#fantastic. AND reasonably priced!

[mybreadsmybutters]

rip to everyone watching the debate rn personally i am snacking on ghost dots and reveling in the mystery of what flavor the dot could be each time. i am like bbc sherlock holmes if he was happy.

[sophieswundergarten]

MBS Humans as BIRDS Because I have been thinking about this for a bit and you can't stop me

Also, normally I would be factoring in sexual dimorphism for accuracy, but not today. We're not even worrying about size or anything today. Today it's all about aesthetics :)

Reynie - Cactus Wren

Sticky - Whip-poor-will

Kate - Caique

Constance - Galah Cockatoo

Mr. Benedict - Kākāpō

Number Two - Rufous hummingbird

Rhonda - Secretary Bird

Milligan - Philippine Eagle

Miss Perumal - Hoopoe

Curtain - Spix's macaw

Garrison - Monk parakeet/Quaker parrot

SQ - Kestrel

Martina - European Starling

Jackson - Killdeer

Jillson - Little ringed plover

Jeffers - Rock Pigeon

Ten Men - Barred Owls

[nicoooooooooooooooooo]

erm guys I think this guy really likes nico

i mean. my icon is literally a commission of nico from my fic. although it would be so funny if nico was actually my least favourite

[oldtvandcomics]

Reblogging mostly to have these recommendations somewhere I can find them, but if I'm already at it:

Mostly horror, but works just as well as alternate history: The two Dread Nation books by Justina Ireland. Civil War era zombies, but the real evil is racism. They were SO GOOD!! They did get some fame, too, as far as I know (I got there years late, as usual), but they could get even more popularity?

Also horror, Consecrated Ground by Virginia Black. Vampires are besieging a town, a witch needs to fight them before the protective magic runs out. It's the first in a series, but can be left as stand-alone, if you so desire. Not one of the best books that I have read, but it was a really solid read, especially since the author is self-published. (And OMG, I'm just seeing that she has a space opera book out?? I will need to get to that at some point!!) You absolutely could do worse than this book.

And look, I know that it is old enough to count as a classic by now, but OMG, people, read Imaro!!! The author is Charles R. Saunders and it was first published in 1981. It is sword and sorcery, the main character is wandering through a fantasy Africa being very cool and heroic. The worldbuilding is AMAZING, and it's honestly sad that nobody ever seems to remember that these books exist.

PLEASE for the love of the universe read anti-colonial science fiction and fantasy written from marginalized perspectives. Y’all (you know who you are) are killing me. To see people praise books about empire written exclusively by white women and then turn around and say you don’t know who Octavia Butler is or that you haven’t read any NK Jemisin or that Babel was too heavy-handed just kills me! I’m not saying you HAVE to enjoy specific books but there is such an obvious pattern here

Some of y’all love marginalized stories but you don’t give a fuck about marginalized creators and characters, and it shows. Like damn

[enigmaris]

All Father Thor, King of Asgard,

A new ruler of Hel has been chosen, the fearsome King Phantom, defeater of Pariah Dark. It is time for Asgard to prepare to pay the dues required to keep peace between the realms of the gods and of the dead. Bring the terms of your surrender to King’s Phantom’s representative on earth, Daniel James Fenton of Amity Park.

The Noble Scribe of King Phantom,

Ghost Writer

*****

“Okay so let me get this straight,” Tony Stark, Iron Man and Avenger said. “Ghosts are real.”

“Yes.” King Thor Odinson, Asgardian and god of thunder agreed.

“And they’re evil.”

“A bit of an oversimplification, but yes.” Prince Loki Odinson, sometimes villain and would be planet invader, answered.

“And the ghosts have had one ruler, the most powerful ghost in existence. And that new rulers are chosen by combat, meaning that every new ruler is more powerful than the last.”

“Yes, you’ve got the idea.” Thor said looking down at his knees for a moment.

“And since ghosts are so evil and so powerful, that means that their ruler is practically an unstoppable force of destruction.”

“Doesn’t it sound delightful?” Loki asked, to which he received a glare.

“So, for the past 10,000 years, at least, Asgard and plenty of other realms have been paying taxes to the ghost king to avoid a war. A racketeering scheme.”

“I don’t know what a racketeering scheme is but yes, the ghost peace treaty does require that Asgard pay the ghost king gold and magical weapons every century and if we fail to pay that price, then the peace treaty will be broken and Asgard will likely be forfeit.”

“That’s a racketeering scheme!”

“Well then yes.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. It was clear the man’s headache was only growing stronger as he walked through the information the two gods had dumped into his lap this morning. Thor and Loki both had rushed into his lab and started babbling about world ending threats and how they might possibly be absolutely screwed.

“So, now there’s a new king. Which means a new peace treaty has to be signed.” Tony said the words ‘peace treaty’ in the same way he’d say ‘nuclear bomb’ or ‘Steve Rogers’.

“I thought you said it was a racketeering scheme?” Loki asked.

“Shut it.” Tony hissed.

“A new treaty must be signed.” Thor repeated, trying to keep the three of them on track.

“And since the last king Pariah Dark was so powerful that he made the entirety of Asgard tremble, you’re pretty sure this new king, Phantom, is probably worse.”

“Pariah Dark had the power to suck entire planets into the afterlife, destroying them,” Loki said looking at his nails. “Stands to reason that a ghost powerful enough to defeat him could do much, much worse.”

“Right. Fantastic!” Tony practically shouted.

“I don’t think anything about this is fantastic.” Thor admitted, he was ignored.

“And according to you Asgard has been paying the ghost tax for both their realm and ours since we were under Odin’s protection. And since Hela and Sutur destroyed your entire planet and your entire people are refugees, now we have to figure out how to keep an ultrapowerful ghost from wiping out our home without any way of paying him.”

“Technically we don’t know if Phantom is a ‘he’.” Loki pointed out unhelpfully.

“The letter literally says he’s a king!”

“Could be a title. What do the dead have need for gender?”

“This is not the point of this discussion,” Thor cut in before an argument about the usefulness of gender and the concept of a female king burst forth. “We’re here to figure out how to make peace with King Phantom without resulting in a war that would destroy our world and our peoples.”

“We don’t even have Earth’s mightiest heroes anymore.” Loki said, referencing the painful results of the civil war and the Accords.

��We’re fucked.” Tony decided.

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “We probably are.”

[starboye]

"𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒"

Day I - Older!Captain Price fucking femboy!younger!male reader

Day II - Rafe Cameron disciplining male reader because you were acting all bratty at one of his parties

Day III - Drew Starkey making male reader his bitch and dominating him after having a hard day

Day IV - Nate Jacobs choking male reader while fucking him

Day V - Stiles Stilinski rough fucking ftm!male reader and talking about how much he want you to get pregnant

Day VI - Gojo Saturo and male reader role playing you as the damsel in distress and gojo saving you and dicking you down as a prize

Day VII - Simon Riley breeding male reader over and over till you're filled with his delicious cum

Day VIII - Matt Sturniolo having a praise kink and top!male reader using that to your advantage throughout sex

Day IX - Tom Holland edging male reader so much

Day X - Chris Sturniolo fucking you till your an incoherent mess in front of a mirror

Day XI - Perter Parker orgasm denial from top!male reader

Day XII - remy gets jealous for whatever reason and he makes you watch him jack off and you can't touch him. You just have to sit in front of him and watch him and when he finishes he makes you swallow all of it

Day XIII - rough smut with Nicholas Alexander Chavez, maybe some guy tries flirting with reader and Nicholas gets pissed and rough fucks reader, maybe some daddy kink

Day XIV - Billy Loomis x SubTop shy nerdy Male Reader😭

Day XV - bellamy blake x thick fem boy reader, where everyone is having a party with drinking and dancing, and bellamy see reader dancing with other men and they keep grabbing his big ass bc it’s so big. so bellamy takes reader away and fucks that ass (also some face sitting 😏)

Day XVI - helping channing tatum at the gym and somehow stuff turns nsfw, do anything ya want with that, i'm just really REALLY desperate for stuff about him, can be short, can be long idc

Day XVII - cuck/stag fic with Charles leclerc the f1 driver, he seems like he’d be a huge cumdump behind closed doors and the reader could share him as punishment/desperation.

Day XVIII - Professor Miguel O’Hara and his student-boyfriend meeting up after class. Why, you ask? Well, the professor’s got a meeting. He’s gotta head home and take a shower. But a shower means washing away his glorious, glorious sweat and musk. He doesn’t want to deprive his good little slut of his favorite things in the world, so tells his boy to give him a tongue bath before his real one.

Day XIX - You want kinky? Musk kink, boot kink, choking kink, and of course knife play with Ghostface (whichever version) the ftm!reader fought back when GF tried to kill em, they all get sweaty and turned on so the fighting turned to fucking, Ghostface being Ghostface, he's all degrading, making the reader do stuff like grind on his boots, lick the blood off his knife and fuck themselves with the handle of it, all those good shit, what you think? Not too far?

Day XX - Sue Storm and The Thing are in an undercover mission which leaves Human Torch (Chris Evans), reader and Mr Fantastic (John Krasinski) alone in the same building. Johnny and reader use their free time to fuck, waking Reed from his sleep who is both frustrated and horny from reader's moans, he gets to the scene and finds Johnny fucking reader while holding him standing, this makes Reed turn feral and joins them to make a really dirty night

Day XXI - Mike Schmidt x kinky male reader who introduces him to the world of BDSM. Mike being a sub top with a praise kink, breeding kink, pet play (like having a leash on him and such) and other nasty things! Maybe even a bit of edging, like M/N punishing him by cockwarming him without letting him cum for a good while, leaving Mike needy and desperate to fill his boyfriends tight hole with his warm seed😮‍💨

Day XXII- ross lynch x onlyfans creator!reader, reader is recording himself for his only fans and as he is fingering himself ross walks in to his room and sees his roommate knuckles deep so reader gets an idea and stands up invites ross to come join and ross jumps on to the bed and start rimming him and fucks him like a slut and after they finish ross puts a cute little diamond butt plug

Day XXIII- soft dom soap x sub male reader where reader tries to be bratty to push soap but soap just treats him kindly like “oh you poor thing have I been neglecting you?” But like not in a mocking way and reader breaks kinda quickly and is good for soap enter babbling reader while soap coos praises

Day XXIV - Dom top Felix and bottom femboy male Reader where the middle of the night Felix catches reader in his bedroom fucking himself with a dildo moaning Felix's name saying fuck me Daddy so Felix steps into the room grabs Reader by the hair and starts fucking his face with big cock saying you want Daddy to fuck you and while Felix is fucking the Reader's face uses the dildo to fuck the reader then Felix is fills the reader's mouth full of cum and make some swallow then turns the reader on his hands and knees and just starts fucking the reader on the bed pulls him against his chest grabs his throat and just starts fucking him as hard as he can with the reader screaming Daddy Felix spanking the reader Felix just filling him full of cum reader belongs to Daddy now then the next morning Felix is fucking the reader as hard as he can against the window of the bedroom

Day XXV - Hiram Lodge and stepson femboy bottom male reader where Hiram has secretly been having sex with his stepson and turning him into his slutty bottom boy today alone for the whole month of October and Rita's dressing up in the slutty little school girl outfit with the mini skirt and thong and heels and Hiram and him want to try bondage so he gets all the equipment and Hiram ties the Reader's hands behind his back as Reader licks hiram's muscles and I'm face fucking male reader till he fills his mouth full of c** and then just starts fucking him while he's tied up pulling his hair and putting a ball gag in the Reader's mouth with bondage kink come eating muscle worship daddy kink and Hiram talking about getting reader pregnant if that's okay

Day XXVI - Logan howlette making ftm reader wear a bunny langire after his workout coming back all musky and sweaty all pent up and fucks male reader while male reader licks up logans sweat etc. Making logans smell kink and breed kink go off and fully breads male reader / size difference with Wolverine and an FTM reader. Logan is much bigger and stronger than reader and can pick him up, pin him down, and throw him around with ease and both of them go bonkers for it. Logan loves the control and power he has to play with reader as he pleases and reader loves feeling overpowered and in Logan's complete control

Day XXVII - sub!thicc femboy ftm reader x dom!homelander where reader is a supe in the seven who is stronger than all the heros and especially homelander but not strong enough in bed?? homelander finds reader in his apartment right in his room trying on the shortest skirts that shows his ass and pink high stockings, reader trys to explain before he gets his ass eaten and fucked raw until he cant breathe properly. i want some breeding kinks and alot of spanking, and ass worship if thats okay? i know ur busy but im just requesting this only if you have time, please and thank you.

Day XXVIII- X-Men 97 magneto and younger 18 year oldbottom femboy male reader loves that magneto so much older than him and has a daddy kink so when they're alone he catches magneto and nothing but a pair purple underwear so he starts kissing magneto licking down his muscles does magneto poses you sucking on his nipples and licking his abs body kissing down licking on his muscles drop to his knees and starts sucking magnetos big cock and balls magnet o moaning and calling reader a good boy grabbing his hair starts face fucking him then magneto pics reader up and starts fucking him right there till he feels him so full of c** and then throws reader over his desk and just keeps fucking him daddy kink breeding Kink and cum eating kink maybe you had Magneto's power somehow for bondage maybe readers power to make someone feel pleasure or pain how you want to do it maybe

Day XXIX - Step brother Tyler Lawrence Gray rough fucks his big bubble but step brother and cums in him

Day XXX - rafe cameron x thicc/male reader x topper x barry your dads is a football coach and rafe, topper, and barry are his star players so he invites them over and you get called down the stairs and they all just start staring at you and your juicy ass so as the night goes on whenever they walk by you they rub their bulges your ass or whenever you bend down to pick something up they always touch your ass…. After a while your dad goes to sleep and rafe, topper and barry goes into your room and they talk to you and rafe starts sitting on your bed and rubbing your thighs and then they finally convince you to have a foursome and they take turns eating your ass and while rafe is fuckin your ass he tells you not to be so loud your dad is sleeping so barry puts his dick in your mouth and you start sucking and your jerking off topper and they take turns and after awhile you are just fucked out with some many loads up your ass and rafe grabs his phone and spreads open your ass to take a video but after he’s done Barry and topper clean you out with their tongues and rafe helps you put your clothes on and in the morning your dad ask why are you limping and rafe laughs

Day XXXI - James mcavoy fic where James is reader’s dad best friend and he is coming over to stay for the summer reader and James don’t really get along at first. But one night James comes out the shower while reader is still awake and James ends up fucking him and eating him out hard and has him worship James body through scent and kissing etc

[sgt-tombstone]

I’m so tempted to write a shifter fic where Ghost is a big cat (I’m thinking black panther or something similar) shifter… but he doesn’t know it

He thinks that he’s not a shifter at all because he only shifts in his sleep and even when he’s startled awake, he shifts back in a split second, before his brain can even register not being human

It makes him a fantastic sniper, because he has better vision than a human, even if he doesn’t realize it. It gives him excellent hearing, but he doesn’t know that it’s better than everyone else’s (at least, not to a suspicious degree). His eyes flash in the dark, but he’s never seen it because he avoids mirrors like the plague. He thinks that his fast reflexes are just army trained instead of innate. He has a strong prey drive, but he reasons that it’s just his job as a CT operative; they hunt for a living. He genuinely does not know that he’s a shifter, and the rest of the 141 refuse to tell him (Price because having a big cat prowling around base would be worse than Ghost already is… Soap and Gaz because they have a three-year-long bet to see how long it’ll take him to figure it out)

Soap is some sort of dog shifter (because I’m basic like that) and Ghost makes fun of him all the time, both for being a shifter and for being a stereotype of his animal self. Gaz always dies laughing and Ghost can tell that Soap is holding back laughter too, but he can never figure out why…

[majinbangus]

I love Big Simon and Lil Simon so much!! I don't know if they are prompts or something you have planned out, but the one coming up next for Big Simon's friends got my thinking about Simon hosting a match night (not by choice maybe?) and Lil Simon ends up watching the game with them and Big Simon has to keep reminding everyone to watch their mouths (cause he's absolutely secretly turning into Dad Simon)!

ooh so i might switch up the order between 'big simon's friends' and 'not-date' but this is a cute prompt idea i could add it, or something similar, into the big simon's friends one.

im glad you like that little series <3 here's a little something that could be read as simon texting the 141 group chat for unrelated reasons, but the guys team up against him and make plans (ie 'big simon's friends' plot setup) that cannot be avoided

Simon: > Oi

Johnny: > Ghost, I swear if you make me cancel another date > unless... > is it your lad and lady

Garrick: > Ghost has a lady?

Simon: > Shut up, Johnny

Johnny: > No > I'm right, aren't I?

Garrick: > Hello? > Ghost has a lady?

Johnny: > ikr > I was shocked too

Simon: > Slags, that's not what this is about

Boss: > Sergeants, enough. > Ghost tell us what you were contacting us about

Simon: > Gladly

Boss: > And how about we all meet for afternoon tea sometime > Ghost, you can brief us more thoroughly that way

Garrick: > I have time

Johnny: > Tea sounds fantastic

Simon: > You don't even like tea Johnny

Johnny: > I don't but I'll stop shitting on you about making me cancel my date > I like your lad and lady, so I won't give them hell > but you're fair game

Boss: > So it's settled > Ghost?

Simon: > Bloody hell > Tea fucking time it is

Unseen among the rest of the group, Simon's eye twitches as he reads through the messages again.

"Knobheads, the lot of them."

And because he's feeling petty, he (temporarily) changes Soap and Gaz's names to Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 with Price's name switched respectfully as Captain Idiot.

[yeyinde]

So I had a thought recently, but I have no one in my life who would understand the machinations of my mind that led me to this thought nor how dearly I cling to it now and for no other reason than I think it would be goddamn fantastic. So hear me out: isolated, lonely, incredibly possessive Lighthouse Keeper John Price x Selkie (not used to being in human body) Reader…

serious question. where have you been all my life?? whatever machinations are going on inside your head are just *chefs kiss*

but also. i love this. i've been itching to do something moody and morose—that sort of midwinter, blue-orange feeling—and i was thinking bearwalker Price or fargo-esque Price but this is IT!!

and maybe selkie!Reader is a bit animal-like when it comes to humans—a wary sort of fear, but a genuine curiosity that brings them closer—and having spent their whole life in the sea (the last of a dying breed)—they're incredibly naïve. they trust him. so when he says "we're married," they just. accept it.

and i'd love for Price to hunt mc in the beginning, too. i can see him standing on the lookout deck of the lighthouse, firing shots at this shape in the water. and maybe that's what makes you wash up on shore. he goes to look at what he shot and he finds you. finds your skin. takes it. hides it.

Price teaches them what it means to be married. lil corruption kink sprinkled in. a whole lotta "you're my wife." they inadvertently feed the monster inside of him, this festering loneliness (sea madness).

i'm so in love with this. i love when humans corrupt the monster because sure, we're altruistic. we saved this poor creature but also. we're possessive and greedy and to Price—he saved you. no one else. him. you owe him something, don't you?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

messy little snapshot of their relationship i whipped up quick is under the cut

"Now you," he prods, and leans back on the chair, knees spread as you wobble around in his lap, getting used to the feeling of having such long, limberous legs. His hands fall to your bare thighs, holding firm as you squirm around. Restless little thing.

"Me?" You echo, blinking at him with wide, wet eyes. That's the only part that really marks you as other in this skin. Glossy, black. Too wide. Too animal. The colour beneath is slowly peaking through the inky murk, bleeding in the longer you stay on land, but it's obvious that you're not human.

His cracked, sea-dried knuckles brush over the curve of your cheek, petting the silken, human skin that you say fits too tight. He thinks it's perfect.

"Yes," he grunts, shifts his weight. "Do what I just did to you. Lemme see if you were payin' attention like you said you were. Wanna be my good little wife, don't you?"

There's a knot between your brows. The innocuous urge to tell him that you don't have a choice when he's holding your skin hostage puddling on the tip of your tongue, but he slides his hands over your flanks, feeling the powder softness of your skin under his fingers, nails catching in a quick grip. A reprimand. It leaves in a huff. A shuddering breath.

You're still getting used to the sensation of hands on your body. Still acclimating to the one you wear—chock full of nerves, a basin of raw, undulled sensation that you don't feel when you're a seal. The pelt a protective armour against it that humans don't have.

A kinder man would have slowed down. Let you get used to the feeling. Maybe even gave you back your skin and let you choose.

But that's not him.

No. He digs the tips of his fingers into the meaty back of your thighs and pulls you closer against his groin. Chest to chest. Nearly face to face if he didn't have a whole head over you.

"C'mon," he urges, belly warming at the way you gasp when your naked core meets the cold metal of his belt. "I'm not a very patient man, love."

Your hamstrings tighten under his palm as you lift yourself up, eyes still wide and wet and unbearably curious as you press your slick, warm mouth to his in a clumsy pastiche of the kiss he gave you moment ago.

You taste of the ocean. Briny. Seafoam. Kelp. He groans a little into your clumsy, almost childish attempt to replicate what he just did to you—slick little tongue brushing over the seam of his mouth, drenching the wry curls that over his lips. It's too wet. Too slick. No finesse.

But his cock throbs in heavy, angry pulses under your ass. Aching already. He groans into it, sliding one hand up the oil-slick skin of your sides until he reaches the delicate slip of your throat. Wrapping a hand around it until he he feels your pulse thunder against his thumb. Pretty thing.

He can't wait to teach you something else you can do with this pretty little mouth, that slippery little tongue—

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

SECOND ROUND: 36th Tilt

King Richard III Plantagenet, The White Queen (2013) VS. Will Scarlett, The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Propaganda

King Richard III Plantagenet, The White Queen (2013) Portrayed by: Aneurin Barnard Defeated Opponents: - “Taunting French Guard” [John Cleese], Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1972) - Robin Hood [Richard Todd], The Story of Robin Hood and His Merrie Men (1952)

“These puppy eyes could turn anyone into a Yorkist. "He's so pretty I want to cry".”

Will Scarlett, The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) Portrayed by: Patrick Knowles Defeated Opponents: - Syrio Forel [Miltos Yerolemou], Game of Thrones (2011-2019) - King Caspian X [Samuel West], BBC’s Prince Caspian and the Voyage of the Dawn Treader (1989)

“Will Scarlett: red Gucci boots. a little lute that he likes to strum. does absolutely nothing relevant to the plot and I think punches a guy, MAYBE once? is otherwise functionally useless. nonviolent king of the twinks. clearly the best character in robin hood (1938)”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Richard III:

“Beautiful Richard. Were I Anne Neville, I too would have been in love with him from the moment I met him. His voice is like the wind; but a whisper, unless he must needs raise it, and then it is a roar; loud and powerful and terrible. I desire him.”

“He's supposed to be the most villain ever but he's so hot in a wet pathetic way. your kingdom for a horse? no need dicky you can ride me.”

For Will Scarlett:

“Will Scarlett, gorgeous, useless vision in red that you are. Truly the template for the useless vibing Merry Man who does nothing but chill and sing little songs.”

"reasons to vote for will scarlett:

he's useless. he does 0 things that contribute to the story beyond vibes. he is the icon for all of us who would drop into a swashbuckler adventure story and then do nothing besides look fantastic and fuck the hot male lead.

resources are limited and yet for some reason robin hood keeps around a man with 0 backstory, no fighting skills, who wears bright red when they're trying to sneak up on people and reacts to robin actually trying to save lives by looking like this:

"3. he plays the lute. he sings little songs when robin is getting his ass kicked. again, deeply relatable and who we all want to be

4. he is visually linked by wearing scarlet with robin's other main love interest, maid marian, who wears red at the pivotal moment she falls in love with robin hood (will scarlett, already happily esconsed in permanent fuckbuddy status, wears it continually)

"this tournament is full of manly men, heroic men, good and true men. but if we're getting truly hot we need to include some Useless Bastards, and peregrin took can not hold down this important coalition alone."

[readychilledwine]

The Art of a Dress

Summary - After commissioning you to make some of his mother's designs come to life, Rhysand faces the reality that artwork is more than what's painted on Feyre's canvas and even fabric can envoke memory.

Warnings - Parenting, children, vague mention of death, angsty-ish, Liz not doing the Venus and Junon dresses justice, platonic reader relationship

A/n - The first of my Christmas fics that don't center around Christmas. I was inspired to write this after talking to @daycourtofficial . It's how I imagine Feysand having a daughter will go.. Her and Feyre would constantly coordinate or match outfits. They'd be that mommy daughter duo.

✨️Master Masterlist✨️

Starfall.

Rhysand was beyond ready for Starfall. The cherished holiday had begun to mean so much more than just the traveling of souls across the sky almost 7 years ago.

Specifically because of the little girl holding his hand, her long dark hair bouncing with each step as his son and Feyre walked behind them, warm cups of hot chocolate in hand. Nyx had grown into a handsome young male at 20 years old, turning and winking at his little sister as she held Rhysand's hand.

“Do you think y/n got the dress perfect, daddy?” Deep blue eyes looked up at him as Lenora looked up at him. Her sweet face was etched in concern.

Rhysand only felt his lips twitch up, thinking of his long time friend. You had been trained as a seamstress by his mother, and your designs had quickly become demanded all across the Night Court. Fashion was art to you, it held no boundaries, no limitations. It was self expression, freeing.

For that reason, you were the only one he trusted to create the twin gowns he had found in his mother's sketch book. “Without a doubt, starlight,” he said to her. “It is probably better than we imagined.”

“It's just my big birthday,” she whispered, almost afraid you would disappoint her.

“Every year is your big birthday, Lala” Nyx rolled his eyes before opening the doors to white shop filled with many windows. Each window had a different display. Gowns and decor showing off y/n's skills and mastery of the craft.

You had opened today just for the High Lord and his family. The Inner Circle was already all seated as you locked the doors and then hugged Feyre, “I think we start with you, momma,” you said to her. “I need to talk to Rhysand really quick if you three want to head back,” you motioned towards the velvet sitting area for Nyx and then the dressing room for Feyre.

Lenora had already run to Azriel, picked up in his arms as you looked at Rhysand. “So, we need to have a gentle talk.”

Rhysand gave you a playful shoulder shove, “Price is no concern. I know you probably put in a lot of effort.”

“It's not about price. It's about Lenora. These dresses were originally designed for your mom and sister. Who your daughter looks a lot like.”

Rhysand brushed it off, having mentally prepared, at least he thought, “I'll be okay.”

You only nodded. “Then we should start.” You followed Feyre only laughing as you saw her face. The dresses you had been given to design were works of true artistry and would fall into the history of Night Court iconic moments.

The dress was a deep rich black with a fairly simple top. A straight strapless neckline with black beading that was heavier towards the top and faded to the drop waist. Two solid panels of matching black fabric at the top and on the waist.

The skirt was where the magic began.

The skirt was layered with elongated scallop shapes that felt almost flower petals like. Each one had silver and purple jewels and sequins sewn into the edges and up. Even the train matched the details, not a single spot looking out of place.

You had spared no expense on this dress, which, to Feyre, meant her daughter's matching dress would be just as fantastic.

Feyre was silent except for the occasional emotional huff of air as you pulled up the hidden zipper. “Is it comfortable,” you asked softly.

“Yes. Not even nearly as heavy as I expected.”

You nodded at her statement, “The fabric is from Scythia. It is so buttery soft it's extra gentle on your skin. I won't get into the details on the sequins and jewel work with you. Your dear husband.. spent far too much money getting me the ones he wanted for quality.”

The High Lady nodded, “Can we show them?” You helped her step down before opening the curtain. It was a collective gasp as the first of two dresses made its debut.

Rhysand immediately circled his mate like a hawk, checking the quality of the beading placement, the cuts of each scalloped edge. “Fantastic,” he finally approved. “You look beautiful, Feyre Darling.”

Feyre was all smiles before glancing at Lenora, “I imagine you don't want to wait to see yours?”

“No,” the princess immediately ran into the dressing room, making you laugh as you pulled the curtain and began helping her.

Her dress was similar to Feyre's, only adapted to fit her slender and youthful self. This dress had heavy black beading on the strapless top. This dress had a scalloped edge neckline that seemed to melt into the drop waist. The skirt had an over layer, scallops that matched Feyre's in color and design, only this dress had one layer before falling into full shining black tulle skirts. The back was your favorite part. Those scallops continued in the back, that petal look and texture running just the train of the princess-like gown. You and Rhysand had selected this to be Lenora’s dress for weight reasons, and as you zipped her up, you didn't regret that choice.

You glanced at the little princess in the mirror, “Do you love it?”

“Yes,” her excited scream had the room beyond them laughing.

“Is it comfortable?”

“Yes!” She ran out then, you laughing as she did and barely making it to the curtain.

She had expected joy, smiles, and laughter. She was welcomed with silence, with Azriel immediately having to leave the room, Cassian squeezing his hands together. Amren and Mor touched Feyre and Nyx, indicating for them to follow the two of them out.

Rhysand had prepared, he told himself as his hands shook. He had mentally readied himself to see his daughter in this gown. Yet that preparation failed in comparison to seeing what he was looking at.

Cassian stood, “I'm so sorry,” he left the room, tears beginning to fall.

“Its not you,” you murmured to Lenora as her little lip trembled. “Shh. It's not you. Give daddy a second.”

Rhys closed his eyes before walking over and kneeling down to her. Lenora broke the silence, “Is it ugly?”

“Mother no,” his voice was breaking. “I'm so sorry baby. This Isn't the reaction you deserved you just-” he looked up at you before taking a deep breath to continue. “You look like your auntie.”

“Like Auntie Ness or Auntie Elain," she glared. There was a right answer.

“No. Like my sister. Like Evangeline.”

The almost 7 year old felt her little face falling. She knew her dad had a sister. One who was gone. But she didn't know the reason why. “Is that why you're all sad?”

“They aren't sad,” you whispered before leaving. "Trust me, dove.

Rhysand thanked your intervention silently. It gave him a moment to process and breathe. “You look so beautiful and grown up,” he studied her face. His daughter wasn't the spitting image of him. No, Lenora was his sister. That same fierceness in her eyes. The same emotional need for approval. That same desire. He had not seen it before, but something about this dress highlighted it.

Cassian was the first to return, “I'm sorry,” he said to Lenora. “I needed a second. I hope you can forgive an emotional old male.”

“Do you think I'm pretty,” she brightened up.

“Oh absolutely. Prettiest girl I've ever seen.” Only Rhysand knew the significance of that sentence. Of who it was last said to. “Might have to tell Ness she needs a new Starfall date and keep you all to myself all night.”

Lenora made a little shocked face before cuddling with Rhysand, “But daddy promised me a dance.”

“I'd surrender you once to your dad. Then all Uncle Cass time,” his voice and smirk were playful though it didn't reach those almost sad eyes. Cassian hugged Lenora, taking the healing that came with that contact and sighing softly “Give Uncle Azzy a few more minutes. Y/n is talking to him.”

And a few more minutes is what it took. Azriel entered with a small box in hand. A little tiara you had paid Neve to make to match Lenora’s dress inside. He wordlessly turned his niece to face the mirror before opening the box and placing the amethyst and grey diamond tiara into her long dark curls. His hands then went to her little shoulders resting there. “Do you know how much we all love you,” Azriel asked her.

“More than the stars?”

All three males nodded. “You look so much like her,” Azriel's voice was tight. “And that is a special thing. Your aunt was a light in darkness. Her smile and laughter brought unmatched happiness when your dad, Cassian, and I needed it most.”

“And now you do,” Rhysand told her, finishing Azriel's thought while squeezing his brother's bicep. “You are perfect, my little love.”

Lenora smiled at herself in the mirror, then as Nyx entered in the suit that coordinated with his baby sister. Her brother wasted no time bringing added excitement to the room by carefully picking her up and standing in the mirror. “We are good looking.”

“Very,” Lenora giggled. “You're handsome.”

“You're breath-taking.”

The three older males watched the sight silently. Feyre joined them again and rested her head on Rhysand's bicep. Mor entered again, still wiping tears. Amren only smiled as she came in with you.

Nyx was still talking to Lenora, pointing at things in the mirror to show his little sister details she missed. The older fae were all silent, this moment closing a wound that they'd hoped was long forgotten.

Nyx, the very image of his father. Lenora the very image of her long gone aunt.

Rhysand finally cleared his throat, “Nyx, let your mother stand by Lala. I want to see the dresses side by side.” The princeling nodded and set his sister down, standing with a hand out to help Feyre onto the pedestal.

“Stunning,” Mor said first. “They're fantastic.”

“Artwork,” Amren flatly said. “These gowns are artwork. They will need to immediately be put in your family archives, High Lord.” A murmur of agreement filled the room, your face flushing.

“You did amazing,” Azriel whispered in your ear. “We had a little doubt this time around with how she drew these.”

“Me too,” You admitted. “I definitely did too.”

Lenora looked gorgeous the next night, faelights twinkling off the jewels on her and Feyre's gown. Nyx currently was waltzing with Feyre. The two of them were only outshined by the birthday girl on her very special day. Her and Rhysand were swaying, her father having picked her up to do so. “I love my dress, daddy.”

He hummed, “I love it too. Happy birthday, my starlight.”

“Thank you,” she leaned her head into him. “Its the most special birthday.”

“The most special birthday for my most special girl,” he said. “Always my most special girl.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites

[thephantomsdream]

At times, I want to smooch my own brain because last night I had the most fantastic dream. Start to finish. Hear me out:

Actor!Simon in a B99-like show. Actor!Johnny was his irl friend and the reason he ended as an actor himself, somehow. The director told Johnny of an idea he had about this scary giant that would barely talk, would put off people and intimidate them by just staring at them. It took the Scott 0.1 seconds to call his friend, a mechanic who fixed motorcycles and worked on his specifically, and also fit the description perfectly. (In any way, it all started with Johnny, who didn't understand boundaries at first, and Simon just ??? went with it, letting the man invite himself in his life, but whatever, they were buddies now. Also, Simon agreed because HE KNEW Johnny was a pain in the ass if he really wanted something.)

Soap and Gaz tried really hard in an episode to make someone confess. We're talking hours and hours spent in the interrogation room with no result, until at the very end Price, the Captain, congratulates them for cracking the case. He asks Johnny how he did it, and the man just shrugs. "All instinct, wha cannea say?" Skip to a scene where he drags Simon to the interrogation room, leaves him there with the suspect, locks the door behind them and said suspect immediately starts crying under Simon's cold death-stare.

Cue to you, another member of the cast, just there as a smaller role, appearing from time to time as the sweetheart receptionist. In real life, you applied to the gig because you were in need of some extra money, but did not expect to get it. In any way, it ended up being the best thing ever happening to you.

The whole cast and crew noticed it, the small smiles Simon sent you and how you'd give him pretty eyes all the time. It was all chemistry from the very start, although both of you kept it lowkey.

Anyway, some ideas ran around the writing crew to make the intimidating giant have some interesting interactions with you in the show. Fans went crazy, a battle of whom to ship started, and of course, Johnny and Simon were a ship, let's be real, throughout some others. Yet some fans started to see some patterns between your characters.

Show!Simon would always help you carry paperwork, the same Simon that glared a newbie out of the academy, or made Kyle write an apology letter because he bumped into him by accident and he had to read said apology out loud in front of the whole department. What I try to say is social interaction, going out of his way to help people and just being over-all nice wasn't Simon's deal. Most of the times.

You'd say you're heading home after the boys worked to find a burglar, and he'd casually drop that he'll take you since he's heading that way too. The same Simon that left Johnny stranded because he ate a burger in his old but very cherished Impala and the man left a ketchup streak on the seat, meaning nobody ever was allowed in his car anymore. But... you got offered a ride? Huh?

Show!You would be known for being sweet and always making fantastic food, like your signature cupcakes. Price would say he'd convince you to bake a whole tray for Simon if he did him a favor and of course Simon would agree immediately. A begrudgingly low "Deal" before he stormed out to do said favor.

But... he wasn't really a glutton. We're talking about the Show!Simon that had a one-way feud with a bakery because the owner made a slightly ignorant comment on their public Facebook, and it's been bothering him forever.

Johnny: Ye have Facebook, LT?

Simon: Course I fucking don't.

(Flashback to him opening FB posing as a granny, commenting shit on the bakery's page and the owner responding with "Dorothy, NOT AGAIN! I ALREADY APOLOGIZED! ON LIVE TV!" And then showing Simon snorting in front of the laptop, drinking a beer amused.)

But some attentive fans caught the Easter egg, a message popping up with a picture of a face very similar to yours. Or the interesting braided dark brown leather bracelet he had around his left wrist only seen when he lifted his arm to drink the beer. It had a single round gem on it. Funnily enough, while it looked like any dude-bro bracelet from afar, enough to not many anyone suspicious, he never seemed to take off his after that point. And one very dedicated fan spotted something. The color of the gem. It was very... peculiar...

Color spotted on your wrist too, throughout many episodes, where a pretty bracelet made of suspiciously similar round gems adorned it nicely. Huuuuh...

There were small little comments you both made, too.

The Captain handed you some documents and smiled amused.

Price: You got tan, sunshine. Enjoyed your vacation?

You: I adored Spain. Loved the small town idea, John, it was so relaxing.

+

Johnny: Hey, Lt., any place you'd move to after you retire?

Simon: Somewhere warm. Like Spain.

Johnny: ??? How come?

Simon: Tapas and vino tinto.

Johnny: (amused) Can ye even speak the language?

Simon: (dead-serious) Camarero, dos vinos tintos, gracias. (Waiter, two tinto wine glasses, thank you.)

Johnny: (baffled, stuttering questions)

Kyle: (behind Johnny, also baffled) Did he say "dos"? (Dos meaning two)

In the break room, you made an apple pie for the team and left it in the good care of Kyle and Simon comes in just as you were leaving.

You: Oh, Simon, good to see you!

And you both leave the break room, all while Kyle is seen trying to text and carry the pie, and immediately drops it as Johnny excitedly enters and spooks him. Meanwhile in the backround there's you handing Simon something out of your bag, oblivious to the pie brutality happening.

Show!Simon enters the break room again with a lunchbox and sits by the crime scene, looking down at the pie, then slowly up at a frozen Garrick and MacTavish. He proceeds to eat his food (later confirmed to be a Shepherd's pie) and ignore them as they freak out because Price LOVED apple pies, specially your pies.

Said later being:

Price: And what were you doing while they ruined my—... our pie?

Simon: Was eating.

Price: (visibly annoyed) That so?

Simon: (visibly smug) Had the best bloody Shepherd's pie ever.

Price: Enough. (Insert grumpy old man tantrum while he storms off to his office)

Why do I mention the Shepherd's Pie? Well, a season later, as the boys try to find out something, anything about The Ghost, Simon Riley, they finally have to beg him to tell them literally anything about himself. What they didn't know is that while he answers smugly that he likes Shepherd's Pies, a simple answer after SO MUCH begging, as you finish the series, you understand that Simon Riley gave these two idiots the most important information they needed to know.

In the later episodes, after a horrible beef with another police station with a dude called Graves, Simon and Kyle sit at a bar drinking, when two beautiful girls approach them. Kyle's all over the moon, meanwhile one of the girls tries to flirt with Simon but he immediately shuts down.

Simon: Imma head out, Garrick, need some food in me.

RandomPrettyGirl: How about I take you home and feed you good? Make you a nice roast, handsome.

Simon: Not interested. Got myself the perfect Shepherd's pie at home.

(And he leaves with a nod towards Kyle, leaving the woman stunned, but also Kyle himself. That's when it's speculated he finally understood.)

Price: What did you make there, sunshine? Smells delicious.

You: A pie. (You'd smirk at him as he leans over the counter, interested.) Not for you. This one has meat in it.

Price: Bloody hell, woman, I thought at this point you'd know I'd eat anything you make, even if it were off the floor.

You: Shame. Didn't make any for you. (You'd smile sweetly at him then giggle at seeing him deflate and be sad.) Oh, for the love of— John, go in your office, yours is already on a plate. (John then sprints and locks himself in his office. Indeed it was bloody fucking perfect.)

Or the many times Simon would be seen eating from the same lunch-box, a dark blue one with some intricate drawings on it, meanwhile someone spotted you in an episode sitting at your desk with a matching light blue one, same intricate designs on it too. The fandom was on fucking fire for that.

But what I truly believe is that Simon would just nonchalantly drop that you two are dating.

Anyone: What's your type?

Simon: My girlfriend.

Everyone: ??????

+

After hearing that, everyone (not really) started to speculate who this girlfriend is. It was mostly Johnny but Kyle was also curious, or more likely suspicious. The latter hasn't really caught Ghost with whom he suspected, and wanted confirmation too.

Johnny: (inspecting a crime scene, hopping over a dead body) Okay. Tall, red-head, always wears leather?

Simon: (rolls his eyes while scribbling in his note-book)

Johnny: (mutters butt-hurt how his good friend and Lt wouldn't trust him with the first woman he's ever mentioned)

(2 minute later)

Johnny: Alright! Is it someone I know?

Simon: (silently locking eyes with him, pausing what he does)

Johnny: (screetches) IT IS?! Wait. Is it— Ah, (dramatic pause, looking at the corpse) the wife murdered him.

Simon: Yes. (closes notebook and heads towards the door)

Johnny: Wait! Yes to what?

+

Kyle: (trying to act casual back at the station in front of a board filled with murder pictures and notes) So...

Simon: (ignores him while reading a document)

All he had to do was to say your name once and he got the Ghost looking at him straight into his soul, document in his hand forgotten. And it shows that Gaz had balls because he stared back into his eyes, big difference from the little shit he was at the beginning of series.

(2 minutes later)

RandomPoliceOfficer: Lieutenant Riley, sir? Someone is... asking for... what... is going on?

Cue to camera focusing on Simon and Kyle still having a staring contest.

+

Price: Good job today, boys.

Johnny: Night, Cap'.

Kyle: Evening, sir.

They both leave, bidding their goodbyes.

Simon: (curt nod towards his Captain)

Price: Tell the missus hello from me. (And of course, he has to smile amused at Simon, knowing what the others have been up to.)

Simon: Trying to get her to make you some food?

Price: Wouldn't kill, she's been starving me.

Simon: You're just mad I get to eat all of her food, that's it.

Price: Being cheeky towards your Captain? I could fire you right now, you know?

A rare moment of them chuckling alone before Simon also leaves the station to head home.

That was the begging of the end. Don't get me started with the ending. A whole episode dedicated to you two, one of the last of the whole series before the wrap-up. It all started the previous episode with Johnny getting a brick thrown at his window, startling him and his boyfriend up, only for him to realize the brick had a letter attached to it. After a whole moment of Johnny throwing tantrums in the whole department, in front of the whole team, and after a horrendous goose-chase that makes Johnny believe he has a stalker that has known him for years, sending him in specific crime scenes he's been at before (he's fucking loving it, we all know it), he finally finds an empty storage unit with a chair and a single card sitting on it. A wedding invitation. Simon's and your wedding.

And so it begins the next episode, with a small wedding and I don't even know what sort of minor but funny inconveniences they'd have, the wedding goes on, and both Show!Simon and Show!You kiss under a beautiful tree, just family and close friends there to applaud you.

What the public took some time to find out (as the news came out AFTER the ending) was that the actors, Simon and You, real you, married on that set too! The random props? Actual family and friends, plus the people on set. Only the director knew and was fully on board by then.

Seasons of seeing you two dumb lovebirds, kinda awkward giant introvert that froze anytime you were around and you, a dumbass with a giant crush that was obvious to everyone in your close vicinity, absolutely almost sicken everyone with how cute you were. The whole crushing gave the director the idea, and it solidified as years passed. It was going to be very subtle things (stuff that even Simon and you helped create) and it worked wonderfully. By the ending of the first season, you two were dating in real life, and by the end of the whole show, you surprised everyone after the final "Cut!" of the wedding episode (there's always a wedding episode, huh?) by telling everyone that you two are now officially married!

I hope I made you smile and if you have any other silly ideas about this AU, Imma be reading the comments!

Like Price and Nik being married, and Nik being a firefighter, leading to many jokes about it.

Kate would work as a lawyer or even a judge. ("My wife" expert.)

The station having a fat cat as a pet that lurks around and it once threw Simon's stuff on the floor. He then adopted a retired bomb-sniffing dog and brought her around every so often just to piss off the cat. (He has issues with literally anyone and anything, you CANNOT TELL ME he isn't a petty old man).

Johnny is hella smart but in an ADHD way. Man's a natural with defusing bombs too and I feel he'd carry this show.

Gaz is the puzzle guy, like genuinely smart-ass about it too. Also a true crime watcher. He's at home in a silk robe watching serial killer documentaries.

[kingdoms-edge]

Today being the last day of 3ds online has me feeling very nostalgic and wistful. I love the switch but it does not have the magic of the 3ds. It's not just about dual screens, it was the accessibility. It was less expensive, more portable, had more cheap games you could play with your friends, and a lot of people underestimate just how fantastic some 3ds games are. Streetpass alone was a phenomenon, and along with 3ds menu themes, illustrates a sort of magic that I feel nintendo has been losing sight of since the switch.

With the way games are going in the modern day (higher price tags and system reqs, tons of focus on AAA titles, people needing graphics to be absurdly good for no practical reason), I find myself latching onto my older games more and more. Sure, some of it is a nostalgia-tinted lens, memories from a happier and simpler time of life. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Even after the online services go down, I'll always be playing my 3ds until the hardware breaks to unusability and I can't find another one. I'll play locally with my friends whenever we can. I lament how things must change, but I go on anyway. Here's to my favorite console ever made, may it never really die.

[rileyslibrary]

I love your sense of humour and have cracked up at your stories multible times. Maby you can find some inspiration in this:

Price ordering the team to an etiquette training so they know how to behave in case they have to go under cover in a more "fancy" environment (or the upcoming mission may require something like this). I'm thinking about Ghosts "sausage fingers" from the origami bit on a delicate litte cake fork... Or him needing to *converse* with someone.

I think putting these hard soldiers in a situation that's out of their comfort zone is always a fun read!

Thank you for letting us enjoy your fantastic writing! <3

Be gentle, man!

Relationship: TF141 x F!Reader with a potential Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader (platonic?) on the horizon. Also there’s an OC in the story.

Word Count: 1,598 (approx. 7-8 min reading time)

Notes: I began writing this last night as a joke, and couldn’t stop. Thank you SO MUCH for inspiring me to do this, anon. It’s a crackfic btw. (There’s a part 2 now here)

———————————————————————

The training room feels out of place compared to its usual purpose. Bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the once-busy gym has been transformed into a classroom for an unlikely lesson—manners, of all things. Table manners, to be precise.

“Talk about Fitness Vs. Finesse,” Soap whispers, and you playfully nudge his side. The comment reaches Gaz’s ears, and he lets out a chuckle. Yet, Price’s death stare reclaims your attention and brings you back to focus.

You all sit around a long, polished mahogany table atop the gym’s boxing ring, admiring the delicate china and crystal glassware set before you. It reminds you of Aunt Claire’s preserved collection, which rarely leaves its cabinet. Lady Theodora, your etiquette instructor, assures you that each piece serves a purpose, and you will put them all to use. Every. Single. One of them.

Lady Theodora, the epitome of timeless confidence, moves gracefully around the table. Her silver hair is slicked back, framing a face that exudes years of wisdom and experience. Her Bordeaux-coloured shawl billows behind her as she glides, catching the gentle breeze her steps create. She pauses behind Price’s chair and reveals the reason behind today’s masterclass: an undercover operation.

“In the world of espionage, where appearances can mean the difference between life and death,” she says in a soft voice, “the art of etiquette becomes a weapon, a shield, and,” she concludes, resting her hand on Price’s shoulder, “your ticket to survival.”

“Bollocks.”

All eyes are drawn to the far end of the table, where a shadowy figure prefers to go unnoticed but isn’t afraid to express doubts. The only visible sign of life is a hand fidgeting with the butterknife.

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.” Lady Theodora says, and Ghost leans forward, revealing his unmasked—and visibly annoyed—face.

“We’re soldiers, not knights,” he claims. “Teaching us how to use all these,” he says, motioning to the various utensils before him, “is a waste of time, both yours and mine.”

Lady Theodora regards him gently as if looking at a child throwing a tantrum. She smiles and walks behind him, gripping the back of his chair.

“You seem quite certain of your own competence and doubtful of mine, Mr Riley,” she says, amused.

Ghost tilts his head to the side, partially facing her.

“With all due respect, Lady Theodora,” he replies, “I don’t believe you fully comprehend how such missions operate.”

Lady Theodora lets a light chuckle as she moves closer to Ghost’s face.

“My record of 25 confirmed kills, three of which were accomplished with a butterknife like the one in your hand, might suggest otherwise,” she admits. “Now, would you kindly move your seat forward, Lieutenant? I’ll show you how to act like a proper gentleman.”

Ghost’s Adam’s apple bobbles as he swallows hard. He returns the butterknife to its original position and pushes his chair forward with Lady Theodora’s help.

Gaz clears his throat and looks at Soap.

“Imagine her dinner parties,” he whispers so Price doesn’t hear him, “they must be perfectly executed.”

“Bet she makes a killer soufflé,” Soap whispers back.

You look at them and mutter, “You two are beyond help.” Unfortunately, it’s your own comment that catches Price’s attention this time, and he gives you a stern warning to behave.

“Let’s get started,” Lady Theodora says. “Projecting confidence and grace requires proper posture: sit up straight, shoulders back, and imagine a string pulling you upward from the crown of your head.”

You all adjust your posture, attempting to imitate Lady Theodora. Ghost used to a more relaxed posture, finds it difficult to maintain the required formality. His broad shoulders hunch forward, and he struggles to keep his legs straight.

“Excellent,” Lady Theodora remarks, catching Ghost’s struggle but choosing not to comment further. “Next, we shall delve into the art of dining. Each utensil on the table has a specific purpose, and it is essential to use them correctly.”

She points to the array of utensils laid out before you. Multiple forks, knives, and spoons of various sizes and shapes make the sight overwhelming.

“The outermost utensils are for the earlier courses, while the inner ones are for the later ones.” Lady Theodora says, “It’s like unwrapping a gift, one course at a time.”

You all nod and place the napkin on your lap to begin the process.

Ghost’s ingrained military habits take over when food is served, causing him to devour it quickly. He shovels forkfuls of food into his mouth without looking up and barely pausing to chew.

“Mr Riley,” Lady Theodora addresses Ghost, who shoots his head up to look at her. “I understand the military inclination to eat fast, but we must remember that the food isn’t going anywhere. Take your time, savour each bite, and enjoy your meal, please.”

“Sorry ’bout that.” Ghost mumbles with his mouth full.

Lady Theodora raises an eyebrow. “Mr Riley, it is impolite to speak with your mouth full,” she reminds him. “Please, swallow your food before continuing.”

Ghost swallows and clears his throat. “Apologies, Lady Theodora,” he mutters.

Lady Theodora smiles and nods at Ghost’s response. “Very well, Lieutenant Riley,” she says. “Remember, dining is about more than just the food; it’s also about the company and the experience.”

As the training continues, you witness Soap’s attempts to initiate a proper conversation, only to subconsciously bring up military strategies. Gaz, on the other hand, struggles with small talk and, when asked about his hobbies, blurts out his love of explosions.

“Kerosene is one hell of a—”

“No kerosene talk on the table, Sergeant,” Lady Theodora interrupts. “How about we talk about something more appropriate, like, for example, what did you do today?”

“You’re not going to like it.” He replies.

“Did it involve kerosene?” She asks and receives multiple excited nods from Gaz.

Ghost forgets about his napkin while using the finger bowl and instinctively flicks his hands to dry them. Droplets of water scatter across the table, and Lady Theodora steps forward with a calm smile. She retrieves his napkin and hands it to him. “Remember, Lieutenant,” she whispers, “the napkin is your ally.”

Throughout this ordeal, Price seems to be the only one who already has a natural fluidity in his movements. Like he already knows about etiquette.

You compliment his impeccable manners, but Lady Theodora intervenes before Price can respond.

“Oh, that’s because the Captain already received my services a few years ago,” she reveals, winking.

Price, caught off guard, coughs and sputters, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. After regaining his composure, he clears his throat and grins.

“Yes, well, Lady Theodora’s guidance has been, um, invaluable,” he manages to say and lowers his gaze to his plate. Gaz raises an eyebrow, and Soap gives a sly smile.

With the etiquette training completed, Price gracefully positions his utensils on his plate and folds his napkin. Lady Theodora hands him a file stack, which he distributes to you.

“These files contain detailed background information for your assigned roles,” he explains. “Study them carefully; familiarise yourselves with the personas you will embody, and don’t worry; with Lady Theodora’s help, you’ll have plenty of time to learn how to carry yourselves.”

He watches you all as you take hold of your respective files, scanning the pages and absorbing the details that will shape your performances.

“Gaz, within those pages, you’ll uncover the roadmap to shape your tech persona, along with essential contacts and valuable industry insights,” Price declares.

“A startup entrepreneur,” Gaz mutters and nods, “nice.”

“Soap,” Price continues, “your file contains the lineage and history of an alleged oil tycoon family; you’ll assume the identity of their sole son and heir to the business.”

“Why do I get the oil-moneyed spoiled brat?” Soap protests, “Gaz is the one obsessed with fossil fuel!”

Price looks at Lady Theodora, silently begging her to take the lead.

“Focus on embodying the demeanour of an heir, Sergeant MacTavish,” she comforts Soap. “Acquiring in-depth knowledge of the business is not a top priority now.”

Finally, Price shifts his focus to you and Ghost. His voice softens, and a smile appears on his lips.

“As for the two of you,” he says, “your assignment requires a convincing portrayal of a couple.”

You and Ghost exchange a brief look before returning your focus to the files in your hands.

“Laswell will provide you with a forged marriage certificate and photos of your alleged relationship,” Price continues. “The documents will serve as tangible proof if the need to validate your connection arises.”

“Any chance to let us know who or what we’re after?” Gaz asks, and Price shakes his head.

“Baby steps, Sergeant; we’re waiting for Laswell to give us more intel,” he explains, “but as far as we know, we’re dealing with people who can buy their way out of some very sketchy shit.”

“Language, Captain.” Lady Theodora reminds him.

“Please accept my sincere apologies, Theodora,” he says and turns to Gaz. “I meant sketchy things, Sergeant.”

As they continue discussing the mission, your mind wanders on the latest information. Ghost’s partner? How? You look at the file and then back at Ghost. You see Lady Theodora walking behind Ghost’s chair and leaning close to his ear. She looks at you and whispers to him.

“I told you, Lieutenant,” she says, “I’ll mould you into a proper gentleman.”

Ghost turns to face you as well. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Lady Theodora,” he replies.

But Lady Theodora smiles and touches his shoulder, “Oh, you’ll see, Mr Riley—you’re my gift to unwrap, one course at a time.”

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

[storm-angel989]

Fix it, Vox. (Valentino x Daughter)

SHOUT OUT TO absolut3lyn0t  for all the help with the Spanish and for being a FANTASTIC human in general. You are AMAZING!

The weight of her body jolted him awake. A tiny head against his chest, and muffled tears. The bright red clock flashed on his nightstand. Three thirty. He had literally gotten to bed less than a half hour ago. He tried to ignore the aching in his head as he struggled to talk to the sobbing child. 

“Beibita, what’s the matter?” He mumbled as he wrapped his arms around the crying toddler. “Shush. Papi is here, niñita. Vuelve a dormir.”

“Papi, will the angels come and get me?” She choked out. “Daddy, I’m scared. I don’t wanna get ex..er…”

Now he had her full attention. ¿De que ella habla? What was she talking about?

“Princessa, no one is going to take you away. Who told you that?” He asked, trying to mask the fury in his voice. “Papi is here, bebita. Shush.” He rocked her as gently as he could as he tried to bite back his exhaustion.

Of all the weekends for her mother to go out of town. 

“The tv said so, I heard it! I…I…” She sobbed. 

God fucking damn it. He told that son of a bitch. He told him his daughter wasn’t asleep. He warned him not to change the channel for another half hour until they could be sure she was safe and sound in bed and not about to try to sneak out to curl up with them or try to con him into letting her watch just one more episode. After all, she did it every single night. But no, Vox  insisted he put on the news right away. He insisted it would be fine. And now here Valentino was, paying the goddamn price. 

“Shush. Papi won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” He said softly as he sat up. “Come on, bebita. Papi will make you a warm bottle and you can sleep with me, okay, pequeño amor?.”

She cuddled closer into his chest and he lifted her up effortlessly. He carried her cradled against him to the kitchen. With one arm supporting the weight of his daughter, the other carefully warmed up a bottle of milk and flicked it on his wrist before trying to hand it to the toddler. 

“Drink up, mi amore.” 

She refused to take it. “I want Mommy! “And Uncie and Auntie! The angels are gonna get them! Papi, we have to do something!” She burst into another round of tears.

God fucking damn it, Vox. He silently cursed as he set the bottle off to the side and tried to sooth the hysterical toddler. “Mommy will be back tomorrow night, shush,” he replied softly as he bounced her soothing

He looked at the clock. Four am. There was a good chance Vox was up and in his office. A twinge of anger made its way through Valentino. If Vox was awake, it was only fair that he helped clean up the mess he made. 

“Let’s go see if Uncie Voxxy is awake, alright mi amore? Your mommy will be home tomorrow and Auntie Velvette is sleeping.” He shifted her weight and pressed the bottle to her lips, willing her to take it. A full tummy was the key to getting her to sleep- he learned that when she was first born. “Come on, bebita.”

She refused and he sighed in frustration. He nabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and walked towards the elevator, hoping that by the time they got to Vox’s office she would have at least settled down. 

No such luck. 

The sound of a crying, screaming baby tested every single bit of Valentino's last nerve. Even if it was his daughter, and he loved her with every single beat of his heart, he was absolutely at his wits end.  There was no reason for her to be this afraid; it was absolutely uncalled for. Vox should have listened and then maybe, just maybe he would still be asleep. By the time he walked into Vox’s office, every single part of him struggled to maintain control. He stormed from the elevator and stomped over the shark tanks. 

“You broke it, you fix it,” he growled as he tried to hand reader over to Vox. “I told you not to put on the news. I told you she wasn’t asleep yet, and now look!” 

The anger in her fathers voice only triggered more tears. Desperately she clung to Valentino’s neck and dug her hands into his shirt. “Daddy!” 

Valentino put a protective hand on her back and glared at Vox. 

Vox was up on his feet in a matter of moments. “Woah. Alright, take a breath Val. What happened?” His eye began to swirl. “Babygirl, why are we crying? Come here, Val. Take my spot. Sit down. Breathe. You relax. She’ll relax.” He took the bottle from Valentino’s hand and set it off to the side. 

“The angels are gonna get us,” Reader sobbed into Valentino’s shoulder. “I saw it on TV!”

Valentino shot Vox a look and guilt spread across Vox’s features. 

“Shit. I mean, fuck. Sweetie. Baby. It wasn’t real, I promise. It was a story. Like..” he struggled for a moment and then his expression lit up. “Like a bedtime story your Daddy tells you. It was just a scary story, it’s not real. I promise. Now come to Uncle Voxxy, let me hold you sweetie.” 

She reached up to him and Vox wrapped her in his hold as he rocked her. She heaved a hiccup and Vox gently tilted her head up to meet his eye. “Who controls the television, my sweet baby girl?”

 “Uncle Voxxy….” she answered tearily. 

“Right, sweetheart. So wouldn’t I know best?” He asked as he stroked her hair. “Uncle Voxxy, and Daddy and Mommy and Auntie Vel won’t let anything happen. I promise babydoll.” He picked up the still warm bottle and guided it to her mouth. 

She sucked on it gently as he continued to rock her. Carefully, Vox handed her back to Valentino. Valentino carefully laid her head over his heart as Vox wrapped her in the blanket. 

“Duerme bebe niña papá está aquí,”  he said softly. “You’re safe, we’re safe, it's okay.”

To both their relief, she fell asleep almost instantly, soothed by the beating of Valentino’s heart, a full tummy, and the feeling of security. Vox caught the bottle as it fell out of her hands and set it on the desk.

“Are you okay Val?” Vox asked softly. “You look like shit.” 

“I’m exhausted, Vox. I went to bed like thirty minutes before this all began,” he replied tiredly. “I need you or Vel to watch her this morning- I’m begging you.”

“Just call me when she wakes up,” Vox replied quickly. “Or you can give her to me now. I can work with her in my arms.” 

“No, I can take her for a few hours…”

“Nonsense. Give me the baby. Take a breath. And get some sleep.” Carefully, Vox lifted the bundle to his own chest and laid her head carefully against his heart. “She won’t wake up now that she’s out. Go get some rest, Val. When you wake up you can take her back.”

Grateful, and with one last kiss on his sleeping daughter's forehead, Valentino made his way back upstairs. In his control room, Vox adjusted the little girl against his body as little as he possibly could. Guilt washed over him as he worked. Valentino had warned him she wasn’t asleep. It was his own fault for scaring her so badly, and for his friend to be pushed beyond the point of exhaustion. 

“I’m so sorry I scared you. It won’t happen again,” he said quietly to the sleeping toddler. He kissed her on the forehead. “And I promise we will always keep you safe.”

Against him, she snuggled closer and he leaned back in his chair as he held the sleeping toddler. He closed his eyes for a moment and let out an exhale. To his surprise, she did the same. He felt something stir deep in his chest. Love. Protectiveness. The desire to never let this sweet little girl feel afraid again. 

“You’re safe, babygirl,” he whispered as he held her carefully. “I promise.”

[porterdavis]

A great long read from Tom Nichols of The Atlantic:

“Democrats and liberal pundits are already trying to figure out how the Trump campaign not only bested Kamala Harris in the “Blue Wall” states of the Midwest and the Rust Belt, but gained on her even in areas that should have been safe for a Democrat. Almost everywhere, Donald Trump expanded his coalition, and this time, unlike in 2016, he didn’t have to thread the needle of the Electoral College to win: He can claim the legitimacy of winning the popular vote.

Trump’s opponents are now muttering about the choice of Tim Walz, the influence of the Russians, the role of the right-wing media, and whether President Joe Biden should not have stepped aside in favor of Harris. Even the old saw about “economic anxiety” is making a comeback.

These explanations all have some merit, but mostly, they miss the point. Yes, some voters still stubbornly believe that presidents magically control the price of basic goods. Others have genuine concerns about immigration and gave in to Trump’s booming call of fascism and nativism. And some of them were just never going to vote for a woman, much less a Black woman.

But in the end, a majority of American voters chose Trump because they wanted what he was selling: a nonstop reality show of rage and resentment. Some Democrats, still gripped by the lure of wonkery, continue to scratch their heads over which policy proposals might have unlocked more votes, but that was always a mug’s game. Trump voters never cared about policies, and he rarely gave them any. (Choosing to be eaten by a shark rather than electrocuted might be a personal preference, but it’s not a policy.) His rallies involved long rants about the way he’s been treated, like a giant therapy session or a huge family gathering around a bellowing, impaired grandpa.

Back in 2021, I wrote a book about the rise of “illiberal populism,” the self-destructive tendency in some nations that leads people to participate in democratic institutions such as voting while being hostile to democracy itself, casting ballots primarily to punish other people and to curtail everyone’s rights—even their own. These movements are sometimes led by fantastically wealthy faux populists who hoodwink gullible voters by promising to solve a litany of problems that always seem to involve money, immigrants, and minorities. The appeals from these charlatans resonate most not among the very poor, but among a bored, relatively well-off middle class, usually those who are deeply uncomfortable with racial and demographic changes in their own countries.

And so it came to pass: Last night, a gaggle of millionaires and billionaires grinned and applauded for Trump. They were part of an alliance with the very people another Trump term would hurt—the young, minorities, and working families among them.

Trump, as he has shown repeatedly over the years, couldn’t care less about any of these groups. He ran for office to seize control of the apparatus of government and to evade judicial accountability for his previous actions as president. Once he is safe, he will embark on the other project he seems to truly care about: the destruction of the rule of law and any other impediments to enlarging his power.

Americans who wish to stop Trump in this assault on the American constitutional order, then, should get it out of their heads that this election could have been won if only a better candidate had made a better pitch to a few thousand people in Pennsylvania. Biden, too old and tired to mount a proper campaign, likely would have lost worse than Harris; more to the point, there was nothing even a more invigorated Biden or a less, you know, female alternative could have offered. Racial grievances, dissatisfaction with life’s travails (including substance addiction and lack of education), and resentment toward the villainous elites in faraway cities cannot be placated by housing policy or interest-rate cuts.

No candidate can reason about facts and policies with voters who have no real interest in such things. They like the promises of social revenge that flow from Trump, the tough-guy rhetoric, the simplistic “I will fix it” solutions. And he’s interesting to them, because he supports and encourages their conspiracist beliefs. (I knew Harris was in trouble when I was in Pennsylvania last week for an event and a fairly well-off business owner, who was an ardent Trump supporter, told me that Michelle Obama had conspired with the Canadians to change the state’s vote tally in 2020. And that wasn’t even the weirdest part of the conversation.)

As Jonathan Last, editor of The Bulwark, put it in a social-media post last night: The election went the way it did “because America wanted Trump. That’s it. People reaching to construct [policy] alibis for the public because they don’t want to grapple with this are whistling past the graveyard.” Last worries that we might now be in a transition to authoritarianism of the kind Russia went through in the 1990s, but I visited Russia often in those days, and much of the Russian democratic implosion was driven by genuinely brutal economic conditions and the rapid collapse of basic public services. Americans have done this to themselves during a time of peace, prosperity, and astonishingly high living standards. An affluent society that thinks it is living in a hellscape is ripe for gulling by dictators who are willing to play along with such delusions.

The bright spot in all this is that Trump and his coterie must now govern. The last time around, Trump was surrounded by a small group of moderately competent people, and these adults basically put baby bumpers and pool noodles on all the sharp edges of government. This time, Trump will rule with greater power but fewer excuses, and he—and his voters—will have to own the messes and outrages he is already planning to create.

Those voters expect that Trump will hurt others and not them. They will likely be unpleasantly surprised, much as they were in Trump’s first term. (He was, after all, voted out of office for a reason.) For the moment, some number of them have memory-holed that experience and are pretending that his vicious attacks on other Americans are just so much hot air.

Trump, unfortunately, means most of what he says. In this election, he has triggered the unfocused ire and unfounded grievances of millions of voters. Soon we will learn whether he can still trigger their decency—if there is any to be found.