#foreplan

[indelicateink]

TV Guide, 23 June 2024

The whole article is great. want those other revisits they didn't do!!

[dirt-str1der]

Yaoi has poisoned all of your fucking brains !!

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

The Marali Festival Commentary Part 2

Alright, the next 3 chapters! Honestly, I think it’s fair to say these might be my favorite 3 chapters... 👀 But more on that below!

**SPOILERS FOR THIS FIC BELOW**

Chapter 4- Hug

Dwalin took his place next to Thorin, silently holding the same position as the king.

“I have a plan.” He finally explained.

Dwalin chuckled. “I would hope so. Mahal knows we’ve all been waiting for one of you to do something.”

This was supposed to make people still think that Thorin wrote the note, but I don’t think any of my readers were actually buying it.😂

Thorin had already been placed in the first position and was almost pleading with Mahal for who would be number sixteen. His prayers were answered and he met Heor’s glare with a challenging grin.

Let’s call this chapter the “what-if Thorin got to fight Heor in Guardian of Kings instead”. I don’t think it was nearly as good a battle scene as it was with Bilbo, but I had more time to work with on GOK. 

Thorin immediately took to the center ring as soon as he was summoned. His head held high and his shoulders pulled back. Heor met him stride for stride.

“Been awhile, Thorin.” He smirked.

The disrespect.😒 You know, with this particular OC, he was always supposed to come off as ‘the asshole’ but not necessarily the villain. That definitely didn’t happen in this fic. 

“Heard that before. Although that is a lovely trinket. Did you get that from your hobbit courtesan?”

Thorin’s nostrils flared, and he had Heor shoved three feet away before he even had time to think.

The lesson here: don’t call Bilbo a whore to Thorin’s face.

The blade cut straight up his sternum (would have sliced open his neck) had the chain carrying the acorn button not snagged it. The metal snapped, Thorin hit the dirt, and there was a plethora of guards restraining Heor. Dwalin at the forefront. Thorin lay there as blood ran down his chest in amazement that once again, the hobbit had inadvertently saved his life.

I liked the symbolism here of the ‘acorn’ always saving Thorin and him tying that directly with Bilbo. It was just a nice little parallel.

Something in the hobbit suddenly snapped, and before Thorin knew it, he had Bilbo pressed tightly against him, sobbing into his chest, his arms encircling as much of his body as he could. Thorin felt pained at the memories that still haunted his hobbit, but he returned the hug as best as he could murmuring softly all the way.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Everything is fine.”

If I remember correctly (this was a year ago after all), I think my initial plan had this hug being a lot more light-hearted, but the moment I brought Heor into it I was like WAIT I CAN MAKE THIS HURT. Did I have a plan to explain how exactly Thorin survived BOTFA? Not exactly.😆 Everyone just got to use their imaginations as I referenced it.

Chapter 5- Harmless Flirting

I feel like I should preface this chapter by saying as someone who is a terrible flirt, I really worried about this prompt...

When asked why the king himself did not choose to show off the merit of his skill, Thorin became surprisingly tight-lipped.

FORESHADOWING! 👀 I either already had @stardryad-random​‘s commission at this point, or she had sent me updates so I was pretty sold on the metallic bouquet at the end.😂

“How about you try and guess. If hobbits had a seven day passion festival, what would we feature?”

Thorin smirked at the challenge. “And what do I get if I win?”

“Whatever you want.” Bilbo breathed almost before his mind could catch up.

Does this count as flirting? Because I’m not so sure it’s harmless at this point.😆

“That’s six.” Bilbo agreed.

They walked in silence for a while. Thorin clearly lost in thought while Bilbo pretended to be impressed by a particularly hefty stone-hewed bookshelf they passed.

Writer Thoughts: What in the hell can be a seventh hobbit ‘passion’? Think, Sunny, think...

“You’re right that dwarves take their crafts to a much more serious level than any hobbit, but if you’ve ever been to a harvest festival…there are contests for nearly everything! Sure the farmers are showing off their prized vegetables and livestock. But oh, there’s so many different contests just for eating! Pie-eating contests, pudding, fudge…and of course lots of games and activities for the faunts. My cousins on my mother’s side that I was particularly close with and I would make the most handsome paper boat. The object being to see it safely down the Brandywine to the finish line, and it would always sink just beforehand. Siggy would get in such a tiff over it. Then there’s beautiful handcrafts that are up for judging too! Hand knitted blankets, prized family recipes, gorgeous wreaths for your door. No, hobbits don’t have crafts persay, but I would think we would have a day just for being passionate…about life, I suppose.”

Good job, Sunny. Self-five. As someone who grew up in a small, rural area, this was 100% based on our county fairs. I won showmanship with my sheep, and my homemade wreaths usually won 3rd place.😏

“Well I suppose I lost our little game, so I feel it only fair to turn the prize to the victor. Ask what you will of me, and I will see it done.”

“Be my escort tomorrow?” Bilbo blurted, catching Thorin off-guard. “I just…today was so lovely. And I thought if you didn’t have anything else…But then you are the king! Of course you would have better plans than to escort…”

Thorin cut him off with a gentle whiskery kiss to his hand.

“It would be my honor.”

So it was actually a little before this chapter that I knew I had messed up. But to be fair, I only had up to Chapter 4 written before I started posting. If you guys actually look at my tumblr post for the first chapter, you will notice the next chapter was supposed to be ‘Dance’. I realized about halfway through this chapter though that I had this idea of Thorin and Bilbo seeing the opera before going to the dance. So he would need an escort for that...

Chapter 6- Be My Escort

So on the original prompt list I borrowed from, it had ‘Movie Night’. I decided to replace that with the Middle Earth equivalent: play/live theater, but named it “Be My Escort”. 

There was a shift in their relationship that has happened recently that Thorin didn’t feel entirely prepared for. Perhaps, he should have been. Perhaps, this was just logically the next step. However, he found himself concerned for Bilbo’s image. The ‘courtesan’ comment made by Heor has sat ill with him, even though the vile vermin was sitting comfortably in a cell right now.

Does anyone else HC Thorin as somebody who has to have a plan and stick to it? Maybe it’s his stubborn nature, but I always imagine Thorin freaking out if anything deviates from the way he saw things working out. This plays into his ‘freak out’ in the next chapter. 

Bilbo had indeed dressed for the occasion. He wore one of his hobbit button-downs and nicer knee length dark slacks, but over that was a dwarven tunic of Durin blue with golden trim and a golden belt around his waist. However, Thorin felt his eyes drift to the hobbits chest where in the gap of the vest, he could see the mithril glittering brightly.

FUNNY STORY! I was complaining to @lordoftherazzles​ that I didn’t know how I wanted Bilbo’s outfit to look, and then sent her down a rabbit hole for a reference pic just for these few sentences of description.😅 Thank you Razzy!! Your efforts were well appreciated.

There was once a point when Thorin was still quite young and naively believing that Erebor would always belong to him, that wanted to forgo any notion of kingship in favor of an operatic career. Before puberty dropped him into a deep bass, his range had been wide and high, and he had been mesmerized by the players on the stage utilizing such gifts for storytelling. Thorin’s grandmother probably would have been the first dwarf in his corner had he ever brought it up. She had always been rather adoring on him and his vocal talents. Alas, life did not turn out the way he wanted nor ever envisioned.

Is this not the cutest headcanon for a young prince Thorin? More on this later this week... 👀

“I didn’t mean to offend.” Bilbo stated quietly.

“You didn’t.”

However, even Thorin recognized the waspish tone in his quick answer.

More evidence of Thorin being needled by things not going his way. It will blow up on him soon. You’ll have to wait til tomorrow though for me to talk about it.😏

[bmpmp3]

There really has been nothing quite like smackjeeves collab comic system since. What if a webcomic was a MEP

[floralkittygambler]

Spindlehorse is probably bleeding money, holy shit. Did they have to go ahead and get one of the guys from The Walking Dead as well? Exclamations aside, season 2 is not gonna be happening for a while if they keep budgeting like this.

sorry its late

You were pretty much correct. Especially as Striker has a new VA and S2 has had even more release delays. As much as I can genuinely admire the grand ambition, they have absolutely no realism in handling it nor the foresight to achieve stuff efficiently. Its a joke of a business and a start up precautionary tale.

They couldve greatly pioneered indie productions. And they've failed at many corners. Tragic really.

[bytedykes]

wore my thick sweater today on the assumption it would be cold in the building but i just got to class and it's really warm :(

[mojoworlddotcom]

Been reading impulse from his first appearance and the narration, mostly wallys says that bart has no concept of danger from his vr childhood but there hasn't been much if any insight in barts own thoughts on this. Like for all I know this could be wally being bitter about having an unwanted overly-reckless protege

[akutasoda]

i would like to request a luocha, jing yuan, and sunday with a reader that’s the complete opposite of them, like opposites attract sakndmalsow i love luocha :3 hope ur having a nice day ^_^

attraction on the contrary

synopsis - how are they with someone who is a complete opposite

includes - jing yuan, luocha, sunday

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, maybe ooc, wc - 621

a/n: anon you're so real for loving luocha. i hope you're having a nice day/night aswell!!

jing yuan ★↷

↪jing yuan was often found dozing off anywhere, seemingly having zero energy to get through the day. yet you seemed to be absolutely full of energy that appeared to never wain even in the slightest throughout the day.

↪you'd could be observed dragging the tired general throughout the luofu in search of whatever you wanted to do. he never complained and always obliged with a dumb smile on his face.

↪ it was known that he was often meticulous and often foreplanning, however you were much more careless and impulsive. but he enjoyed how spontaneous you were, it added a certain excitement to his life which he welcomed.

↪those that often gossiped about the love lives on the luofu, often speculated about the generals choice in partner but barely any of them could think that you would be the one that stole his heart. yet somehow you balanced each other out perfectly.

↪perhaps it was best that the general found someone who was his polar opposite, maybe it was like you two were the missing pieces of the others life.

luocha ★↷

↪the reserved and seemingly always calm traveling merchant had always kept his relations with others to a limit. he'd always move places often and so they seemed rather pointless unless it was a relationship more tailored to the business side of his life.

↪however, he didn't anticipate building a relationship with you. someone who was practically the complete opposite to everything about him. yet now that he knew you, he couldn't imagine ever splitting ways with you ever.

↪you were extremely sentimental and he always helped you collect trinkets from each place you two visited. you were much more open about things in your life whereas luocha often kept tight-lipped about himself, unless it was to you.

↪he actually found that your more natural outgoing nature attracted quite a bit more customers who became more intrigued in the two of you than the merchant's actual gig.

↪you added a much more enjoyable side to traveling throughout the cosmos, he realized now that traveling alongside someone was a great idea. although maybe that was because it was you.

sunday ★↷

↪the head of the oak family was very well known for being rather particulate. he preferred things a certain way and had the tendency to be a tad controlling. he held his image high and was intent on keeping it like that.

↪yet there was you, someone who wasn't particular and could be quite spontaneous. you were much more openly expressive than your more reserved lover. dignity belonged to both of you, but you were more willing to indulge yourself.

↪your naivety would've annoyed him, yet sometimes he found it rather adorable. however if someone dare try to take advantage of it, then he wouldn't mind pulling a few strings and all of a sudden nobody saw them again.

↪sunday didn't exactly imagine that he'd let himself allow someone like you into his life, yet here you were. you two had such different public images yet worked so well together that it practically seemed impossible.

↪if it were anyone else, he'd be annoyed at all the things that made you the complete opposite of him. but it wasn't anyone else, it was you. you were practically the opposite of him and yet he couldn't help but find himself in love with every part of you.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[iepurasdepraf]

Lights Out Pt. 2 - Enjoy

"The elaborate branching structure of the dendritic tree allows a neuron to receive inputs from the other neurons through synaptic connections. The cortical pyramidal neuron of figure one point one A and the cortical interneuron of figure one point one C each receive thousands of synaptic inputs, and for the cerebellar Purkinje cell of figure one point one B the number is over one hundred thousand. Figure one point one does not show the full extent of the axons of these neurons-" 

You had to blink. Hard. Had he breathed in the last thirty minutes? You weren't sure. You weren't sure if you had either. 

Initially, you'd managed to understand what he was talking about, but over time that had slowly waned and been overtaken by a sea of information that just kept rising. It started bleeding together in your head and your eyes were burning from squinting at his cracked phone screen where he was showing the arithmetic and diagrams. You’d gotten at best a D or C in math. You couldn’t remember anymore, but you’d passed. That said, you certainly weren’t built for this. 

“The electrical signal of relevance to the nervous system is the difference in electrical potential between the interior of a neuron and the surrounding extracellular medium-”

Not wanting to be rude since he was paying for your time, you raised your hand and were quickly called upon by your impromptu professor with nothing, but delighted glee on his face that you were even listening “Yes!?” "Whereabouts in this presentation are we?" "We're just about through the first half." "The first half?" Dear God in Heaven. 

His nose scrunched up a little exposing his buckteeth even more, he must have caught on that he was frying your brain in its pan. Maybe he found it funny. "How many parts are there?" You asked, trying your hardest to sound amused and not tired. "Five! Well, five and a, ah... sort of post note." You laughed a little restlessly and sat up on the sofa. Legs long having gone numb from being in one position for so long. 

He held up his flashcards, smudged as they were from his sweaty hands. "I felt like I needed at least eight parts to fully explain, but I ran out of cards." "Why not buy more cards?" His hand lowered as he thought about it "I- Well, I suppose I... didn't want to admit my poor foreplanning?" You press your fingers to your eyes for some relief. It didn’t help and that didn't make sense, but nothing had since he stopped stuttering. Sure, the words were coming out now, but that didn’t mean they made sense even with his extensive explanation. If anything it was making it worse.

Your hands fell to your lap as you asked “Who are you giving this presentation to, Jervis?” He turned red when you said his first name. You could tell it was that by the way his eyes fluttered. It was like every now and then he remembered you were a pretty lady giving him the time of day and it staggered him a little. “The-The board. Well, I- let me explain.” He sat on the edge of the small stage you’d made him stand on when he started this whole thing. “I don’t do things like this, you see. I’m a lab rat through and through. I haven’t given a-any kind of presentation since I defended my thesis for my doctorate.” 

There was something wrong with you. That was actually impressive and you nearly asked what his thesis was about, but you also wanted to go home before five. “I work for Wayne Enterprises and normally I’m kept down in the basements- they keep all the non-theoretical work in the basements for security reasons... I shouldn’t have told you that.” He laughed his anxiety spike off in a concerningly manic way again and all you could think to do was nod in response, nearly used to it at this point. That or you were so tired you were just accepting it for the sake of what was left of your mental bandwidth. “Recently, I don’t know why for certain, but they’re- Oh, how did Dr. Kates put it? Doing an internal audit of ongoing research to access security, costs, and productivity. I suspect someone was caught misusing grant money or they suspect someone is.”

“Is someone?” “Heavens no!” He dismisses the very idea with a flick of his wrist. An oddly elegant gesture for someone so tense, but that was likely the liquor in him. “They barely give us enough to keep the power on in the labs. If someone was doing that the flickering lights would have surely let us know long before accounting noticed.” Jervis rolls his eyes grumbling, “Useless things they are. Still haven’t approved of my new slides.” He was getting distracted so you lean forward to get his attention. “Why would them thinking someone’s stealing money have you doing a presentation?” 

He blinks like a toad, eyes unable to settle on just one part of you until he registers you are looking at him and you know that so he looks away instead, fumbling with his cards to try to get his train of thoughts back on the rails. He didn’t succeed right away. “I…They-well, they- um…Hm.” Jervis clears his throat “T-t-to prove I am making progress.” Your head tilts slightly to the side “Would they be able to tell?” “What?” Your simple question seems to knock him out of his self conscious stupor. “Well, you’ve written a really detailed presentation, but are the people you’re going to be presenting it to, will they understand what you’re saying and showing them? Are they scientists too? It sounds more like it’s going to be to a committee.” 

“They… are not scientists.” You saw the cold realization washed over him. They’d have no idea what he was talking about and the way he looked at you nearly made you feel guilty. All that work and they’d never understand it. Christ, that was brutal. It nearly made you feel bad for not getting it either. He was clearly onto something he desperately wanted to share, but it was like he couldn't simplify his ideas enough to explain what they were to anyone with a room temperature IQ.

You bounced your leg trying to think up a solution even though you still weren’t entirely sure why you gave a shit. You should just get up and go home. Tell him it’s late and you have to get some sleep. But no, you sat there puzzling trying to help this total stranger. You stood up, unable to sit anymore. The digging drive to pace while you thought winning out as it usually did so back and forth in front of the despondent scientist you went. “Ok, we can figure this out.” You assured, sounding more confident then you actually were. “You’re smart. I’m…well, I’m smart too. Just… not as smart.” You laughed, but he looked like a kicked puppy. Maybe you were the only smart one right now. 

You told yourself that was fine while you gnawed on your thumb nail. Chipping the black fingernail polish off with your front teeth. You were so tired. Your eyes hurt, your back hurt, your legs hurt, and you smelled like a sweaty ashtray full of cheap beer. You weren’t getting anywhere with this tonight. “When are you giving your presentation?” “Next week. Tuesday of next week.” It was only Monday, well, Tuesday now. You had time. 

“I’ll tell you what,” You turned to him with a clap of your hands that made him jolt to attention. “We’ll keep working on this. We’ll figure this out, but not tonight. I have to work today, but after that I’m free until Friday. Meet me here after work and I'll give you your money’s worth.” You winked at him “I owe you for what you paid me for, don’t worry. You still have,” after checking your watch you confirmed “Two hours and forty five minutes.” 

Jervis stood up, only coming up to the very bottom of your ribs “You promise?!” What a pathetically endearing man. “Promise.” You presented your pinky finger and he gasped like you’d presented you with a diamond ring, but he puffed himself up and raised his own pinky to interlock with yours. “Pinky promise, Dr. Tetch.” “I-I- Hehehe-” He wriggled like a worm on a hook. Turning red as the perfect shade of lipstick making the pale dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks stand out. “I’ve never- ah… No one’s ever pinky promised me anything. Jolly good.” 

You couldn’t help, but snort. With a shake of your hands the pact was made.

[allamericanbisexual]

I'm so sorry guys but all these conspiracy theories involving various dates...they probably wouldn't do that. We likely remember more about their lives at this point than they do lol

I think its more dnp coded to accidentally drop something on a significant date with 0 foreplanning and have everyone freak out while they are blindingly oblivious

[eruukat-art]

butch4butch jackshep :) my shep uses she/her pronouns

first pic is jack helping shep shave her hair.. the small note reads “weird layers.. jack’ll fix it”. pic with just shep says “did lots of exercises targetting muscles 2 emphasize pecs -> more masc looking chest w/o top surgery!” and pic with just jack says “open binds, w/ help of harness”.

i did these in an effort to start digitally sketching more often instead of reserving digital art for pieces with a shitton of rendering + foreplanning. its weird to see my art in the brushes i used like 3 years ago

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Eleven.

Huge thanks as always to my little devoted audience! This chapter brings us into part two of the story, aptly entitled Siege. You'll soon see why.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,564

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

After such an idyllic start to married life, absconded to the privacy of their upstate home, reality had to hit eventually. When it did, it took them both by surprise, just how invested the media had become in the details of their whirlwind romance and marriage.  

They’d thought they might’ve gotten away with it, but in the age of every single cell phone across the world now coming equipped with a camera, privacy was no longer guaranteed. Theirs had been sold to a major publication from a passerby who’d witnessed them leaving city hall hand in hand, very obviously having just gotten married. 

It wasn’t the way they’d wanted their families to find out, but sadly, it had been. While they’d been busy enjoying their first day together as husband and wife, ignoring their phones, the news had blown up all over the internet. 

Their missed calls lists were extensive.  

“I guess it had to catch up with us eventually, baby,” Jade spoke, wrapping her arm around his waist as she towel dried her hair, all bath fresh. Bath fresh and blissed out, after being treated to sub-aqua orgasms in the huge tub courtesy of her husband.  

He nodded, placing a kiss atop her head. “Family first, then publicists. I’m advising no comment, because it isn’t anybody’s business but ours. I’ll talk about my marriage in my own time or not at all.” 

While he wandered outside, Jade took a seat on the couch in the vast kitchen, the only place downstairs that was inhabitable enough to do so, ready to call her parents. As soon as she heard her mother, it had stung her heart, Gemma very upset not to have been notified that her eldest was to be married, having to pass Jade over to her father while she had a little cry. 

“You’ve driven mommy in the direction of the wine,” he chimed, Jade closing her eyes and groaning. 

“I guessed as much,” she winced, sighing. “I’m so sorry, dad. The last thing I wanted was for you guys to be upset.” God, how he knew that. At her core, his daughter was nothing but kind, hating to think she was the cause of somebody else’s pain. 

“To be brutally honest, kid, I can’t say I blame you,” he began while taking a seat in his favourite armchair, tired beyond words after a performing a lengthy coronary bypass procedure earlier that day. “If it had been foreplaned, something along the chain of all the preparation that goes into a wedding likely would have been leaked, you’d have ended up being hounded by paparazzi, and it would have spoiled your day. Remember back when Madonna married Sean Penn? Those poor kids had choppers flying overhead during the ceremony, trying to get pictures. Absolute circus.”  

She’d have been lying if she’d said it hadn’t entered her head, that their decision to marry at a moment’s notice didn’t come with the added advantage of extreme privacy, with nobody but themselves and the lovely city hall staff knowing. Not that it had lasted too long, though.  

“Yeah, it had that advantage. I hate that mum is upset now though. We ran that risk, not telling anyone, but if we had of told people then it would have snowballed, telling the parents, and then I’d have wanted to have told Jen, Adrien his buddy Lewis, too. Kind of better keeping it simple, innit?” 

“I hear you, monkey. I do.” Monkey. He’d called her that ever since she’d learned to walk, and subsequently climb. She’d spent a good sixty percent of her childhood scaling the trees in their local park back in London. “Don’t worry about mommy, I’ll talk her down. Listen, it isn’t like you can’t do something in the future too, have a little ceremony for the families and all your friends.” 

“Yes, we said we wanted to do that eventually, when our schedules calm down.” 

Steven hummed a soft laugh. “So, I can expect an invitation in around twenty thirteen, then?”  

While Jade had chatted with her dad a little longer, Adrien had a much more successful reaction from his mother, thankfully. Lois had been nothing but thrilled, telling him it was beautiful and insane, but that she was very happy for them. Patrick had a few of his own thoughts, too.  

“Now, who are you, and what have you done with my sensible, level-headed son, hmm?” he asked, sounded mildly entertained. “Running off with rockstars and getting hitched. Are you a super groupie now, son? Is this where we’re at? Pamela Des Barres will be interviewing you for her next book, I feel.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Patrick threw his head back, booming a laugh. “Oh, now, now. There will be less of that hostility, my boy.” Taking a seat in his lounge (they had two, one his and one Lois’s) he reached for his gin, resting his feet up on the coffee table. “Was there a specific reason to the speed of this? Inquiring minds wish to know.”  

“When you know, you know,” he shrugged, his bare feet hitting the grass as he walked from the patio steps out onto the lawn. “It just felt right.” 

His father smiled, adjusting his glasses. “I trust your intuition, son. I must say, in lieu of actually meeting the woman for myself, I have endeavoured to become acquainted with her. She is a truly fascinating juxtapose, from what I have garnered while watching her on stage and being interviewed. Jade is both the storm and the eye, a truly unique individual.” 

It never failed to impress him, just how perceptive his father was, with how astute he’d always been at reading people. “She is, yeah. You’re right. I can’t wait for you to meet her.” 

“I too look forward to this, very much so. If you two are free this weekend, perhaps your mother and I could venture up?” he suggested, picking at the label on the side of a new book he’d purchased earlier that day.  

“Can’t, I’m afraid,” he lamented, “I’ve got to head to London for publicity, so we’re getting that done and then spending a few days at Jade’s house over there, then we have an event in Paris, then we’re home for about three days before she’s heading to Montreal to film for a month and a half.” 

“The rigours of the job,” he chuckled, “well, let’s hope you can pencil us in at some point soonish.” 

It was easier said than done, truly. “I’ll check my schedule and hers, and we’ll see what we can come up with.” 

“Appreciated. I’m very happy for you, by the way, Adrien. You sound content.” 

“I am,” he smiled, looking back at the house, seeing Jade still talking on the phone. “She makes me a happy man.” 

"Happy is the man who finds a true friend, and far happier is he who finds that true friend in his wife,” his father spoke warmly, Adrien pulling out his cigarettes and lighting one up. 

“Is that a Patrick Brody original musing?” 

“Franz Schubert. I thought it to be quite fitting.”  

It was.  

After finishing his cigarette, he headed back inside, sitting with Jade while looking at their schedules in the calendar apps on their phones.  

“So, for the next twelve months, we have a grand total accumulated time of eleven weeks with one another.” It wasn’t even full weeks either, save three over the Christmas period, and ten days in late summer. The rest were pinpointed days where they both would be home at the same time, Jade sighing as she leaned against him. “Twenty eleven looks good for you, though. You have one project to film, but I’ll be locked in the fucking studio out on the west coast for the first eight weeks while we record.”  

“There’s nothing stopping me coming out there with you when you do?” Leaning back on the couch, he put his phone down, pulling her against his chest. “It’ll be hard, but we’ll make it work.” They had no choice but to, the album, and then seven months of touring scheduled for twenty eleven, and two further months to get them around Europe in the first months of twenty twelve.  

With the success of their last album and demand for ticket sales, the girls would be switching up a gear, the demand to see them live so great that they’d already been informed by their management team that the next tour would be shorter, playing at arenas.  

The idea both delighted and terrified Jade.  

She had just over a year to panic about that, though, her first priority being more focused on her private life and enjoying her time with her brand-new husband all she could. It wasn’t without its issues, though. All of them external.  

“You have got to be fucking joking me,” Jade spoke, her body stiffening as they approached the main doors at Gatwick airport, the entrance rammed full of photographers. 

Adrien felt her muscles all tighten, his hand sliding to grasp hers. “It’s okay, baby love. There’re worse things than having your picture taken, even though it’s annoying when there’s that damned many of them.” 

She’d been hoping it would be different, the press intrusion usually way less ferocious in England than it was back in America, but she realised that wasn’t the case as the flickering of many flashes almost blinded her on exit of the airport, their driver holding the door of the waiting Range Rover open for them to jump straight in, ignoring all questions thrown at them on their way.  

“Thank fuck for window tints,” she muttered, clipping her seatbelt in, resting her head to his shoulder.  

He placed a kiss on her head, hand clutching hers again. “It’ll die down. Promise. You feeling okay with it, though? I know all of this is somewhat new for you, at least to this degree.” 

It was so on brand for him, to check in with how she felt, ever conscious over her wellbeing. “I’m still baffled that so many people are invested in our life, but I’m okay. Ish. I just don’t like intrusion to this magnitude, but you’re right. It’ll die down once us being married becomes old news. Come on, Britney. Do something scandalous and take the attention away from us.” 

He laughed softly at her comment, both then looking to their phones and catching up with missed messages during the flight. While she was there supporting him through his small publicity venture, she had some engagements of her own to fulfil, arranging with her management to be interviewed by a well-known rock radio station there in London.  

After checking it at the hotel and kissing Adrien within an inch of his life, she headed straight back out to the waiting car, being ferried across the city to the radio station headquarters, being greeted warmly by everyone she encountered once she’d reached the third floor.  

Her interview was being conducted by Sam Riley, a radio DJ and rock journalist she had a very good rapport with, the lady herself coming to give her a big hug prior to going live, also presenting her with a massive, gorgeous bouquet of flowers. 

“I have way too much respect to say anything while we’re on the air, but I just wanted to give you these with my warmest congratulations,” Sam spoke, handing her the flowers. “I hope you’ll both be very happy together. 

“Oh, Sam,” she cooed softly, leaning around the blooms to kiss her cheek. “Thank you so much, my darling.” If there was one set of people in the rock and metal world who respected her without question, it was the other women in it with her. As for Adrien, he was asked point blank at the end of his first interview, but in a way that didn’t prickle him, so gave a respectful answer to the respectfully delivered question. 

“While I’m not content to speak of my private life in any great detail, I will confirm that yes, we got married. We’re very happy, and out of respect for my wife and our privacy, that’s all I have to say.” 

He made a note to his publicist to forward on to any other journalists that he wasn’t willing to be further quizzed on his private life at that time, only prepared to speak about it on his own terms. The two days they spent in London flew by, and before they knew it, Jade was driving them up the M25, Buckinghamshire bound.  

The property itself was set upon many acres of land, a huge, dark wood gate bridging the gap between the high surrounding wall, ensuring them all the privacy they could want. Keying in the code on the pad, Jade shifted the car back into gear as the gates slowly opened, revealing a tree lined driveway. 

“Woah, this place is gorgeous!” he exclaimed as the house aptly named Lakeside came into view, turning to see Jade looked very happy to be home.  

“Isn’t it nice?” she smiled, turning her white Range Rover into the space outside of the double garage, feeling thankful it wasn’t a rental she had to worry about returning, her assistant having it driven down to London for her the day before. “I really wanted something much older, but I’m glad I went with a newer build. My friend Pamela who I told you about, she bought the other house I was looking at over on the other side of village and she’s had untold issues with it, being pretty much all original from when it was built in sixteen twenty.” 

It never ceased to blow his mind, just how old the buildings were in England, stunned when Jade had told him that the local village pub dated back to the fourteen hundreds. “And how old is this place?” 

“Built in nineteen eleven.” Nearly a hundred years old, and she still referred to it as a newer build. Insane. Inside, he fell in love with it, noting how they both had very similar tastes over architecture and interiors, Jade’s taste a little darker in the colours she preferred, the brilliant white welcome hall peeling off to a dark blue lounge, a deep, olive-green library and a claret red games room. The kitchen was down a level, the house built on a hillside, the back doors opening out into a sprawling garden, the stable block accessible from a side path.  

After they’d put their stuff down and furnished themselves with coffee, the horses were her first port of call.  

“There’s my boy!” she called with joy, watching the head of a huge grey horse shoot up, making soft whickering noises from his velvety muzzle. “Be careful, he’s a little man aggressive.” 

“Oh, that’s Dante, huh?” He’d been informed before about the horse who had an issue with men he didn’t know, only still mildly tolerating Bob, her estate manager who looked after him and the other steeds.  

“He is, yeah. Just keep back a few steps, because he lunges sometimes if he feels threatened.” 

He kept a distance, Jade unbolting the stable door and throwing her arms around his neck, patting his big shoulders and scratching his mane.  

“How are you, big fella? Awww, look at this beautiful face. I missed you; shall we go for a nice, long gallop in the morning, hmm?”  

Seeing her around animals was witnessing Jade in her natural habitat, Adrien well used to it at that point. If there was ever a cat on the street back in Manhattan, she had to stop and pet it, or if she saw a cute dog, the same approach was taken.  

The giant of a horse then noticed him, taking a few steps forward, reaching his long neck over the stable door to sniff. Adrien remained still, slowly bringing his hand up to scratch the side of his face, Dante accepting it completely.  

“I think your person has overplayed your evil, Dante,” he spoke, the horse then attempting to get into his coffee. “No, you can’t have this. It’s hot, you’ll burn yourself.” Looking away from the horse who was leaning into the scratch beneath his forelock, Adrien snorted a soft laugh. “What’s with that face, Moo?” 

“He doesn’t do this!” she exclaimed, standing there stunned, her mouth dropped open. “He hates men, all men. Seriously! It took Bob three weeks to even be able to go into his stable without being bitten to death!” 

“What’s his beef with guys?” he asked, holding the cup away again when Dante persisted. “Nope, still hot.” 

“He was abused in his last home by a man, neglected, too.” 

“What asshole did that to you, huh, pal?” he asked, laughing softly as the horse sniffed and nibbled his hair. “I’ll get ‘em.” As it turned out, all her other horses had been saved in some form or another. The next in the row of stables was Beckie, a little chestnut mare who had used to race, retired at four and with no use for breeding because of a small flaw with her legs, faced the slaughter yard. After her was Eddie, an ex-eventing horse who had been bought for two teenage boys and ridden into the ground over a season, the family not wise in horse husbandry, meaning he had been rail thin and exhausted by the time he made it to Lakeside.  

The fourth was being exercised in the large arena behind the stable block, being jumped over a set of eye wateringly large fences by a tall, greying man who Adrien presumed to be Bob. 

“Alright, chief,” he spoke warmly, riding over to the fence line, leaning to drop a kiss on her cheek upon his arrival. “Adrien, nice to meet you, mate. I’m Bob, also known as that mouthy bastard as your new missus likes to call me,” he added, winking at his boss.  

He laughed, reaching to shake his hand. “Sounds like something she’d say.”   

“Well, he bloody is, innit!” Jade exclaimed, poking her tongue out at Bob. As well as an employee, Bob was also one of her closest friends, as she’d previously told Adrien. After wishing to move from her previous British residence, it had been Bob who’d found the house for her, living locally himself in the village of Fulmer and noticing it for sale when he used to have to travel forty minutes each way to reach Jade’s former abode just outside of Oxford. “How’s my lovely Dolly Dagger?” 

Of course, Jade would have named her gigantic, dark bay mare after a Jimi Hendrix song. “A bloody dream, as always. She’s been a lot better for the heart bar shoes, too.” 

“I knew she would, having something to help spread her weight more evenly,” she nodded, patting Dolly’s sweaty neck. “My little frog with her flat feet.”  

Adrien stood with it all sailing over his head, the horse speak he didn’t have a clue over. All he knew was that it was probably expensive.  

“How much do horseshoes cost, then?” he asked as they were walking away again, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. 

“About eighty for a set of four, but Dolly’s are specialist, so those set me back a hundred and ten quid,” she revealed. 

“And what, they need those a couple of times a year?” 

Oh, bless him. “No, baby. Every four weeks. Each time the farrier comes it costs me five hundred and fifty to have four of them shod and their hooves trimmed.”  

“Ouch,” he spoke. It was a good job her careers were lucrative, having that kind of outlay, and just for the shoes. He shuddered to imagine what the four of them cost to feed. “Mind you, there are much worse things to spend your money on than animals.”  

“I’m glad you agree,” she chirped, beaming widely. 

He knew where this was going. “It doesn’t mean you get to fill our New York house with many and varied creatures, Jade.” 

“Yes, it does!”  

Oh, god. He loved animals, but truly, he knew with the excuse of them having land, his wife was likely to take that to the extreme. 

“I’m definitely getting horses, I need something to ride in the place I’ll be living most often,” she commented, Adrien immediately smirking. 

“You have me for that,” he winked, giving her a little shove with his shoulder.  

Spinning around to block his way, she draped her arms around his neck, her eyes full of suggestive promise. “I could really go in for some of that right now, you know.”  

She’d never been thrown over somebody’s shoulder so rapidly, Adrien carrying her back to the house and following her guidance in finding his way to the bedroom. It was a completely different vibe to her New York abode, the room painted a bluish grey with white furniture and dark grey furnishings, including the soft bed linen he dropped her down upon. 

“Do you have any plans for today?” he asked, fingers creeping beneath the little black vest top she wore, pushing it up to begin placing kisses upon her stomach. 

“Other than not leaving this bedroom, nope,” she confirmed, pulling her top off as he flicked her bra undone. 

“Good.”  

A whole lot of Adrien and nothing else. She could definitely get on board with that. 

[poppyrays]

Glass art of a poppy

There was no real foreplanning for it besides there being a poppy flower tbh

[sofasoap]

Audentes Fortuna Luvat

Summary: A midnight conversation between the two most unlikely people.

Character: Freya 'Mini' MacTavish and Vladimir Makarov. hint of ghost x freya on the side.

NOTE: This is pretty much a self indulgent, crossover fic between my OC Freya "Mini"MacTavish and @siilvan's OC Petra/Mylène Scholten de Ridder. set in AU of her bloodsport ( and me throwing bit of my own Lady Fortuna worldview into it) where NATO, Mi6 and CIA has decided to put a "leash" on Makarov, using him as a pawn as informant of the underworld. basically under house arrest within Taskforce 141 compound.

Warning: Minors/Under 18s Do not interact. M rated. Talks of violence. I know nothing about weapons and guns. so apologise in advance.

"You need to move your shoulders a bit lower." A voice suddenly appeared behind Freya, making her body twitch, missing the target completely.

Taking a deep breath, closing her eyes to try to calm herself before lowering her rifle,turning around slowly.

"Not someone I expect to see at this hour."

"And you are not the person I expect to see here either." Makarov looked at his nails as he replied nonchalantly, strutting closer towards the shooting table. 

Freya tensed. Why is he here by himself? She didn't expect him to have freedom to move around the base, without someone with him, especially not with Myléne by his side. Her hand crawls back towards the rifle, as security. But she knows if anything happens, there's  a high chance he will overpower her easily and take her down within minutes. 

That is when she wishes she can control her power freely. 

" What do you want?" Freya narrows her eyes, eyes darting towards the exit, and back toward him." Already planning to escape from here and pick up where you left off??" 

Makarov waved her off. " That isn't on my priority list at the moment."

"Not at the moment? Meaning you still plan to do it at some stage??” Freya pointed out the unspoken intention behind his words. 

"Maybe. Maybe not. But like I said previously. I am here for Myléne.”

“Oh, I believe you. When hell freezes over..” Freya laughed in a sarcastic tone.  

Makarov sighed dramatically, brows furrowed. "How do I convince you my intentions towards her are real and genuine? I volunteered to surrender myself, to let myself be captured by my biggest rival.."

"It might be part of your bigger plan.” Freya snorted. “Using her to infiltrate into our base,using your charming self to gain our trust before eliminating us one by one.” 

" That is true. Clever, Little MacTavish. Very clever. Just like your brother."

"Don't mock me.”

Makarov only grunted, not replying to her retort. 

Brief silence descended between the two.

"Why are you at the gun range in the middle of night? You are a medic, you don't really need to work so hard on the combat side of things." He changed the subject, pointing at the rifle on the table behind her back. She tilted her head, regarding him for the moment, trying to sense if he was trying to mock her, before turning back around towards the table, still having one eye on him as she checked the rifle chamber for bullets.

"True. But I want to. "  She hummed before starting to talk again,hands moving to dissemble the gun, satisfied with the safety checks. " .. I only got in because of my medical skill, and because of Mi6.” She sighed. Why is she even telling him about this?

“I am no soldier, Makarov. Not like my brother, team mates.” nodding towards him,” or like you. I had to work hard, trying to keep my skills up. I don’t want to be a burden to everyone else. It’s hard work keeping myself alive, in order to keep everyone else alive. I might be lady luck, but the power of my luck hardly extends to me half of the time.  Gotta keep my Scottish arse covered." 

Makarov laughed at the mention of her mysterious power. " There's no such thing as luck. Only meticulous foreplanning will give you success.” 

"We will see next time we all head out on a mission together. " Freya replied,not even offended. She’s used to people laughing at the supernatural aspect of her ability. "And care to explain how both Johnny and I survived after you nearly turned two of us into Swiss cheese.”

"Myléne 's excellent skills. "

"Partly. There is no denying she is an excellent medic, but ,remember,you shot Johnny right in the head.” 

Makarov was at a loss for words.  She does have a point there.

"And you nearly took out my lung and liver.  The two important  ingredients for haggis.Both of us should have gone into OHCA right on the spot . And that would have been the end of the famous MacTavish line on that day." She added, laughing at her own morbid joke. “But, we lived on. Continue to be a nuisance to the world.” 

This girl has a weird sense of humour. He thought. Just like a certain someone he knows... 

Clicking the latch , she closes the gun case and turns towards him, dusting her hands. “All I am trying to say is, keep your mind open. You never know. At least that is what I learnt when I discovered my own ability. Not everything in the world could be explained. At least not yet. “ 

Makarov nodded his head slightly, one brow cocked up. This little MacTavish never ceases to surprise him since the day they met. Just like John MacTavish, the siblings hide their real selves very well underneath the carefree chaotic façade.  

"........ what are you doing here Makarov?" A low voice growled behind him, laced with threat. Makarov clicks his tongue, frowning. Too deep in conversation with the younger MacTavish, he didn’t even notice the balaclava clad Lieutenant entered the room. Even though he knows no one will dare to attack him while he is on base, he still can’t let his guard down. 

"He's fine Simon. We just talked. I'm about to leave anyway. " Freya reassured him, drumming her fingers on the case. 

Ghost came out from the shadow, he walked toward Freya, taking the case from her and standing between her and Makarov, shielding her from him.

"Practising again? Told you not to come here without me. You know you can ask me for help anytime. It’s not safe to be here by yourself, especially at night time. You never know who you will run into.”Ghost sighed,subtly eyed Makarov, who couldn’t care less if the veiled insult was aimed towards him. 

Ghost gave Freya a slight nudge as he picked up the gun case, "Come on. Time for rest. You worked long hours the last few days. I don’t want to hear another story about how you start snoring in the middle of doing your reports." he childed at Freya as she pouted but let him lead her away from the shooting table. Ghost turned towards Makarov, dropping him a warning.

"And I suggest you return to your room before I throw you into the confinement room for walking around the base without a chaperone. Consider this as the one and only friendly gesture I will show you."  Because of Freya and Petra. You should be thankful. 

"Just taking a midnight stroll. Nothing else." Makarov explained." Relax, I am not going to harm your little Scottish girlfriend there."

"She's not...." 

"Hush simon. Ignore him, come on let's go.”Freya gave him a tug, cutting him off. “Nice chatting with you, VLADIMIR. Just remember, if you want to prove if luck is really on my side, you are welcome to join the next mission. “ Freya offered.

“Prove him wrong by not going on mission with him and let him die.” Simon grumbled, eyeing the man with intention to kill. 

"Simon! That's not nice!!" Freya scolded. 

“I don’t need to be nice to a man that has already killed countless people.” 

Freya sighed. But said nothing. She knows Ghost is right. But they can’t touch him right now. Not when there are strict orders that this man still has some use to them. 

Also, his relationship with her dearest friend….

The two of them turn and walk towards the door, Ghost’s arm wrapped around her protectively, Freya subconsciously leaning into him. 

"Freya." Makarov called out as the door was about to close. 

"Humm??" Simon and Freya stopped in their step. She turned her head around slightly. 

" ...I wouldn't let any harm come to her. That is something you can trust me on. "Makarov whispered, a slight trace of sincerity slipping through.

Freya lip pressed together, letting out a sigh. " I hope so.” Eyeing him wearily. “I really hope so.” 

[usafphantom2]

Russian Pilot Films His Flanker Falling Away After Ejecting During Combat Mission

The Russian pilot used a selfie video while parachuting to the ground to explain his jet had fallen victim to some kind of surprise attack.

Posted on Aug 5, 2024 1:33 PM EDT

A remarkable video has emerged, taken by a Russian fighter pilot after ejecting from his Flanker series jet, during the conflict in Ukraine. The footage joins a growing collection of air combat incidents captured on camera, by pilots on both sides involved in the war. Although it’s unclear exactly when or where the incident took place, it’s another reminder of the high-intensity air campaign being fought in and around Ukraine and the frequent life-or-death situations that the pilots involved face on a daily basis.

via X

A remarkable video has emerged, taken by a Russian fighter pilot after ejecting from his Flanker series jet, during the conflict in Ukraine. The footage joins a growing collection of air combat incidents captured on camera like never before by pilots on both sides of the war. Although it’s not exactly clear when or where the incident took place, it’s another reminder of the high-intensity air campaign being fought in and around Ukraine and the frequent life-or-death situations that the pilots involved face on a daily basis.

The video appears to have first been shared by Russian military blogger Kirill Fedorov on his War History Weapons account on the Telegram messaging app.

Shot entirely from the pilot’s perspective, the video begins above the clouds, showing the stricken fighter some distance below, in a flat spin toward the ground. At one point, one engine appears to be on fire. It’s not immediately clear what type of Flanker series fighter is involved, due to the distance from the camera and the relatively low quality.

The single-seat Su-35S multirole fighter, as well as the two-seat Su-30SM, and also the Su-34 Fullback, a Flanker-derivative strike aircraft, have all been widely used by Russia in the war in Ukraine. The Su-35S appears the most likely candidate in this instance, with no obvious signs of the broader ‘platypus’ forward fuselage of the Su-34, or the canard foreplanes found on both the Su-30SM and the Su-34. One other potential candidate is an older Su-27 fighter, of the kind that has seen more limited use in the fighting, based at Belbek in occupied Crimea.

A Russian Aerospace Forces Su-35S taxiing with its brake parachutes after landing. Andrei Shmatko/Wikimedia Commons An Su-35 landing at Russia’s airbase in Syria. Andrei Shmatko/wikicommons (CC BY-SA 4.0)

The perspective then switches to a view of the pilot, as he descends below his typical orange and white parachute, visor still closed. His portable survival kit, including an undeployed life raft, for a landing in water, can also be seen below him. Around the midway point in the video, on reaching a lower altitude, the pilot is able to remove his oxygen mask, raises his visor, and begins to address the camera.

A Zvezda К-36МD ejection seat of the kind used in various Flanker-series combat jets. Mike1979 Russia/Wikimedia Commons Mikhail Lyganov

It’s not possible to make out all the words that he’s saying, due to the buffeting of the wind around him.

However, he does seem to say: “We have been attacked and we had no time to do anything.” There are also various expletives, as might be expected.

Not revealed in the video is how the aircraft came to be shot down. There have been multiple Ukrainian claims by now of Russian Flankers shot down by their air defenses. A proportion of these Flankers have also been confirmed as lost in combat, thanks to available imagery evidence. At the same time, there have also been reported incidents of friendly fire that have led to losses of Russian tactical aircraft. So, friendly fire is certainly a possibility that can’t be ruled out on this occasion.

The relatively relaxed manner of the pilot — and especially the fact that he even decided to record the incident post-ejection — suggests that it may well have taken place over Russian territory, or perhaps a part of Ukraine where he could be confident that he wouldn’t be captured by Ukrainian forces.

Ukraine has dramatically demonstrated its ability to shoot down Russian aircraft flying within Russian airspace, so that’s certainly a possibility here, too, although we could also be seeing a friendly fire incident outside of Ukraine’s borders. The U.S.-made Patriot surface-to-air missile, above all, has been extracting a toll on Russian aircraft operating at some distance from the front lines, in Russian airspace.

A screen capture of a Ukrainian Air Force video shows images of three Russian helicopters and two Russian fighters painted on the side of a Patriot air defense battery. Defense Industry of Ukraine

According to the Oryx open-source tracking group, at least seven examples of the Su-35S alone have been destroyed in aerial combat in the Ukrainian war since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2022. The most recent of these was back in February of this year.

While it’s possible that the incident seen in the video is recent, there’s also every likelihood that it could date from earlier in the war and it might even show one of the Flanker losses that had already been confirmed. At this point, we don’t know for sure.

One online account has geolocated the location to an area near Chervonyi Yar, in the Kherson region of southern Ukraine, close to the Russian border, and suggests the incident took place on December 22, 2023. On that day, it was reported that Ukraine shot down three Russian Su-34s in southern Ukraine, although it’s possible that this may simply be another incident, or even that a Su-35S was misidentified as a Fullback.

Beyond doubt is the extraordinary nature of the video, although it’s hardly the first example from Ukraine of how cockpit cameras have changed the way that we see the realities of modern air combat.

There are some parallels between the Russian pilot’s video and that taken by Ukrainian pilot Vadym Voroshylov, callsign “Karaya,” who is claimed to have shot down five Russian ‘kamikaze drones’ in October 2022 before his MiG-29 collided with pieces of missile and drone. He was forced to eject, in an incident we covered at the time. A photo of Karaya’s bloodied face, after ejection, became an iconic image of the air war, while Voroshylov was awarded the Hero of Ukraine for his actions.

Thumbs-up from a bloodied Karaya as he descends under his parachute after ejecting from a MiG-29. Ukraine Territorial Defense Forces

Meanwhile, another Russian pilot also recorded his escape from a stricken Su-25 Frogfoot attack aircraft, in headcam video footage that also emerged in October 2022 but which is thought to show an incident from the previous summer. You can read our full assessment of it here.

On that occasion, the Su-25 was flying at very low level when perhaps it was struck by a surface-to-air missile, although it may also have hit power lines. More or less the full chain of events is recorded, starting with the jet departing from controlled flight and then the ejection sequence, followed by the demise of the jet in a fireball, as the pilot floats down to the ground.

Gradually, a growing collection of spectacular cockpit footage is coming together, again reflecting the degree to which almost all aspects of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine are being publicized via social media like no conflict before it.

The Flanker pilot’s ejection video is especially interesting since, while we may well never know the full story behind it, it’s a reminder that aerial engagements can and are still taking place over both Ukraine and Russia.

With the arrival of the first NATO-supplied F-16 fighters in Ukraine in the last few days, we may well be on the brink of a new phase of the air war, although we are unlikely to see these prized assets being used anywhere near where they would encounter another fighter, for now at least.

A Ukrainian F-16 shown fitted with four AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles and a Terma self-protection pod. Ukrainian Ministry of Defense screencap

Regardless of exactly when and where this Flanker combat ejection took place, it’s very clear that the battle for air superiority in the Ukraine war is far from over.

Contact the author: thomas@thewarzone.com

Latest in Flankers

[coquelicoq]

20. What's in your freezer right now?

oh no. you're really coming for me with this one. because i forget everything everywhere all the time, my freezer is a wasteland where food goes to die. i am not near my freezer at the moment and can't open it to give you an accounting, but off the top of my head:

definitely there is an empty box of frozen waffles in there that i keep forgetting to throw away. the reason i don't throw it away as soon as it's empty is because it takes up so much space in the garbage. the reason i don't throw it away when i take out the garbage is that i have of course forgotten that it's in there every time i go to take the garbage out. me, constantly: isn't there something else i meant to put in here? ah well. if it were really important it would start to smell.

frozen vegetables that have probably gone bad. just a week or two ago, upon discovering my fresh onions were moldy, i went to get out some frozen onions i had chopped previously in a rare burst of energy and foreplanning, only to find they also were all moldy. whoops.

frozen meat that has probably gone bad. some of it is. VERY old.

at least one bread product that used to be in my ex's freezer (probably for multiple years) that he held onto for a year after we broke up and then RETURNED TO ME when we were exchanging belongings in 2018, and instead of throwing it away immediately i just buried it in my freezer where it has languished for [does subtraction] SEVEN ADDITIONAL YEARS??? i don't even know why i didn't throw it away immediately; he gave me like two full grocery bags of frozen food and i got rid of almost all of it right away except this one thing. 2018 me international man of mystery

popsicles! these are real and i will eat them.

freezer packs

frozen butter that i do regularly rotate out for baking purposes

not that much specialty flour anymore because i got rid of most of it a few months ago, but when i was eating gluten-free i had at least 15 alternative starches and flours stored in my freezer.

a rubber duck that my friend gave me probably 15 years ago in a care package she made for me of items mentioned in the weird al song "whatever you like". she told me keeping the duck in the freezer was essential for it to be "cold duck on ice"