brain's default setting is "make everything worse."

Next up: "Are you Coke, Diet, Zero Sugar, or Caffeine free?" Fucking hell. Is this a job interview or a BuzzFeed quiz? "What Kind of Spy Are You Based on Your Beverage Choices?" Said Zero Sugar because I figured spies need to watch their figure when they're hanging off buildings and shit. Though judging by the intelligence of these questions, the most dangerous thing I'd be doing is making the tea.

Speaking of which – they asked about tea-making. Me, an American, explaining to a Brit how to make tea. Might as well have just taken a shit on the Union Jack. Probably got myself blacklisted from MI6 for admitting I put the honey in first. Proper terrorist behavior, that.

But the absolute cherry on top of this shit sundae was the singing challenge. "Someone puts a gun to your head and says they won't shoot if you can sing a song perfectly." Because that's a totally normal scenario that happens all the time in office jobs. Nothing says "professional workplace" quite like hypothetical musical hostage situations.

So there I am, belting out "Hey Jude" in a public toilet like some sort of deranged Beatles tribute act, when some poor bastard walks in. Proper deer in the headlights moment. Agent Twat tells me to keep going, because apparently, the ability to continue singing while dying of embarrassment is a crucial skill in military intelligence.

After all that bollocks, they have the nerve to get arsey with me about some previous interview feedback I supposedly never got. Like I'm sat there making up lies about job rejections for fun. Because that's what normal people do, isn't it? Keep a diary of all the times they've been told to fuck off by potential employers?

Then the real kicker comes in the afternoon – a rejection wrapped up in the world's most mental job offer. They want me to renounce my US citizenship. Proper "choose your nationality" bullshit, like it's an episode of "Who Wants to Be a Fucking Spy?" They'd need to interview everyone I've ever met, probably dig up my dead parents for a chat, and have some foreign spooks give me the once-over. All for a job I might not even get.

Cost hundreds of thousands apparently, this vetting lark. Could probably buy my own small intelligence agency for that. Set up shop in the garden shed, recruit the gnomes. They've already got the standing around looking suspicious bit sorted.

So that's it. That's what looking for a job is like in 2025. Singing in toilets, discussing garden ornaments, and being asked to give up your nationality. Makes you wonder if the real intelligence test was seeing how long you'd put up with this shit before telling them to fuck right off.

Think I'll stick to my current job. Might be boring as fuck, but at least no one's asked me to sing Beatles songs in the bathroom. Yet.

[wool-and-wanderlust]

July 30: Woke up today to the news that someone smashed the wing mirror on my rental car overnight. It was parked on the road, and someone hit it...didn't leave a note, so now I'm left to pay for the damage. Some people...

Was going to run some errands today, but can't really do that without the drivers side mirror, so I went shopping with Cathy instead. Was hoping to get a dress and/or shoes for Brian's daughter's wedding next weekend, but just ended up with a cardigan. Thought I might start on the new farm tomorrow, but it turns out the timing isn't great for that farmer, so I've got the day off tomorrow...time to try to get my car fixed.

July 31: Called the car rental place today to tell them I needed to report some damage, and the first thing the guy said was "Right — what have you done?" I'm sure he assumed the young-ish American woman who can't drive a standard would damage the car, but SHOCKINGLY it wasn't me. 🙄 Anyway, they told me I could just pop the mirror back in place since it's shattered but still in the frame, and I can drive it like that until I return the car. So I decided to go on another shoe shopping hunt. Went to a nearby town and finally had success. Then went grocery shopping and made tea. Seems like the new farm this week isn't working out quite yet, so I'm back to the original farm tomorrow. I guess I shouldn't have said such a dramatic goodbye already!

August 1: The fields at Brian's and Tom's farm needed rolling, so that's what I focused on today. They needed to roll the fields to press any stones back into the ground so that the stones don't damage the machine that bales the silage. So I had a quick refresher on how to drive the tractor, and then went for it! The perfectionist in me was annoyed because it took me a very long time to get the lines straight without any gaps between them, but I eventually got there. I was listening to the radio while driving, and when a certain song came on the radio I had to make this video. Then in the afternoon, we did some sheep work. I got to drive the quad bike around the field gathering the sheep which is one of my favorite things, and then we sprayed them with Dysect (which treats blowfly strike and prevents lice and ticks). It was nice being back on the farm...

August 2: Back on the original farm again today for more field rolling. I really shouldn't have said goodbye yet 😅 I got promoted to doing 2 fields instead of one today, so had my work cut out for me. I felt more confident in the tractor which meant I could drive a bit faster, so I was able to cover a lot more ground. My only bad moment was when I had to drive the tractor around a tree, and I thought the branches would just flexibly go *whoosh* around the tractor, but they hit it with more of a *thunk*. 😳 One of the big side mirrors got pushed in, so I tried to get out of the tractor to reposition it, but it had actually been pushed in so far that it trapped me inside the tractor. I was totally stuck and had to decide whether to call for help or climb out the back window of the tractor. I climbed out the back, fixed the mirror, and got back in! I also noticed the mirror on the other side needed adjusting, so I went to fix that one but realized the metal arm holding the mirror was actually broken😩 Wasn't sure if I'd done it or not, but figured I should probably let someone know. Had such a pit in my stomach about telling them! Thankfully, they told me it was already like that...phew. After lunch, I helped put up a small marquee for this weekend's wedding. We went inside for a drink in the afternoon, and when we came back outside less than an hour later, it had blown down and broken :( So they will have to hire a new one for the wedding. Such a sad moment! Should be leaving the farm for real now, as tomorrow I really do start at the new farm...Here's a video I made of my last few weeks with the Longmynd Commoners.

[pridepages]

eARC Review: In the Case of Heartbreak

A HUGE thank you to Netgalley and Kensington Books for providing me an eARC in exchange for an honest review!

RATING: ⭐⭐⭐

GOODREADS SYNOPSIS:  Ben has been baking his grandma’s cinnamon rolls at the family café for years. He’s been quietly in love with Adam Reed, his musician-slash-mechanic neighbor, for just as long. But Ben’s done waiting behind the pastry case. He’s entered a make-or-break competition to show off his own recipes. He’s going to buy his overprotective family out of the business. And he’s going to ask Adam out. TONIGHT. Except his big plans get punched down before they even half-rise. Soon Ben is dashing down the coast to his grandma’s 80th birthday party on the beach, hiding his broken heart in Maywell Bay, California. Sun, sea, and fresh breezes should blow in something new—except they don’t. They blow in Adam Reed, grinning like a pirate and stealing the show as the musical entertainment hired by Grandma for her big bash. Grandma’s signature Heartbreak Tea is the only remedy, and Grandma’s tea could take the paint off a fence. But there’s a burn of truth along with the booze in his bottle, and Ben has a decision to make. Can he take the sweetness in front of him, and brave the bitterness that comes after? Or is a little sea salt just what this cinnamon roll needs?

RELEASE DATE: 7/25/23

See my full review under the cut!

Sun, sand, summer romance...and cinnamon rolls? Maybe not the most intuitive combination, but it’s a winning one for Courtney Kae’s second Fern Falls installment: In the Case of Heartbreak.

Followers may recall that I was less than enthusiastic about the Fern Falls premiere In the Event of Love. The problems I had were that the novel felt slickly self-aware without compensating by being particularly clever, predictability of plot, and characters that made disappointing choices. The standouts of book one for me were in fact supporting characters Ben and Adam. So when I learned that a sequel starring them was on the way, I hit the request button at lightspeed in hopes that Kae would impress me on a second round.

Let me make this clear: this is a romance novel. Fern Falls isn’t going to provide us the next Great American Novel. And that’s totally fine! And I have to give credit where it’s due: Kae’s storytelling definitely matured. 

First of all, the plot felt less formulaic. In book one, there was a simple set of stakes: save the Reed Family Tree Farm and get the girls together. In book two, Ben faces a more complex set of competing interwoven and escalating stakes that are both practical and emotional. All of his conflicts have direct bearing upon his emotional arcs and his relationships with other people. Even better, the resolutions also tie into his emotional growth, so all the arcs neatly weave together even if the ‘hows’ weren’t visible a hundred miles away this time.

Secondly, the backdrop may be sunny, but the themes have darkened: childhood trauma casts a long shadow over both of our heroes. Their journey becomes one of self-awareness and growth, learning how to come together in spite of the emotional baggage that hinders them. I give more credit to the development of this romance than I did the one in book one. It feels like there is a logic both to what initially keeps Ben and Adam apart, and how they eventually find their way to each other.

I only have a couple of concerns, but they do have big impact. 

One: Ben and Adam lack distinct voices. Strangely, I felt like they had more individuality and life in book one. I’m not sure what it is about putting them in the spotlight, but sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart when they speak. Having distinct voices is what makes characters live in our imaginations and our memories, so this is a massive drawback. 

Two: Kae has a tendency to rely a lot upon allusions to pop culture. While a couple here and there are okay, the problem is here there are many and if for some reason the reader doesn’t catch the reference meaning is going to be lost. Nods like that should be used like sea salt: sparingly and for a hint of spice!

Three: sometimes Kae’s prose feels...clinical. By which I mean that in an effort to show how aware her characters are of things like social justice and the benefits of therapy, they stop talking or thinking like real people and it can swerve into forced, preachy territory. (For example: Ben at one point spontaneously ruminates on how lucky he is to have access to therapy for his depression. I agree with that sentiment, but I don’t know a single person outside of having a conversation specifically about healthcare injustice who would break their inner monologue to comment on that. It felt like a PSA more than a real person thinking.)

Still, I found anxious, childhood-traumatized Ben relatable. Maybe that colored my enjoyment of this book, pushing me more in its favor, but there were some incredibly moving passages about the nature of feeling broken and having difficulty learning how to love. And I have to hand it to Kae, the crux of this novel is as sweet and rich as one of Ben’s cinnamon rolls: love can nourish us, but first we have to learn how to let it in.

[kelasparmak]

not to be a bitch but do you ever just see a post that’s like

‘i’m going to correct some misconceptions about [x]! i’m not here to shame anyone for getting it wrong, just please learn in future :-)’

and then all the information is just stuff that's the op’s personal experience, or the experience of someone they know because they’re not even [x] themself, and is absolutely not universal and sometimes straight up wrong.

[somethingsupwithdrac]

24th May Huzzah! A message! From our dear Lucy! You know what that means, Tumblr Book Club friends? IT’S TIME TO MEET THE LUCY WESTENRA BOYFRIEND CLUB YESSS

Today we have an opening from Lucy thanking Mina for her letter and spilling the tea about her THREE suitors!

LOL “Don’t tell the girls, you know they’ll be babies about it because I have a whole squad of eligible men begging for my hand in marriage and they don’t. Vanity, amirite?”

Again with the secrets, Lucy. “Don’t  tell anybody but Jon, because I know you’re going to, I would totally spill the beans to Arthur if our positions were reversed, but I have a BOYFRIEND CLUB and I need to tell you ALL ABOUT THEM”

First we have Jack Seward, Asylum Guy and OG podcaster, who is is strong of jaw and good of forehead. So much for that “oh he’d be perfect for you if not for that pesky fiance, lol" thing. I know that “cool" here refers to being calm and in control of oneself, but it’s much funnier if I take that to mean “OMG, Mina, this man is the biggest most awkward dork of a man, he almost sat on his hat and then sat there fiddling with a lancet like a weirdo until I wanted to scream, lmao"

Awkward boyfriend pitch time! “I love u and I swear I will make you so happy, I will be so sad if u do not love me back dear Lucy.” (I make fun of this because to modern eyes it’s a wee bit niceguy, but I know that it’s meant to be sincere, and it’s all honestly kind of sad.) And then poor conflicted Lucy having to reject him and the very noble “I want you to be happy and if all I can have is your friendship, I will be the best friend I can” speech, which, honestly? Sweet as hell, you get a point, Mr. Seward. (Which is perhaps the only point I am willing to award you for anything in this novel.)

This whole thing with Lucy having a good cry over having to hurt him by rejecting him is actually pretty sad and I just want the Lucy Westenra Boyfriend Club to pull itself together already. Later, though.

And  now, introducing suitor number two, MISTER QUINCEY P. MORRIS, AMERICAN COWBOY FROM TEXAS. He absolutely definitely speaks like a real authentic Texan and Bram Stoker absolutely definitely had spoken to Americans before writing this man’s character. (I snark, but only because I love Quincey as a character.) Quincey is an absolute gem of a man who knows how to sweet talk a girl and is 100% the guy this was made for:

He is young and fresh faced and charming, and ALSO knows how to take rejection gracefully, which puts him miles above at least 75% of modern dude characters. Lucy is like, “alas, my totally hot and very eligible American suitor, as I told Mr. Seward, I am in love with Arthur already” with genuine regret, and poor sweet Quincey is just

‘I understand little darlin’, I love you and want the best for you and we can still be friends, because friendship is valuable too.’ You also get a point, Mr. Morris. YEEHAW.

And then he joins Lucy’s Boyfriend Club with Arthur and Jack because Lucy Westenra (I keep typing Lucky, lol) is a damn smart woman and she is going to have all the boyfriends she wants.

Last, of course, is Arthur, who is...Arthur. Curly of hair and kind of heart, already engaged, betrothed, and affianced to our dear Lucy. Does this make him president of the Boyfriend Club? IDK, maybe?

“Why can’t they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble?”

YOU DON’T NEED MARRIAGE, GIRL, YOU JUST GO FORM THAT POLYCULE AND GET ALL OF THOSE VERY HANDSOME AND ELIGIBLE MEN.

(Sidenote: I love ‘I know what I would do...no I don’t’ and ‘A man always finds a girl alone...no he doesn’t’. It’s such stream of consciousness writing and I love that about Lucy.)

I cannot WAIT to see our friend Mina’s response to this. I know I am absolutely bursting to hear more about the Boyfriend Club.

(Sidenote number two: JFC, talk about mood whiplash. We go from Jonathan being in several flavours of mortal peril with a definite end date for his life to Mina and Lucy having a grand time talking about Boyfriend Club. It’s jarring, and it’s meant to be, and also, I think, necessary for keeping the tension up.)

[wizkiddx]

Not sure if you are taking request at all but if you do, do you mind writing something about Harry agreeing to be the birth photographer at the birth of his niece (tom and reader’s daughter) 🥺🤍

this was so interesting!! personally I am way too self conscious to have a photographer when I *eventually* have a kid aha, but I hope this is what u were looking for x x p.s. coming at my brand w the white hearts :)

tomholland x reader

summary: harry gets terrified by toms request about the birth of his child, but the reader smoothes it over

Having just had a round of golf with Harry, Tom invited him back to yours for a cuppa and a catch up too. After all the years of living and travelling with Harry by his side, Harry in particular was massively important to TOm. Especially since he’d moved in with you, Tom constantly made a super special effort to spend as much time with him as possible. Harry had a key and had no quam with letting himself in uninvited. Though since he had walked in at *the wrong time* a bit too frequently, and then the announcement of your pregnancy - he had cut down the unexpected visits.

“So, I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“This does not sound good” Harry furrowed his eyebrows together, looking suspiciously at his brother as he poured the kettle into the two matching ‘Brothers Trust’ mugs.

“Since when? I only ever ask you to do good things?”

“We both absolutely know that is not true.” Harry deadpanned, pointing to the palm of his right hand which carried a large scar. Scar in question had been sustained during one of Tom’s incredibly ‘good’ aka stupid ideas.

“Right fair… I’ll allow that.” He receeded, placing the two mugs onto the counter in front of Harry. All it took was one look at the pale brown colour for Harry to turn his nose up, shooting Tom a look as though he’d just murdered a puppy. The elder of the two sighed, knowing exactly what his brothers snobbiness was about.

“Seriously?”

“It’s not your fault your awful at this, some people just aren’t born with it.” With a sarky pat on the back Harry rounded the counter, pouring the freshly brewed but slightly too milky tea down the drain - before flicking the kettle on to make his own brew… properly this time.

Tom knew his brother well enough to know not to argue or protest, instead perching on the counter as he watched Harry work his ‘magic’.

“But seriously me and Y/n have been talking about the birth cos you know, it’s not too far away now.” This was true, you were now only 3 weeks from your due date - but going by the size of you, you were ready to pop. Quite literally, you didn't know how much longer you could last.

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t mate.”

“Well yeh and I basically um …  had the idea to get a photographer for the birth right? It’s quite an American thing but I don’t want to forget anything and I’m sure it’s gonna be magical.” In response, Harry slowly turned around, empty mug in hand and eyes fierce.

“Are you fucking stupid?!”

To be fair to Harry, that had pretty much been your reaction when Tom first suggested it - word for word. He’d got the idea from one of the crew he’d filmed his most recent projects with, the guy had been raving about how beautiful it was and once he’d shown the pictures to Tom - he had to agree. Eventually Tom had worn you down to it and actually the idea of being able to save the moment you met your kid for the first time didn’t sound too bad. You had firmly set the boundaries of no photos of your ‘labour face’ and absolutely nothing from the ‘other end of the bed.’

The worry for both of you, as it always was given Tom’s reputation, was privacy. Especially the birth of your child, having a stranger there had you straight refusing, even a friend seemed still a little invasive. It was only when Tom had remembered he had a brother (who you were also incredibly close to) who was handy with a camera. Even if he had no experience with this particular type of photography, Harry was a pretty safe pair of hands for a camera in any situation. God knows he’s had enough practice at it.

“No hear me out, Y/n agreed too-“

“Of course this was your idea! So she’s totally fine with me staring at her fanny through a camera lens?”

“Harry” That was a warning tone, which the frizzy haired boy chose to completely ignore.

“No I-I mean, you want me to stare at your finances bits? Isn’t that some sort of weird incsest?”

“Shut the fuck up about Y/n’s body. You OBVIOUSLY wouldn’t be taking photos of that end, more like when the baby gets handed to us you know?”

“When its covered in gunk that came out of Y/n?”

“I’m pretty sure they clean it-“

“Not properly!”

Thankfully perhaps, the conversation was interrupted by the kettle clicking off, the water coming to a boil. With a huff Harry turned round, pouring and then stirring the tea as Tom watched his back from a distance. Neither spoke till after Harry finished, returning the milk to the fridge and then leaning against the counter top.

“Look I get it if you dont want to but your the only one Y/n trusts to do it and it means a lot to me.”

“Y/n wants me to stare at her fanny?!”

“No calm down you div. But you are the only one she trusts to be in the room when our first child is born. Will you just think about it?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, probably protest, but before he could the front door opened and you called through the house.

“Tom? I’m home!” And becasue the boy was whipped he instantly trotted to the front door giving you a peck on your lips. He murmured to you that Harry was there, his lips moving against yours and you nodded with a small smile. You knew, instantly, that Tom in all his idiocy hadn’t handled it well.

“Would you mind getting all the shopping from car? Pregnant and all, so I’m not allowed to lift a finger.” You cocked your head, laughing as he rolled his eyes with a nod.

“I’m excited for when you can't play that card.”

“But then I’ll be the women who pushed a baby out for you… the mother of your child.”  Winking, you then quickly moved through the house before he could protest, just knowing he was pulling a pouty face as he watched you sway away.

Once in the kitchen you saw Harry nursing his mug like it was the last drink on earth, hunched over it from where he was sitting on a stool on the breakfast bar.

“ You lose at golf?” Opening the conversation, Harry instantly shot his head up, looking slightly terrified to see you.

“Wha- no, no I didn’t actually.”

“Tom asked you huh?” He nodded, seemingly not wanting to commit with words. “I had exactly the same face when he first told me. It’s weird right?”

“Yeh no shit.”

“He’s really keen on it though, I mean he’s like an excited puppy about the whole birth.”

“But you want it too?”

“Sort of. What I do want is for him to be happy though. And I’m fairly certain he’s gonna be terrified throughout the whole birth while I won’t be in a position to help himl.”

“You’ll probably have other stuff on your mind to be fair.” You laughed, at that, nodding in agreement with him.

“Just a little. I did think though, who is a person who I can trust to look after him too during that... and even I draw a line at your dad… Look if you don't want to, I totally get it and I can’t promise that I won’t be screaming at you during if you do. But it would comfort me to know you were there, with or without the bloody camera.”

“Seriously?” Rather than exclaiming it, Harry whispered in shock, not expecting this sort of a revelation.

“Course H! You're my little brother too.”

“I might pass out.”

“So will your brother, at least he won’t be on his own then.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Thnakyouthankyouthankyou!” You squealed, running over to hug him from the back, arms round his shoulders as he squirmed on the stool.

It was at this point Tom walked back in after unloading the ridiculous amount of baby clothes shopping you had done. Big strong Tom had to take 2 trips up and down the stairs to the nursery. Of course, all it took was a few words from you and Harry was falling at your feat. He was hardly surprised. Annoyingly you seemed to have this power over all the Hollands. They never stood a chance.

It wasn’t till later than evening, long since Harry had left and the dishwasher had been put on after Tom had made a mess cooking you dinner. Only then did your phone ping with a text message from Sam.

Sam H

‘I dont know what you’ve done to Harry but I’m scared, he’s binge watching one born every minute.’

Immediately you cracked up, knowing that it was his nervous energy and need to ‘be prepared’. Tom, who was lying behind you on the sofa whilst his hands caressing your stomach, jerked his head up intrigued as the what the ‘ding’ was. You showed him and he snorted in laughter too, whilst nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“How did you bring him round by the way?”

“Oh you know, I’ve got all of you wrapped round my little finger when I want.”

“That you do… do you think I should be worried?”

“Nah your just all softies.” Laughing softly, you pulled his arms tighter around you, wiggling back into him a bit more.”

“You didn’t tell him about the godparent thing though?”

“Course not… we can give him a separate heart attack about that.”

[superhero--imagines]

Part 12

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here!

* You stare at the blank ceiling, the smooth unblemished surface like freshly fallen snow

* you should really put some nudie posters up there or something to lighten the mood a little. 

* Light notes from the piano float around your room

* You sigh, so these are the facts as you know them:

* Edward is your best friend who has occasional bouts of brooding and flirtatious behavior.

* Bella is not albino, she has a lovely peach undertone, and a lovely grilled peach scent

* The entire coven has treated your attraction to this young lady’s blood like you got caught masturbating or wetting the bed or something

* “You don’t need to be embarrassed it’s a perfectly natural feeling.” Esme tells you while rubbing your shoulders

* “We’ve all been there” Rosalie reassures

* “Totally not a big deal, it happens to me everyday!” Jasper chimes in

* You wish sunlight hurt you so you could combust into flames on the spot

* The piano notes get louder, and you feel your mouth pinch into a frown.

* “Oh my god Edward! Read the room, I want brooding music!”

* Edward stops, up until then he had been playing a pretty cheerful Mozart piece

* You can tell he wants to ask why, you’ve been radiating joy non-stop since biology. But he decides against it

* “You really shouldn’t eat lying down.” He says as you sip blood while lying flat on your bed.

* “Okay dad.” You snort

* Edward starts to imagine what it would be like if you called him ‘daddy’

* All needy on top of him, your hands curled in fists against his chest, the breathy “daddy please” that leaves your mouth

* All of a sudden he’s ugly turned on

* “Ugh you’re no fun, I’m going to hang out with Rosalie”

* You leave the room and Edward has a total meltdown, is this what a kink is? Is he discovering a kink?!? At 100 years of age?!?!?!?

* Edward.exe is broken

* You don’t even make it to Rosalie’s room, you can smell them a mile away

* Broccoli, sugar and fat, and axe body spray. No peaches you realize with a sigh.

* They’ve only just barely rung the door bell when you open the door

* “Hey what are you guys doing here?”

* Jessica’s standing in front, looking pretty at ease, while Mike and Angela look equally uncomfortable.

* Makes sense, Jessica’s here all the time now either for homework or to watch TV.

* Mike and Angela haven’t been back since your sweet sixteen

* “How did you get down here so fast?”

* “I saw your car from upstairs” you say with a sheepish smile.

* You wish Alice would have given you a heads up, you weren’t planning on pretending to be human right now. Still you probably look raggedy enough right now in sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt

* You can probably pull this sick thing off

* “We just wanted to check up on you, I heard from Mike and Angela you got sick during class.” And then in a more annoyed tone Jessica adds “And I guess you’re too sick to respond to all my texts and calls”

* Oh crap, where is your phone.

* You pat your pockets, and think when you saw it last

* “I left it in my locker” you smack your head. You told Edward to go grab your bag from class but you forgot your phone.

* “Hey don’t worry about it, I can get it for you tomorrow if you want.” Jessica rushes to your side and pats your arm. You shake your head

* “No I can get it myself, I’m fine I just ate something bad.” You mumble.

* You’re not missing school tomorrow. You would literally risk murder to smell Bella again.

* It’s not insatiable thirst like described in the books, more like a craving, like someone might have for nachos.

* It itches at you for a while, but if you just distract yourself long enough you can move on

* “Would you like to come in? I think Esme just baked cookies or scones or something.”

* Esme likes to bake for the smell and donate the food to the local shelter. That, or take it for her employees at her architectural firm in town.

* Firm is a loose word, she has maybe four employees, and they get one job a month, but it seems to make her happy.

* Angela and Mike give each other looks but Jessica perks up

* “Is she making those delicious earl grey scones again?” You sniff the air

* “I think she made some of that orange zest butter too”

* “Omg I am so happy you left your phone at school” Jessica giggles walking inside past you, you hear her greet Esme with a squeal

* “They really are good.” You tell them and your remaining human friends enter the house carefully

* “Soooo where is everyone?” Mike asks taking a look around your living room.

* “Ummm Rosalie’s in the garage, Alice is probably meditating on the roof, Emmett’s at swim practice, and Jasper’s probably at the barn.”

* “What about Edward?” Angela asks before Mike can ask about the barn

* Last you saw him he was playing the piano in your room, but it’s been a while since then

* “He’s probably in his room monologuing about the degradation of the American dream or something.”

* You lead them into the kitchen where Esme and Jessica are already deep in conversation about the wonder of her baking

* “-side is so light and fluffy, how do you get the tea flavor though”

* “Witchcraft.” Esme jokes, giving a full smile before putting another tray in the oven. Only Jessica laughs, the other two are too nervous to even sit down

* “Why don’t I teach you how when you come over next week.”

* Yeah you’re pretty sure Jessica is really only a fan of the “eating” and not of the “baking”

* You’re half surprised when she seems happy at the invitation. 

* “Oh that sounds great, I can’t wait for it!” Jessica’s practically beaming

* Where’s Edward when you need him? You wonder what her motivations are. 

* Jasper is not going to like this. He’s already irritated enough that he’s kicked out of his own house every Friday when Jessica comes over to watch arrested development

* Before you can say anything to Esme the conversation moves forward

* “Did you guys hear about that security guard that died in Mason county?”

* She’s just making small talk, you know that. But you and Esme instantly tense at the mention

* Carlisle had mentioned he thought there was a nomad wandering through, they were still far enough not to cause the coven immediate trouble, but anything that brought more attention to them was a disadvantage

* “My Dad says he heard from Chief Swan it was probably a wild animal attack” Mike mumbles over a bite of scone, you figured he would be the easiest to win over with food

* You hide a smile behind your hand, he really is like a golden retriever

* “What kind of a wild animal climbs stairs into a building” Jessica mumbles over another bite of scone. And maybe to fit in, or maybe because she’s always been a nervous eater, Angela takes a bite too.

* “Oh wow, these are really good” she murmurs

* Esme Cullen ladies and gentleman, winning the hearts of teenagers with baked goods since 19XX

* “Well you kids stay safe, stay together if you can.” She pats your head and you nod.

* You don’t know the details of the attack, you get the feeling Carlisle still see’s you as a kid and he doesn’t want to burden you.

* But assuming the small changes that have happened have nothing to do with the large changes, that means Laurent, James and Victoria will be passing through soon.

* Maybe it’s for the best Bella doesn’t get involved with Edward until later.

* You’d really like to not get all mixed up in the whole “James Thing” if you can help it.

* “Are you staying for dinner? I’m thinking of whipping up some pasta, maybe a chicken?” Esme looks to you, yeah you have no idea how she’s going to manage that. Besides the baking basics there’s no actually food in this kitchen. And the one upstairs is just for your blood bags.

* “(Y/N), do you think...Carlisle would mind if we used one of... his chickens?”

* His chickens? The only chickens in the house-

* “No Esme! My chickens are only for love and chicken snuggles” and their blood which tastes very leans yet rich. “Not to eat!”

* “It would just be one-we’ll eat your least favorite!”

* You’re really hoping this is her way of chasing the humans out because she doesn’t want to cook.

* “No- oh my god- we’re going to the diner come on!” You say tugging Jessica and Angela to stand.

* “It was great seeing you again Mrs. Cullen, see you next week!” Jessica shouts as the three of them follow you out.

* “Going out? Is that such a good idea it’s late and a school night.” Edward says as he descends down the stairs

* “Oh my god, yes Dad I’ll be home before my curfew.” You say before leaving, cue Edward crumbling onto the stairs as he imagines you calling him “daddy” again

* “I’m going to hell, I’m definitely going to hell.” He mumbles, his face in his hand.

* It’s a really short drive to the diner, also known as the only place to eat in Forks in the mid 2000’s. 

*There’s not even a McDonald’s. It’s almost sad

* And when you get there, while everyone moves ahead to the table you see a familiar face.

* “Oh, Hey Bella”

* Your eyes met and you figured it would be rude not to say anything. It looks like she’s here having dinner with her Dad. 

*She really does look like her dad, same eyes, same cheekbones.

* “Nice to see you again Chief Swan”

* “Nice to see you too, how’s Carlisle doing? Heard it’s been busy at the hospital.”

* “Yeah, it’s like he doesn’t sleep anymore.” You grin at your own joke.

* “Are you feeling alright now?” Bella asks, she looks genuinely concerned

* “Yeah, I um, made some questionable food choices at lunch.”

* There’s an awkward moment of silence. You get the impression that Chief Swan and his daughter are both the “strong silent” types.

* It looks like they’ve both finished eating already

* If you had known she was going to be here you would have made Edward come with you. 

* “Oh hey, do you want to join us for dinner?” It just seems like the friendly thing to do for the new girl, something on-brand with human character

* Definitely not because if you get on her good side now, maybe she won’t kick you out once her and Edward get married. 

*Father and daughter exchange a glance and the familiar connection they have makes you nervous. 

*“Of course you don’t have to, I know you’re here with your dad so-“

* “I’m sure Bella would love to join-“ Charlie says at the same time Bella says:

* “Wouldn’t it be kind of weird since I already ate.”

* Ah, so they’re not as in sync as you thought. 

* You give your best “Golden Girl - You can totally trust me with your daughter” smile.

* “I’m actually not eating either,” you place a hand over your stomach like a human might. “The uh, Clam Linguine is still haunting me, so I’m sticking to broth and sprite.”

* Why did you say Clam? You don’t even eat meat, it’s how you’ve been getting away with eating so little at lunch. 

* “not a lot of vegetarian choices” You say to your human friends who nod solemnly. 

* Father and Daughter exchange another look likening telepathic communication and they both move to stand

* “I’m going to finish up some paperwork at the precinct, don’t stay out to late.” Charlie says, leaning down to kiss his daughter on the forehead

* You watch with warm eyes and a small smile twitching onto your lips

* Bella is so loved.

* You can’t believe she’s willing to break her dad’s heart just so she can be 19 forever.

* Which, as you are 19 forever, you can fairly say is overrated

* “Hey guys Bella’s joining us.”

* Your female friends offer her a polite smile, you see Angela gaze flick from the menu to Bella’s face. Silently calculating the worth of this opportunity

* Any intel on this new girl would be pretty valuable

* Same old Angela

* Mike sits up straight so fast that he actually knocks his silverware off the table.

* “H-hey Bella, Hi, w-what, what are you doing here?”

* “Eating.” Bella says it so bluntly that you can’t help but laugh.

* Mike flushes bright red and Jessica and Angela exchange a look before giggling.

* “I thought it would be cool if she came over since I didn’t get to talk to her much.” You take a seat next to Jessica and Bella follows by taking the last seat between you and Mike.

* You still catch whiffs of her scent her and there, especially when she’s sitting so close to you.

* But it’s not so bad, the peachy smell is making you a little lightheaded, but you can handle it.

* At least you’re not fantascizing about killing her and everyone in this room like a certain dork you know.

* “Do you guys want to do that promotion where we get the basket of fries for the table?” Jessica asks

* “I don’t like sharing fries with Mike he eats them all.” Angela mumbles

* Yeah you remember last time when after a football game the three of them actually sat down and divided the plate in three equal portions

* They even measured out each fry dividing up the extra long ones 

* “Says the person who basically eats ketchup with a spoon.” Mike retorts and Angela scoffs

* “It’s America’s best condiment for a reason Mike.” Angela snaps back

* “I think we’re getting off track, I say Mike buys us all french fries to make up for all the times he hogged the joint basket” Jessica’s teasing but Mike takes it seriously

* “What so I’m a French fry monster now?”

* “Yes” Both Angela and Jessica respond in unison without looking up from their menu cards

* “What do you think Bella?” You’re surprised that Jessica’s the one asking. You get the feeling she’s not very happy about Mike’s crush on Bella.

* “I think Mike should buy everyone their own basket since he has such a bad history with sharing.”

* “You traitor!” Mike mocks hurt and you all laugh.

* You look at Bella through the corner of your eye, maybe it’s just the lighting but she looks pinker when she’s laughing.

* She looks happy as she starts contributing to the conversation.

* “I will say the pie here is really good, I wouldn’t share even if someone paid me to.”

* “Omg yes, the cheery icebox pie is out of this world” Jessica responds

* “I’m partial to chess pie” Mike pipes in and Angela laughs

* “You guys are crazy, the fruit custard they make is the best”

* You grin as your four new friends argue about the superior dessert, watching Bella laugh beside you.

* Welcome to team human Bella

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