#i suppose i will just be stoned the entire weekend

[punk-pandame]

note to self: do not tear rotator cuff during holidays

[izzy-b-hands]

The good news: I captured the flying bug from yesterday

The bad news: ...you guys remember how Sally dropped the bell jar on her cupcake in that one Taskmaster task? Well, I was using a mug we never use to try and cover him, and I'm very sorry.

[lucyrose191]

BROKEN DECISIONS| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Divorced!Toto Wolff x fem!engineer!Schumacher!reader

Summary; The news of Toto Wolff divorcing from Susie has just hit the media and you, Michael Schumacher’s eldest daughter and George Russel’s race engineer, are beyond shocked, even more so as your relationship with your boss begins to evolve.

Warnings; angst, light smut, heartbreak, pregnancy trope.

F1 Master List , Part 2

The paddock was overwhelmed with media reporters and cameras, way more than usual for a race weekend, the Mercedes garage was surrounded by people as well as the entrance to the track, all waiting for one man, Toto Wolff.

You had been more than taken back by the joint statements released this morning which both effectively said the same thing.

mercedesamgf1: Team Principle Toto Wolff announces divorce from wife Susie Wolff, both will continue to co-parent son Jack Wolff and will continue to work together happily, they wish nothing but the best for each other in the future and wish for the privacy and support they need during this time.

SusieStoddart: Toto and I have mutually decided to part ways and divorce after 12 years of marriage, both of us will continue to co-parent our son, Jack and will continue working together in the future. I wish nothing but the best to him for the future, please respect our privacy during this time and I hope you guys will continue to support us both from this point on, even on our separate paths. Thank you.

It all seemed so sudden to you, nothing has seemed out of place whenever they were in the garage together but you suppose that’s how the saying you never know what’s going on behind closed doors goes.

You squeezed your way through the crowd, ignoring all of the questions fired your way and the cameras and microphones that were shoved in your face, it wasn’t your job to be making comments about a relationship that had nothing to do with you and it was entirely unprofessional.

Huffing out a breath as you finally crossed the threshold of the garage, you straightened out your clothes and bag before making your way over to your desk that you sat at whenever George was out on the track.

Bono was already in his chair and looked up when he heard you pull your hair out, taking note of your flustered state. "I take it you’ve seen the news."

"It’s everywhere! It’d be a miracle if I hadn’t seen it," you huffed. Looking around, you noticed how flustered everyone else seemed to be whilst trying to do their jobs, you didn’t blame them because right now no one knew what mood the boss was going to be in when he arrived, if he arrived.

"Is he even coming today? I certainly wouldn’t." You asked.

Bono shrugged, "you know what he’s like, that man would be here even if his leg was falling off, he’ll be here and god help him when he is."

"Yeah, true. Am I blind though or did anyone else not see this coming because they were both at the factory two weeks ago and everything seemed fine to me."

Bono turned away from his monitor and completely turned to you, huddling closer. "I didn’t suspect anything either but they’re really good as keeping work life and private life separated. Have you seen some of the rumours though?"

You snorted and nodded your head, "I’ve seen the ones about Toto having an affair which is ridiculous, that man does not have the time to be hiding an entire relationship."

Bono laughed at your choice of words but abruptly stopped as he stared behind you causing you to look at him in confusion before turning around, pausing at the sight of your boss walking in with a face of stone.

"Ahh shit," you muttered, hearing a small hum of agreement coming from Bono.

Then you saw him heading into your direction.

"Double shit," You heard Bono mumble causing you to bite your lip, trying to prevent yourself from smiling.

"Y/N. Bono. Good Morning," Toto nodded his head in greeting.

You smiled up at him, "Morning, boss, feeling positive about today?"

Bono sighed from behind you which caused you to internally wince at your own words, now realising that might not have been a good question to ask.

"Yeah," Toto looked between the pair of you suspiciously. "Are you?"

"Very," you tried to sound convincing, "I’m sure George is going to drive like it’s his last race and if not then I’ll boot him up the arse."

Toto looked at you amused, "I believe you."

After he walked away you turned to Bono with a pained look on your face meanwhile he was trying not to fall into laughter. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

He laughed straight in your face as you sighed at yourself. "How an I supposed to talk to him normally when all I want to say to his face is ‘hey, heard about your divorce, that sucks and now everyone thinks you can’t keep a wife’."

"Yeah don’t say that," Bono grimaced at your words.

Everything was real now, it had been real for a while but now the news was out for everyone to gossip about.

Things hadn’t been right for a long time between him and Susie and whilst there hadn’t been any constant arguing or disloyalty between the two of them, there hadn’t been much else either.

You’d have thought working within the same industry would have built an understanding between them about their schedules and commitments and it had in the beginning but as formula one became more popular, their lives had only gotten busier to the point they hardly saw each other and even when they did it was only to ensure Jack was getting enough quality time with both of his parents, it was as though they had been coparenting with each other whilst they weren’t even split.

A year ago they had accepted the inevitable fate of their marriage and had been figuring out the logistics of their divorce but just like they had kept their struggles silenced, they had kept the news of their parting silent too.

But it had been over a year now and quite frankly the fake shows they were putting on were getting exhausting, they were both moving on and pretending to still be a happily married couple wasn’t doing well in helping them in the process.

Toto had found a particular thing that hadn’t allowed him to dwell in the sadness of his private life. Something, or someone, that didn’t even know how much they were helping him.

You.

Everyday you showed up to work with a smile on your face, eternally grateful for everything life had offered you. You had achieved your dreams of working within formula one, it might not have been on the track driving at record breaking speeds like your father but you had one of the most important roles in the team and you enjoyed it.

Even today as he walked through the doors trying to ignore all of the sad, pathetic looks people were giving him and the onslaught of invasive questions people were attacking him with and even if they weren’t verbally shooting words his way, he could see the unasked questions in everyone’s eyes, you greeted him like you did every other day and whilst he knew you were aware of the news, nothing in your face showed the slightest bit of curiosity towards the end of his marriage and he couldn’t express how refreshing that was and how much he needed it.

Slowly, he found himself looking forward to the days ahead where he could bump into you and witness the smile on your face as he tried to ignore the way your energy made his heart feel funny and when Mick signed as the team’s reserve driver he would use the fact that he was ‘mentoring’ your little brother as an excuse to see you, knowing that naturally he would be around you more.

You jumped up from your seat in excitement as you saw both Mercedes cars pass the checkered flag securing second and third place behind Max, obviously.

"George you fucking beautiful human bring!" You shouted through the radio before turning to look for Toto, hoping that these results would have put a smile on his face only to find that he was already looking at you intensely, not even acknowledging the pats he was getting on his back by team members.

He winked at you? And sent you what seemed to be a grateful smile before turning away to celebrate with those around him. You were thankful he did so and didn’t see the pink hue you could feel spreading through your cheeks.

A sudden weight on your back didn’t allow you to dwell on it. Mick had launched himself at you in his exhilaration causing you to quickly latch onto his legs so you both didn’t go tumbling, you laughed and spun the pair of you around before putting him down so you could all go outside and gather in the pits to watch the podium.

You always went out of your way to be a kind person but the moment your team was standing under the podium all manners went out of the way and you barged your way to the front of the barriers to watch, mumbling half-hearted apologies, you knew no one would take your behaviour the wrong way as you’ve known them for so long.

Looking up, you were happy to see the smiles on Lewis and George’s faces, tough seasons can really take a told on the mental health of the drivers and it can be easy to lose motivation, especially when you were part of a team that was so used to winning but they looked as happy as ever now and it made all of the hard work that everyone had put in worth it.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders startling you, followed by the feeling of a firm chest being pressed up against your back. You looked up and saw Toto but he wasn’t looking at you, he kept his gaze up on the podium and the happiness on his face hadn’t subsided so you didn’t question it and turned back to the celebrations.

His behaviour was really confusing you and you wanted to talk to him about it but decided to push it away for another day.

His behaviour hasn’t been limited to that day alone.

The entire season has been filled with soft touches from him, from a small brush of his hand against your back as he walked past or light touches of your hips to guide you to the side when you were in his walk way.

Let’s not forget about the way he started to look at you. Toto’s stare was always intense but now you couldn’t ignore the soft shine his eyes held as he looked at you.

You hoped you weren’t reading too much into things otherwise that would be embarrassing but you couldn’t stop noticing the little things he would do and what was even worse was the way these things were effecting you.

These touches would leave your skin feeling tingly and your head fuzzy to the point your mind just turned blank and now whenever he was so much as in the same room as you, your mind became hyper-fixated on his presence to the point it felt like you were compelled to constantly glance in his direction.

You had worked for him for nearly eight years and not once had you even considered looking at him in any other way other than as your boss and a friend.

You acknowledged that he was handsome and had the charisma to match but you had never been attracted to him up until now, how was this year any different to the last seven?

Hands slamming down into your desk startled you from your thoughts, you looked up wide eyed at the grinning face of your younger brother causing you to grumble in annoyance and throw the pen that was sitting on your desk at him.

"What’s wrong with your face?" Mick easily dodged your attack and asked.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"My big sister always has a smile on her face and for the last twenty minutes you’ve been sat there staring at nothing with a frown on your face."

"Nothing," you muttered, turning back to your laptop screen that had long since shut off.

"Right," Mick replied sarcastically, "Come on, tell me what’s wrong."

You pursed your lips as you debated telling him or not. "You promise not to tell anyone?"

Mick’s face lost its teasing look as he realised you were actually troubled. "Of course." He replied sincerely.

You hesitated for a moment longer before asking "have you noticed that Toto has been acting strange lately?"

Mick looked at you surprised for a moment before smirking and nodded, "you mean the fact that the entire season he’s been staring at you like you’re the finest piece of meat he’s ever seen?" He asked teasingly.

"I wouldn’t have worded it that way but yeah," you responded.

"Then yes, I’m surprised it took you this long to acknowledge it."

You shook your head, "I noticed it at the beginning of the season but I thought I was imagining it and now I can’t stop noticing the fact that he-"

"Fancies the hell out of you?" Mick finished, a shit eating grin on his face.

You groaned and placed your head against your desk. "This is wrong, he’s my boss!"

"Tell me about it, he’s mine too and he fancies my sister!"

"Stop saying he fancies me!" You told him resulting in him just laughing at you. "Seriously Mick, what am I supposed to do?"

Mick sighed and looked at you seriously, "Do you like him?"

"I dont know," you replied honestly, "before this season I wouldn’t have even looked at him as anything but my boss and a friend but now he keeps looking at me and taking any opportunity to touch me and it’s confusing me."

Mick pulled an uncomfortable face at your words but gave you some advice. "Then do nothing until you know for sure."

You nodded and he smiled before walking around your desk and wrapping you in a tight hug which was more like a headlock but it was a hug nonetheless.

"Smile! We’re in Abu Dhabi and we’re partying tonight," he fake cheered as he walked away causing you to laugh at his behaviour.

And that’s exactly what you did. It had been a tough season for Mercedes, the team hadn’t nearly performed as well as they were used to but through a lot of hard work the season had ended on a high note and and no one was going to dwell on this years difficulties tonight.

You were definitely allowing yourself some freedom tonight to drink away and forget about the confusing thoughts that had been swimming around in your head all season.

The club was dark except for the colourful flashing lights that were roaming the entirety of the room that the FIA had rented out for all of the f1 teams celebrating tonight. You were already feeling more relaxed from the three drinks you hadn’t wasted time on consuming and had dragged poor Bono, who had zero rhythm, to the dance floor.

The man looked traumatised as he simply stood there awkwardly with you holding onto his hands, swaying his arms to try and encourage him to dance and have a bit of fun.

You kept him there for an hour before eventually taking pity on him and letting him go, you walked over to the bar to get another drink, not seeing the person approaching you until he was right beside you.

"You look lovely."

You turned to your right in surprise, Toto was mimicking your stance, leaning his side against the bar as he looked into yours eyes. "Thank you," you replied, a little shocked at his words.

"I see you were having fun with Bono," he commented absentmindedly.

You laughed, "Me? Yes. I don’t think he was having as much fun as I was."

"He’s not much of a dancer," Toto smirked.

"Oh, I know. He can’t move to save his life but it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try."

The bartender placed your drink in front of you and you took a sip after giving him a thanks. "Have you been having fun?" You asked.

Toto tapped his fingers against the bar top and signed. "As much as I can after the shit season we’ve had."

"We’ll be better next year," you replied confidently.

He simply nodded in response, dragging his gaze down your body and back up again.

The feeling of his eyes trailing you left a burning heat on your skin and an unfamiliar fluttering in your stomach.

"I like this dress," he told you, nodding at the tight fabric that clung to your figure.

"I got it yesterday," you knew he didn’t care but for some reason you felt inclined to share that information with him, fighting the urge to look away and hide a smile.

"You picked wisely," he immediately responded and this time you didn’t fight the smile, his smooth responses settling within you exactly how he wanted.

"I’m glad you like it," your voice was quiet in the midst of the loud music and voices but it didn’t prevent him from hearing you words.

The way he smirked down at you made you feel much smaller than you were, the idea of how his stature and strength would help with the power he held over you made you burn with need and the want to find out for yourself.

You huffed out a breath.

You needed another drink.

You threw your head back into the pillows and gasped as Toto thrusted into you, pulsating pleasure rushing through your body with every movement.

You didn’t know how you got to this point, the night was a haze of drinking, close dancing and longing looks but the one memory that stood out was the warmth of Toto’s hands against your hips, after that everything blurred up until this moment.

Your arm wrapped around the back of his neck, your hand burying itself into his hair as you tried to ground yourself but you were hopeless within the haze of his kisses against your throat and hands holding your thighs spread for him.

"Toto!"

His breath was heavy against your skin. "You feel so good, schatz." The guttural groan he released sent you feral, you tightened your grip on him and pulled him closer so your chests pressed against each other.

Your vision went white as Toto just grazed that sweet spot inside you with one particularly hard thrust before he angled his hips in a way that with each bruising snap of his hips he made, the tip of his cock would brush against you just right.

As you felt yourself approaching your release, your back arched and the air remained trapped in your lungs, your grip tightened on Toto’s hair causing him to groan into your neck while your other hand shot up behind you and grabbed onto the headboard.

Just as you were at the precipice of your release, Toto reached down and circled your clit with his fingers providing the last bit of stimulation needed for you to let go and dive into a river of overwhelming pleasure.

The sight of your face completely blissed out made Toto’s cock harden more inside of you, he continued to thrust and work you through your orgasm whilst chasing his own, chasing his release as he felt his body fill with an indescribable need to continue rutting into you.

The groan of relief he let out followed by a warmth in your core brought you back to reality, Toto allowed his body to collapse onto your own and simply lay there as he caught his breath and recovered from his own orgasm.

Your hand continued to run through his hair, grounding his mind to reality and encouraging him back from his high.

Moments later, Toto removed himself from you and curled up behind you, wrapped an arm across your stomach and pulled you into his chest.

Both still feeling the haze of the alcohol in your systems, no words needed to be spoken between the pair of you as you both succumbed to much needed sleep.

You woke up feeling as though your brain was swelling beyond the capacity of your skull and dehydrated to the point you felt like you could drink about forty litres of water.

Every part of your body ached as you moved beneath the covers, flashes of last night flickered through your mind causing you to groan at the reminder of your drink choices.

You were definitely regretting it now.

A particular memory caused you to pause and look beneath the sheets, grimacing as you realised you were naked.

Then you froze, Toto.

Your head shot to the side and instead of laying your eyes upon your boss’ 6ft5 frame you were greeted by an empty half of the bed with only crumpled white sheets.

Your heart dropped as you looked around the room, there was no indication that anyone else had been here but the ache between your legs made it very clear that last night did in fact happen.

He had left.

After an entire season of fighting with your feelings and the way he made you feel, you had given in to him only for him to leave.

You felt sick and dirty and disgusting and used.

You pulled yourself into the shower and tried to to push down the need to cry but you were filled with an overwhelming sense of betrayal and couldn’t stop the rogue fear that fell down your cheek.

Waiting to board the plane back to England, you looked down at your phone, you had a feeling Toto was already there by now and you had messaged him ages ago but no response.

Had you been crazy believing that he could have feelings for you?

You were so mad at yourself for being as affected as you were by his actions, it felt like someone had your heart in their fist and found amusement in squeezing it, filling you with the need to just let go and allow your emotions to flow freely.

You didn’t need to be back at the factory until after Christmas so you went straight home and unpacked your bag before repacking to go and spend your time off in Switzerland with your family, Toto still hadn’t responded and you were positive he was just ignoring you now and you didn’t try to get a response.

You’d deal with that after Christmas.

Normally you’d wait a week or two after the season ended to go back home but you really had no reason to stay, you’d changed your mind on attending the FIA awards which had confused Mick when you told him but he could tell something was wrong and chose not to pry.

You seriously didn’t think the year could get worse, you were so wrong.

The last three weeks in Switzerland had been hell to put it lightly, Christmas was just around the corner but it was hard to be excited when you had caught the sickness bug, the amount of time you spent in bed throwing up was disgusting at this point and the coddling of your family wasn’t helping.

You knew they loved you but you wish they’d just leave you alone to wallow in misery.

Toto was still a lingering thought in the back of your mind and it was only adding to how rubbish you felt but you hadn’t made any other attempt to get in touch, he hadn’t tried either so you knew where you stood with him and that was enough.

New years had passed and you were now back in England to go back to work, you had never dreaded going to work in all the years you’d worked for Mercedes so the unsettling feeling in your stomach was new.

But that could also just be nausea.

You still hadn’t completely recovered from your sickness over the holidays, you were no longer bed bound but the urge to throw up and the loss of appetite was still there, the loss of weight was visible in the sickly paleness of your face so you had booked a doctors appointment for the upcoming Friday.

Your stomach churned as you walked through the doors of the Mercedes headquarters, as the daughter of Michael Schumacher you got a lot more attention in the building as you would’ve if you were just a race engineer so the nods from almost everyone as you walked in weren’t strange to you but the sympathetic looks were.

You hoped it was just because you looked as if you hadn’t seen sun for the past ten years.

Deciding to stop by hospitality on the way to your office for a bottle of water, you paused in the doorway at the sight of Toto and didn’t hesitate to turn right back around before your mind even processed his presence.

You got a few funny looks by the people in there but you truly didn’t care.

It stayed like that for the rest of the week, whenever you found yourself in the same room as your boss there was no time wasted before you left even if there were still things needed to be done in that room, you didn’t even try to be subtle about it either.

As soon as he entered the room you immediately took your leave, it was rude but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care and you doubted he cared either.

You had taken the day off work today to attend your doctor’s appointment so thankfully you didn’t need to waste your efforts avoiding him.

"Symptoms are nausea, sickness and weight loss," The doctor listed and you nodded in clarification.

She looked at you knowingly, "When did your last cycle finish?" She asked.

You pulled a face and leaned your head back in thought, it was probably before Vegas, but that was….. your face grew even paler than it already was.

"November," you whispered, your body filling with complete and utter horror.

The doctor’s face grew sympathetic at your reaction, "and you’ve had unprotected sexual intercourse since then?" She asked though your face gave her the answer.

You were at a loss for words so you resulted in nodding; the idea of you being pregnant only made you feel more sick.

"Okay," she replied softly, "We’ll have you take a test to confirm."

You didn’t even register the next ten minutes, lost in your own mind as an emptiness settled within you, your chest ached with pain at the idea that your whole life could be changed in just a few short minutes.

"Miss Schumacher, are you okay?" The doctor asked worriedly.

You snapped back to reality and nodded numbly.

"The test came back positive, Y/N, so I’ll refer you to a midwife and during this time you should think about what you want to do, okay?"

How you didn’t crash on the way home was a miracle because you definitely weren’t concentrating, you carried your body straight to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, you looked like hell.

Just the sight caused your eyes to well up and this time you didn’t fight the emotions, you welcomed the tears and allowed the pain to consume you, the pain of realising just how alone you were in this moment.

You slid down against the bathroom door and curled yourself into a ball, buried your face into your knees and sobbed until you no longer could.

The weight in your chest was still present as you walked into work the following Monday but you no longer had any tears to spare, you had made up your mind about what your future would consist of and today would mark the beginning of it.

Knocking on the door to Toto’s office, you waited for confirmation to enter and he clearly hadn’t anticipated you on the other side from the look of surprise on his face but you didn’t mention it and closed the door behind you.

"We need to talk," you wasted no time in pleasantries and sat down in the seat opposite him.

"Is there a problem with the car?" He asked, his formal tone cut through you like a knife but you refused to show the effect it had.

You wouldn’t have thought the pair of you were friends just two months ago.

"There’s nothing wrong with the car," you told him.

"What do we need to talk about then?" He asked.

He was royally pissing you off with the way he was pretending to be ignorant. "We need to talk about what happened between us-"

"This is unprofessional," he interrupted and you scoffed in disbelief.

"Unprofessional?" You laughed in his face. "Do you know what else in unprofessional? Sleeping with your employee."

His face dropped at the bluntness of your words, "look, you shouldn’t be bringing private matters into the workplace."

"How else am I supposed to bring them up? Over text message where I never get a response?" You looked at him incredulously. "This is important-"

"I don’t want to hear it, Y/N," he cut you off harshly. "What happened between us shouldn’t have happened, it was a moment of weakness and it will never happen again."

You looked at him stone faced before nodding, "fine." You got up from your seat and left without another word, not bothering closing his door.

You didn’t go to your office, instead you went to HR.

Walking past the different offices you went straight for the head of HR. "Chloe?" You knocked on the door quietly, opening it once you received a response.

She smiled at you in greeting, "Y/N, can I help you with something?"

You nodded softly and sat down on the sofa she had against the wall. "How many holidays do I have?"

She looked at you suspiciously, "All of them, you didn’t put one in for Friday so that went unpaid."

"Okay," you muttered under your breath, "I want to cash them all in, starting from tomorrow."

"What?" She looked at you shocked. "Are you sure? If there’s something going on we can figure out a better solution for you."

You smiled and shook your head, "Uhm no I’m sure, I want to use them all and then after that I’ll be taking early maternity leave."

Chloe’s eyes widened in shock. "Wow, okay, congratulations."

"Thanks, I want to spend my pregnancy in Switzerland so you won’t see me around."

You could see that she had questions but didn’t ask them and you appreciated it, "I understand, I’m happy for you Y/N, I’ll get it all sorted for you."

"Great," you stood up and headed towards the door.

"Y/N?" You turned around, Chloe looked at you sincerely, "Give me a call if you need someone to talk to, yeah?"

You probably wouldn’t but you nodded and left.

To say Toto was surprised when he found out they were down their usual race engineer for the season was an understatement.

It was completely unexpected and he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy about it, George was not at all in agreement to having a new voice in his ear.

It wasn’t even for a couple races either, it was for the entire season.

No one in the team had any information on what had happened except two people, Mick and Chloe.

No one could ask Mick because he had left to do the world endurance championship and when Toto had went to ask Chloe all he got was a shrug and words that sounded as though they’d been read from the companies handbook.

"It’s against an employee’s confidentiality rights to discuss the matters with you, even if you are the boss, all I can tell you is she’ll be back at work next year."

Meanwhile, in Switzerland you were slowly but surely feeling much better.

You were putting the situation between you and Toto behind you, you were recovering and as you did, your bump grew and the sight made you smile.

The horror and fear you felt when you found out about your pregnancy had dissipated weeks ago, leaving you filled with excitement and love for the journey you had ahead of you.

With your mother and sister around you, the loneliness you felt had evaporated as well.

You were doing good and felt amazing and that’s all that mattered right now.

[gene-nine]

night at the museum (j.p x fem!reader)

hi !!! this is my first pic post so please don't bully me.

pairing: james potter x reader

synopsis: your good friend james invites you to go on an "unauthorized" trip to the museum with your friends.

warnings: not proofread :)

words: 2385

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you knew James Potter. everyone did. 

only, you had the ‘wonderful privilege’ (as he liked to call it) of being his friend. this duty of yours involved watching quidditch games you didn’t particularly care about all that much (with Remus as decent company), struggling to pay attention in class because all this kid does is talk, and, as you’ve found yourself now, going on adventures through the city outside Hogwarts.

when James first started apparating off the Hogwarts campus with Sirius, you had told him he was an idiot and that he was going to get in trouble. after the fifth or sixth time, you became intrigued. even Remus and Peter had begun accompanying them, which meant that it wasn’t entirely the wreckless free-for-all that usually followed Sirius and James around. James hadn’t ever actually invited you to go with, but he hadn’t invited Lily, Marlene, or Mary either, so maybe it was just a guy thing. regardless, you started (not so subtly) asking James about what kind of stuff they did when they went out.

“and why are you suddenly so interested?” James chuckles quietly from beside you in potions. you were supposed to be taking notes, but you had stopped listening a while ago.

“you guys always come back so talkative and happy, i was just wondering what you got up to.” you feign being nonchalant, looking up at the chalkboard for the first time in 10 minutes and scribbling something down in your notebook. you can’t let him know that he’s been the more academically productive person between the two of you. 

“i mean, usually we just go to bars. we followed Remus to a few bookstores one time. Sirius found an antique shop he liked, bought a jacket there once,” he whispers back, still taking notes, “why? jealous you haven’t been invited?” he taunts, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“no. i was just curious.” you roll your eyes, but it’s no use. he knows you’re interested.

“what happened to ‘you’re going to get caught, James’ or ‘this is such a stupid idea, i can’t believe Remus is going along with it’?” he mocks in his best (worst) impression of you. you scoff in annoyance.

“nevermind, sorry i asked.” you raise your hands slightly in surrender. 

“we were actually going to go this weekend. Lily said there’s a cool museum out there and Remus seemed excited. wanna go?” he finally looks in your direction, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face.

“sure. but only if the other girls are invited. i don’t want to have to babysit.” you can’t let his ego get too high, knowing you wanted to go with him. he mutters back, something between a ‘mhm’ and ‘yeah right’. the rest of the lecture goes by in silence and you can finally focus, except for the incessant thump on the leg of your chair as James swings his feet (an annoying habit you’ve grown to ignore).

by the time the weekend rolls around, the museum was all you, Lily, and Remus could talk about. apparently, it opened in the early 1600s and has roughly 20,000 paintings (statistics that Lily had found in some library book). you were more excited to get out of the stuffy castle, the fall air not quite making it through the stone walls. 

James insisted upon leaving the castle at 7:00 a.m., claiming that’s the best time to apparate without McGonagall seeing you. James and Remus were at the meeting spot at 7 sharp, with you, Lily, Marlene, and Mary arriving shortly after, and Sirius and Peter getting there at 7:10. the feeling of apparating never improved. it felt as if every molecule of your being was shrunk down and shoved forwards simultaneously. even though you’re apparating by holding onto James (you have yet to learn how to on your own), you’re still terrified of getting splinched. no matter how many times he assures you it won’t happen.

you appear a few blocks away from the museum, all a part of James’ plan supposedly. as the group walks, James slows to walk beside you.

“pretty cool, huh?” that cocky grin on his face taunting a silent ‘i told you so’. he earns a gentle shove, but there’s nothing fake about your excitement. you hadn’t spent a lot of time outside of Hogwarts during the actual school year, and the fall season is certainly not disappointing. despite the early hour, there are people walking on the sidewalks in scarves and boots. some carry a warm drink in hand, and James can hardly miss the way your excitement peaks at the sight of a dog and their owner passing by. it feels more magical than the school grounds ever did. 

“it’s incredible.” you reply genuinely. you can’t even think of a banter-ish comment to respond with. James swings an arm around your shoulders casually as the group is about to cross the street towards the steps of the museum. 

“just you wait.” he whispers in your ear and you smile wide.

 one thing you hadn’t expected from a Muggle museum was security. Wizarding museums didn’t need any, all the protective measures were covered with magic-blocking spells and tracking enchantments on every person and work of art in the building. but this museum had metal detectors and security guards the moment you walked in. even though security gave the group a long look (an even longer one at Sirius), you were able to get through without any problems. once your day passes were bought, you were off. 

Lilly drags the group to go see a painting about Romeo and Juliet she had read about. it took one gross comment from Sirius about the ‘nakedness’ of Juliet before Marlene grabbed the collar of his jacket and dragged him off into another section. museum guidebook in hand, Mary leads the group to a section of landscape paintings by some artist named Francis Lynch. 

“says here he completed nearly a hundred works before his untimely death in 1825 when he was bludgeoned to death by his wife...” Peter reads from over Mary’s shoulder, “cheery.”

“she probably went crazy from all the paint fumes in the house.” James snorts from beside you, earning an elbow to the ribs. 

“hey! this one looks just like you, Prongs!” you exclaim to James, pointing at another painting of a doe in a meadow. 

“if this is your way of telling me i’m majestic and a natural beauty, then compliment taken.”

“you wish.”

you wander off, loosely following the group through the giant rooms. you stop in front of a huge painting called Orpheus and Eurydice. it depicts Orpheus reaching for a glowing Eurydice as she’s pulled back down to Hades.

“remind me how this myth goes again?” a voice asks from behind you. you turn to see James, staring up at the painting with the same look of amazement you had been showcasing a few moments prior.

“Orpheus travels to the underworld to beg Hades to let his soulmate, Eurydice, leave and return to life. Hades agrees, but only if Orpheus can lead her out without turning around to make sure she is still following.” you explain. you had always been interested in greek mythology, and James is often nosy about what you’re reading.

“and Orpheus turns around.” he adds, “i don’t understand, though. why would Hades give Orpheus a challenge he so easily could have completed? you know, if he wasn’t a loser.” you snort.

“i don’t know. i think it’s the perfect impossible challenge. Hades knew he wouldn’t have bee able to do it if it was him and Persephone. plus, if Orpheus didn’t love her enough to turn around, he wouldn’t have loved her enough to go to Hades in the first place.” you’re both silent for a moment.

“would you? turn around, i mean. if it was the love of your life.” James air quotes that last part.

“i don’t know. would you?” you turn to face him.

“i don’t know.” he responds simply. you both pause for a moment to stare up at the painting that outdates you both by centuries. you slowly shift your gaze to the boy next to you. his hair is messy from him constantly trying to fix it everytime a girl his age walks by. his Gryffindor sweater sleeves are pulled down over his hands slightly due to the low temperature in the museum. his glasses are still slightly tilted on his face from his most recent prank that pissed off the Slytherin Quidditch captain, who then punched him in the face. Pomfrey was able to fix his nose up just fine while his messed up glasses rested in his pocket. Magic could only fix them so much, so now they fit his face all weird (you still think it’s endearing). you eventually realize that you’re staring and decide you need a change of scenery.

“come on, lets go see the sculptures. i need to see something not two-dimensional.” you grab James’ hand and take off towards a staircase going upward. you practically skip up the stairs before James has to tell you to slow down. still walking hand in hand, arms swinging obnoxiously, you two peruse through the sculptures. some are abstract, and you can see James trying to figure them out, his head tilting to the side with his tongue sticking out slightly before giving up and moving to the next. you can hear Marlene and Lily yelling at Sirius for something in the room next to you, so you head in there. turns out he had tried using a transfiguration spell on a ceramic tiger. Remus, Mary, and Peter weren’t far away, assessing some sculpture made from wood and nails. you drop James’ hand and skip over to Lily, throwing your arms around her shoulders from behind.

“how goes it?” you ask, casting an amused glance at Sirius, whose wand has been confiscated by Marlene. 

“other than Sirius trying to cause a mauling in the museum and Peter nearly knocking over a multi-million dollar vase, pretty okay.” she responds, “i got to see the Ophelia painting i was interested in.” she adds excitedly. 

“i showed Moony a painting of a wolf-looking creature and he was not amused.” Mary adds from her spot at the wood sculpture. 

“can we just visit the gift shop already?” Sirius whines. at this point, you all had been walking around for the better part of an hour and to be totally honest, the gift shop had been at the back of your mind the whole time. after a chorus of enthusiastic agreement from everyone, Mary leads the group to the bottom floor where the shop is (she won’t let anyone else use her map). once in the gift shop, everyone disperses. Peter goes looking for the station where he can fill up a little velvet bag with tumbled rocks. Marlene finds an umbrella with the pattern of a famous painting on it. Lily and Mary find t-shirts with the name of the museum on the front and a painting on the back. Remus finds a pin to put on his bag and a set of museum postcards. Sirius gets a stuffed animal dinosaur with a museum branded backpack on it. Last but not least, you and James get matching green dad hats with the museum name embroidered on the front.

flaunting the new merch, James leads the group (with you on his back) out the doors and back into the autumn air. Mary convinces a random woman to take a group picture of you all in front of the museum on her new camera. she excitedly hands the camera to Peter to take a picture of her and Lily in their matching t-shirts before taking it back and taking a picture of you and James with your hats. despite your protests, James won’t put you back down, but insists upon giving you a piggy-back ride all the way to the café he wanted to hit up before he left. 

he finally sets you down as you all enter the café. the orders are as follows: James gets one hot black coffee, Lily gets a chai latte, Marlene gets an iced green tea, Mary gets a hot earl gray tea, Peter gets an iced coffee, you get an iced matcha, and Sirius insists he isn’t thirsty but orders a chocolate chip muffin. drinks (and muffin) in hand, everyone wanders down the sidewalk towards the bookstore Remus likes which happens to be next to the antique shop Sirius enjoys. everyone splits up, Remus, you, James, and Lily entering the bookshop and the rest following Sirius. Remus and Lily disappear into the classics section while you wander towards fiction and fantasy. James follows you through the shelves, picking up random books and scanning over the synopsis before putting them back. you decide against getting anything and head outside while James checks in on Remus. eventually, James joins you and you both wait outside for everyone else to be done. 

tired from all your adventures, everyone decides to apparate back to Hogwarts (Remus a few books heavier). the evening ends with everyone sat in the common room talking around the fireplace, James next to you with your legs slung over his lap as you lay against the arm of the couch. 

“was that worth whatever punishment you might’ve gotten for going?” James teases to you, knowing damn well how much fun you had.

“shut up.” you retort back, not able to hide the smile on your face. James shifts a bit on the couch to grab something from Remus’ bag on the floor.

“oh yeah, got this for you,” he says casually as he hands you a hardcover book. it’s a book on the Orpheus and Eurydice myth. “figured you could figure out for yourself whether you’d turn around or not.” James’ smirk is unmistakable in the firelight. you’re not sure whether the heated feeling in your face is from the fire or from James. you flash him an appreciative smile.

“careful Prongs, someone might think you actually listen to me when i talk.” you half joke, looking over the book’s front pages. 

“who says i dont?”

[hocuspocusbabyy]

I’m sorry but just IMAGINE Eloise and Cressida as parents?!

Cressida would 100% be a full blown PTA mum, planning all the best events for her children’s school.

Eloise would inevitably be dragged along to help decorate and somehow end up agreeing the directing the school play - because she’s read the book a MILLION times! And “Couldn’t possibly let them butcher it.”

They’d have two daughters and a son. Aged, 5, 3 and 6 months. Lunet, Maeve and Benedict Jr.

Eloise would try sneaking treats that Cressida had baked for a fundraiser. Getting caught with frosting on her mouth, she swears blind to her wife she a no idea where it came from.

Cressida baking special cookies just for Eloise to eat! 😭

Eloise would read to the children every night, Cressida insisting she’s just there to tuck them in but ultimately sat across the bottom of the bed to listen too.

Cressida will often insist Eloise continues reading despite the fact the kids are already asleep, and they will have to reread that chapter again the next evening!

Uncle Benedict would love taking care of the children so their mothers may enjoy a walk or weekend alone 🥹 “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Though I suppose that doesn’t leave a lot.”

Uncle Colin and Aunt Pen would already arrive with an array of wonderful gifts. Eloise has a shelf of trinkets, many from Cressida and her family. Stemming from rocks, sea shells and pressed flowers to tiny figurines and bottles of sand from Colin’s travels.

Eloise secretly adores that Cressida insists on hanging Benedict’s painting’s in their home.

Eloise will often return home to Cressida and Violet sharing tea in the garden - Violet cannot go more than a few days without visiting her grandchildren.

Aunt Daphne and Cressida would take great pride in buying the children the cutest shoes and outfits - much to Eloise’s dismay when she finds her youngest in a ‘hideous’ bonnet. “Well what has she got this monstrosity on her head for? Oh my sweet girl don’t worry mummy will protect you from the taffeta.”

Eloise often getting emotional when spending time alone with her wife and children, free of any distractions. Forgoing her book to simple watch Cressida and their toddler play in the grass with wooden blocks.

Cressida tired at the breakfast table a child on either knee, as Elouise and their eldest read the newspaper out loud. Gently kissing their temples and stirring her tea.

Eloise and Cressida often indulging in a sneaky cigarette together at the end of a long week. Hidden out on the balcony to their room - their children fast asleep in the next room. Often shushing one another when their giggling threatens to wake them.

Eloise nearly having a ‘heart attack’ seeing her child on a horse for the first time, insisting her wife is insane and she’d prefer both ‘her girls’ back on the ground.

Cressida being the good cop, Eloise bad cop in many matters. I truly believe Cressida would be the biggest softy towards their children.

Eloise helping the children with their school work, whilst Cressida knits across the room (Cressida is utterly no help academically.)

Violet often insisting on taking the children for the evening because her home is simply ‘too big’ and Cressida and Eloise are ‘still young’.

Cressida and Eloise often opting to enjoy their meals in the form of picnic. Packing up the children to spend the evening down by the river.

Cressida rolling up her sleeves and teaching the children to skim stones.

Eloise sat waiting to aid them all in drying off when they’re done. The baby resting upon her chest.

Eloise often scolding Cressida more than the children, her wife simply brushing her off with terms of endearment or a kiss.

Cressida taking birthdays very seriously, waking up early to decorate the house. They keep Violets birthday hat tradition well alive. Eloise made her one their first birthday spent together and she still has it. Violet cried when they did the same for her.

The entire family often visit for long weekends and dinners - Eloise and Cressida opted to live in the country where there is more privacy and space for them.

[lululandd]

content;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 1177

warning: fluff, reader is into plants

notes: inspired by an instagram reel that @/myscprin sent (this fic is also on ao3)

summary: it started out with a stupid potted plant. 

Soap had drunkenly bought him one and would not stop whinging until he actually took it home. The man also had the audacity to ask him how the plant is doing, weeks after.

“Fine.” He lied. They were probably browning on his balcony, in a worse condition than he last saw them. It was funny; exciting even, to water the first couple days, having something easy to take care of, but then he saw signs of it not going to make it and subsequently avoided them entirely. Closed his blinds so he doesn’t have to see them die for good measure. The work call came immediately after, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to see it again for a couple months. He can just use work as an excuse next time Soap asks about the dead plant and be done with it.

But it wasn’t done with. Work took eight months, and gathering the courage to just step out to be greeted with a dirty balcony and a dead plant took two weeks extra. But it wasn’t dead. It was thriving. He might be remembering wrong—which is rare for him—but he could’ve sworn the pots were actual terracotta instead of stone painted to look like terracotta. Its leaves are supposed to be brown, or yellow, but they’re now different shades of red, some even resembling wine. Confused, he went back in and kept the blinds closed, joking to himself that maybe it just disliked seeing him, and was better off left alone.

Or so he thought.

The next day he came back to the balcony only to be greeted by a wet patch of floor, and droplets of water on the leaves. It didn’t rain at all yesterday, so either there's a leak that landed right where his plant sits, or someone watered his plants for him. His suspicions landed on the apartment above his neighbour’s, since they’re the only one with an abundance of plants on their balcony. Even though they shared fire escape stairs, and could easily come down to his portion of the balcony, he doubted they would walk down the stairs every single day just to water his plants. So he wanted to see how they did it. Perhaps just hose it from afar? Since they did horribly miss his pot today, from the evidence of excess water on the floor.

How mistaken he was.

It was a weekend, and as soon as he woke up and got his tea and digestives, he sat with his blinds barely open and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. Until he saw your figure, half covered by the curtains, waltzing right to his plant and watered it as if it was your own. You were there for at most two minutes before walking back upstairs and out of his line of sight.

This has to stop.

Quietly, he took the plant off the balcony and into the apartment, setting it down on an unoccupied dining chair. The plant might seem normal on the balcony, but indoors it looked out of place. It was as if his whole apartment felt smaller and devoid of colour as he stared at it.

Ghost was cleaning a shelf the next day when he heard a loud gasp outside. His reflexes got the better of him and opened the door to see the girl on her tippy toes looking down as if searching for something, and then turned back to look at him. They both stared at eachother like a deer in headlights, although in their heads they’re the deer and the other is the headlights.

Ghost was a deer for not taking good care of his plant, hiding it, and opening his balcony door in record time, and the girl was also a deer because she got caught going to someone else’s balcony to water said plant.

“Sorry, I—“ They both started at the same time.

“Oh, no, I’m sor—“ They started again.

The girl raised her free hand, “I’ll go first. I got scared that your plant fell or something. Sorry if I startled you.” As she said her gaze fell onto the plant in question sitting (unhappily) on the chair.

He looked back at it, “Brought it in to brighten up the place.” He lied. He didn’t even like it. He didn’t  like it being indoors, making his already measly living quarters feel even more barren. For some reason her face brightened.

“I have some plants that are easy to take care of, if you want more? I have some that doesn’t need sunlight that much so you can put it in th—“

“No.” What in bloody fuck was she thinking. Did she forget why she watered it in the first place? Is she daft? “Thanks. I go on work trips often.”

To his confusion her face brightened even more. “I can take care of them while you’re away, if you’d let me?”

Oh.

He had fallen right into her trap. Dead fucking centre. If he perceived her as an enemy he’d kill her there and then. But no part of his instincts or his sharpened mind saw her as one. It was his ego talking.

“Nah. You fancy him?” He pointed at the plant.

She shook her head, “I have no more space at mine.”

He went back and reached for it. “Tell you what. I’ll put this boy right back out here. And you can have half of my space for your shit. Sounds good?” 

Unfortunately for Ghost, the girl’s wide grin and sparkly doe eyes got burned in his mind for good. 

“You mean it?”

“Yeah.”

Work called him to Iceland not a week later and he spent the next few months barely seeing the sun. The country lacked sunlight, which was good for clandestine missions, but he could feel it took a toll on his mental health. Those artificial UV lights made his body feel better but his mind longed for the real deal. So that's why as soon as he got home he opened his curtains to its fullest to bask him and his apartment in some warmth. It took him about fifteen minutes to process what he was seeing. The girl really did take half his space. The space that made him rearrange his apartment layout completely so he could sit down on any chair and still have a view of said space. She had filled it to the best of her abilities while still making way for him to walk onto. Different plants with leaves of varying colours and sizes sat on colourful pots. He spent one morning just sitting there with his tea, trying to spot silly little frog statues half hidden underneath the growth.

It had been a while since he felt something other than dread when he got home, it was the first time in his shitty little apartment that he felt a smile creeping up his face, and it was the first time in what seemed to be forever that he felt.. content.

part 2

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Matthew Tkachuk Edition

SERIES MASTERLIST

yourusername

liked by matthew_tkachuk, _quinnhughes, and 9,156 others

yourusername welcome to my postgame penalty box show: panthers playoff hockey edition! the stars lost so i’m in full support of the rat— i mean matty t show! (i call matthew “matty t”) (since i was a freahman) (for those wondering)

matty t played a matthew tkachuk edition of a hat trick tonight— two misconducts and a goal! (peep the seventh side where he’s holding his stick, obviously showing off the one he just used to score to his team!) AND he broke his mouth guard, so he had to get a new one for the third, shot a rat to the boards that was thrown on the ice when he scored, got shoved into the knights’s net, and a got into a lil scrum! what a legend <3 (this autocorrected to leg day, but i fixed it!)

for those not counting: tonight, matty t got his third and fourth misconduct of the entire off season, and his second and third misconduct of this series! he has FOURTEEN total penalties of all types this off season! (rat) king shit!

me and quinny can’t wait to come see you play saturday! play very good for us! (and get into a fight for me please and thank you) and don’t murder stone! brady needs him for the wedding! and don’t get murdered! brady also needs you for the wedding!

i love you, matty t! ur my fav rat and i miss you❤️

tagged matthew_tkachuk

view all 191 comments

trevorzegras i’m not sure rat is a compliment

yourusername to him it is

matthew_tkachuk to me it is

yourusername see!

trevorzegras 🙄

user19 how did i not put together that y/n knows the tkachuks via quinn😭

yourusername wrong! i found him all by myself i’ve loved him from his london knights days!

_quinnhughes @/yourusername quit lying he was on the london knights the same time i was at ntdp which is WHEN YOU MET HIM

yourusername @_quinnhughes could you stfu and let me have my moment

matthew_tkachuk i miss and love you, too, lil mouse! we’ll get dinner when you two are here!

yourusername pst can i sleep over?

matthew_tkachuk i thought that was obvious

_quinnhughes @/matthew_tkachuk she needs constant reassurance she’s not intruding

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername of course you can sleep over, lil mouse!

yourusername YAY

colecaufield @/yourusername you used to just show up and announce that you were staying in my room and suddenly you need permission?

yourusername @/colecaufield was your entire family there? didn’t think so. i respect chantal too much

user22 DO SISSY AND MATTHEW CALL EACH OTHER RAT AND MOUSE THAT’S SO CUTE

taryntkachuk i miss you, girly! i can’t wait to see you this weekend!

yourusername i can’t wait to shoo the boys away for gossip time

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername you’re supposed to spend time with me

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk don’t worry, rat! i’ll beat you in chel and then have gossip time <3

jackhughes hey remember when you fell over the couch because you were sending heart eyes to matthew freshman year?

yourusername hey remember when you died?

jackhughes i haven’t died???

yourusername not yet

trevorzegras @/yourusername what did we talk about?

yourusername @/trevorzegras that i can’t murder jack until after the wedding because you need him as a groomsman

trevorzegras @/yourusername there’s my sweet girl

jackhughes @/trevorzegras i’m not sure that classifies as “sweet”

trevorzegras @/jackhughes that’s the best i can offer

user12 let’s play “who’s y/n’s least favorite hughes?”

yourusername it’s still quinn

user47 at this point i’m going to assume sissy is friends with half the league

yourusername about 1/16th of the league, actually! i did the math myself

used82 I WANNA TALK ABOUT THE FOURTH PIC

lhughes_06 hey remember when you used to tell z you’d leave him for matty whenever he pissed you off?

trevorzegras hey remember when you died?

yourusername @/trevorzegras hey! don’t talk to your future step son/bother-in-law like that!

lhughes_06 @/trevorzegras yeah don’t talk to me like that, future step dad/brother-in-law!

yourusername hey remember when you died?

lhughes_06 i should’ve expected that

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 you walked right into that one

matthew_tkachuk i didn’t know about this one but i’m honored

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk the statement still stands

trevorzegras @/yourusername stop giving me war flashbacks

barkovsasha i’m confused. do you want him to get misconducts or not?

yourusername you’re clearly new here

matthew_tkachuck the answer is both

yourusername i’m an enigma

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername you’re something

user8 so much new sissy lore

_quinnhughes hey remember when you said that you’re rooting for matthew unless it’s panthers vs stars in the final and in that case “he can slip on a rat thrown on the ice and choke”

yourusername idk what you’re talking about i always support my friends

jackhughes i have it on video (you root for all of our downfalls against the stars)

yourusername @/jackhughes it’s a sin to lie, jacky boy (and i’ll continue to do so)

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername you’re so sweet to me

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk i know! i didn’t even wish you’d die🥰

trevorzegras @/matthew_tkachuk that’s big for her

[bitchin-beskar]

Sorry shamless asking for another one. Only if you wanna answer.

Either 141 boys or Paz ( or all ) not quite thot.

Their proposal style.

💍

Happy weekend!

do I wanna answer????

you bet ur ass i do goddamn

I'll do a little proposal style for college!athlete!roommate!paz if ya'll want, but I'll answer this ask specifically for our 141 boys (plus alejandro and rudy bc ofc)

Task Force 141 + Alejandro Vargas & Rodolfo Parra and Proposal Style

Captain John Price

I hc that Price has a love of old things. I think he loves antiques, history, collectibles, etc. I think his flat is filled with memorabilia shit from WWI and WWII, classic novels he finds at garage sales and thrift book shops that are well worn and well loved, things with history and a past, things that mean something.

So, I think when he's going to propose, he's got the ring picked out, something he found in a pawn shop or thrift store, something that's old and beautiful, full of meaning and history. Of course, if it needs repairing, or new setting, he'll do what he needs to, make sure that it's clean and polished and that it suits you. He just likes sharing these little bits of history that have fascinated him for his entire life with you, and to put one of those little bits of history on your finger and swearing to love you for eternity? He loves it.

For reference, I imagine the ring Price finds looks something like this:

For the actual proposal, he's not going to make a big, public spectacle. He's always a little more uncomfortable in crowded places, due to his years as active military, he's a paranoid bastard by nature, and besides, this is supposed to be a happy, special occasion and something he wants to be fully engaged in, not distracted trying to analyze potential threats to your safety.

You're probably at home, in the flat you share with him. He'll make dinner, nothing super fancy, but a comfort meal that both of you love. It's not overly fancy or romantic, but it's thoughtful and sweet and everything that you love about him. He'd wanted to wait until after you'd both eaten, and were maybe cuddled up on the couch in front of the fire, but as he's putting the leftovers away, and you're elbow deep in sudsy water, rinsing the dishes, he finds he physically cannot wait a second longer.

He drops to a knee, the quiet utterance of your name barely heard over the rushing sink water, but you throw a "Yes, John?" over your shoulder. When he doesn't say anything, you turn to look and realise what's happening.

Of course, the two of you have talked about it before, after you'd been settled in a relationship for a few years, talking about the future and what you both wanted, but you'd had no idea when he was planning to propose, so the act itself is shock. You don't even shut off the water, falling to your own knees in front of him, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as you whisper "yes" against his mouth before you kiss him.

He reluctantly pulls away from your kiss, only to slide the ring onto your finger, before he pulls the both of you to your feet. Shutting off the water is the extent of the cleaning that you finish, deciding as you stumble to the bedroom that the rest of the dishes can wait until after the two of you have had some time to celebrate.

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley

I think that for the longest time, Ghost truly believed he'd never marry. At first, it was just a matter of not having met anyone he'd want to spend the rest of his life with, but over time and missions, scars and torments, blood and secrets, Ghost decided that he'd never find someone who'd be able to love all of him, that he was only good for the harsh things in life, never the soft.

So, it's a huge surprise when he meets you and realises months into knowing you that he's fallen, and he's fallen hard. He meets you in the most mundane of places, like a coffee shop, an interaction that should just be a one off, but one that repeats with enough regularity that the cold, stone muscle that functions as his heart begins to beat faster with excitement at the anticipation of seeing you.

You remember him, greet him with a soft smile whenever you see him, never seeming to be put off by the fact that he never removes his balaclava. You'll ask him how he's doing, but you don't seem to mind that his answers are usually a fraction of the syllables. He's used to his size intimidating others, but you never seem to mind that he's roughly the size of a tank.

I think it's like pulling teeth to get him to admit his feelings, but when he finally does, the two of you fall into a relationship like you were built for each other. It's easy, far easier than the rest of his life, and for the first time, he finds himself dreading longer missions, because he's actually got someone to come home to.

That being said, I think when he proposes, it's not something planned. Maybe something happens at home, where you are, the danger not being something he'd thought to worry about. Maybe there was a robbery, maybe someone attacked your workplace with a gun, and when Ghost sees it on the news, because Johnny's there saying "Dinnae ya say somethin' 'bout ya girl workin' there, Ghost?", he panics.

Price gets him on the first flight home, and Ghost is bursting into your flat with an urgency he's not felt outside the battlefield, even though it's the dead of night and you're fast asleep in your bed. He doesn't miss a beat, shedding the worst of his tac gear and crawling onto the bed, wrapping his arms and legs around you even as you stir awake, burying his face in your neck as his heartbeat finally begins to slow.

You seem to know why he's here, why he's like this, because you don't say anything, just simply wrap your own arms around him, tugging off his mask and running your fingers through his sweaty, tousled hair. Your other hand presses in between his shoulder blades, dwarfed by the massive size of his torso, but still a grounding touch.

It takes him a long time to speak, longer than usual, and when he finally does, it's to whisper against your skin that he wants to marry you, like a sinner at confessional, begging absolution from the Priest of God.

You still underneath him, definitely not expecting that to be what he says, but it's like the dam has burst, and he can't seem to stop. He tells you about how scared he was when he'd heard, a fear he hasn't felt since he was young, unscarred and unknowing of the horrors of humanity. He'd known that you meant a lot to him, but the thought of losing you had shaken him more than he'd thought possible. He whispers that he can't give you much, he knows that, but he wants to give you his name, and a promise that he'll love you as best he can, for as long as he's got on this earth.

Your body is shaking under him, and he starts to pull back, worried he's crossed a line, but you're sobbing, silent and desperate, even as you tug him up and seal your lips against his. He sinks into your kiss, tears he's been holding back finally falling too. You whisper back that yes, yes dammit you want to marry him, and you don't care about him giving you anything other than his love.

In the morning, the two of you go to a jewelry store, and pick out matching bands, simple silver rings with no gemstones or embellishments. You get them engraved, on the inside where the metal rests against your skin, his name on yours and your name on his, to carry each other when you're apart.

Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish

For Soap, I think he buys the ring within the first month of dating. Some (most) might call him eager, maybe childish in his hope, but Soap is an excellent judge of character. He's never once been wrong, his gut instinct always telling him the measure of those he meets, and so when he starts dating you, he knows very quickly that you're the one he's gonna spend the rest of his life with.

People tend to assume he's a fuckboy, likely due to his flirtatious tendencies. He knows what others think of him, and for the most part, it doesn't bother him. However, it takes him far longer than he'd like to convince you that he's actually interested, because of how flirtatious he can be, you think he's just like that with everyone.

Honestly, Price has to pull you aside and tell you to put the poor boy outta his misery by either going out with him, or not. You're very stunned, because it's honestly been torture for you to be around him because you're very into him, but were convinced that he just saw you as a friend. Price just shakes his head and calls you both muppets.

When you're together, it's the happiest the both of you have ever been. Your sense of humour compliments each others, you always have so much fun together, it's honestly the time of your life. You miss him terribly when he's gone, but Soap has a habit of leaving little slips of paper with jokes and puns written on them around the apartment, a little surprise for you to find and to remind you that he's always thinking of you when he's gone.

Soap's proposal happens somewhat spontaneously. He's come home from a long op, and the two of you haven't left the bed in damn near twenty-four hours. He's lounging on the pillows, with you tucked under his arm, ear over his heart and left hand resting on his bare chest. His own hand covers yours, his thumb stroking over the skin of your fourth finger, a habit he's picked up lately.

Finally, he pipes up, voice thick with his Scottish accent, and asks what you'd think about marryin' him.

At first, you think he's joking, because as much as you love him, you'd never really thought he might be the marrying type. He carries the air of a free spirit, one who operates best not tied to anything or anyone. You joke a bit about how he needs a ring at least before he thinks about proposing, only for him to reach over and open the drawer on his nightstand, pulling out a small velvet box and popping it open before your wide and startled eyes.

"Whaddya think, bonnie?" He husks, voice clear and nonchalant even as his eyes betray his nerves. "Think you'd be willin' ta tie yourself ta me for the rest 'o our lives?"

You pluck the gold band from the crushed velvet, slipping it onto your finger even as tears fill your eyes. You stare at it on your hand for a long moment, before you look up to see Soap still watching you, hope blooming desperately in his gaze, even as he tries to reign it in.

"You damn foolish scot," you mutter, cupping his face and bringing him down to kiss him. "There'll never been anyone else."

Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Ok so maybe this is a hot take but I chose to believe that Gaz is actually already married by the time of COD: MWII. No one knows. Not even Price. He marries his childhood best friend the minute they're both 18, and they've been together even longer.

ANYWAYS

Like I said, childhood best friends, so they were always together, all throughout school, hanging out in the afternoons, sleepovers on weekends, the whole shebang. Your parents and his called it early on that the two of you would end up together, but even they were a little surprised at the speed of which you got married. But, to none of their surprise, your marriage was one of the strongest they'd ever seen.

You knew each other's faults, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and your favorite things about each other, it only made sense for you to trip over the line between friendship and relationship sometime around when you were maybe 12 years old.

Even before then, when the two of you were maybe 7 or 8, you made a pact that you'd get married as soon as you could. As a promise, Gaz gets you a ring like this, from a cheap coin vending machine in the local grocery store:

It's a running joke in the family, that he decided when he first saw you that he was gonna marry you, although they don't really realize just how true that is.

On the night of graduation, after you've finished celebrating with your families, you and Gaz are holed up in your childhood bedroom. Your 18th birthday is in a week, Gaz's was a month ago. Your wearing the ring he'd given you damn near a decade ago on a chain around your neck, and his eyes fall to where it lays nestled between your breasts, even as he draws a small box from his pocket.

"Figured it was time to upgrade, eh, love?"

The rose gold band sparkles in the lamplight, and there's a huge grin on your face as you take the band from him. There's a large diamond in the center, but not too large as to be gaudy or flashy. Just enough to make a statement, a declaration.

"In a week," Gaz says, voice hush with anticipation. "Lets go to the courthouse, and I'll give you the matching one. What'cha say?"

"The same thing I said when we were eight, Kyle," you murmur, eyes unable to leave the pretty ring on your finger. "Yes."

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro is really damn hesitant to propose, mostly because of how at risk any of his family is with his history of fighting the cartel. Anyone with a connection to him is another way to hurt him, and to ask you to go into hiding, cut off most all contact with any outside friends? He's afraid, he doesn't want you to begin to regret being with him, he's seen the toll being in hiding has taken of the marriages of some of his Vaqueros, and it would kill him to lose you.

It takes you a long time to convince him that even if you don't get married, you're not going anywhere. You love him, and damn anyone who tries to come between that, cartel or otherwise.

The final push for Alejandro to propose is similar to Ghost's. He's working when he gets the news that the cartel has attacked the area you live in, and that there are multiple reported civilian deaths, although names aren't confirmed. He's terrified, and Rudy has to physically push him out of the compound to go, to try and get to you.

When he gets there, no one has seen you, and Alejandro can feel his stomach churning, his heart is in his throat. He was such a damn fool, he waited too long, and now he's never going to get to marry you, to call you his wife, to know what it feels like to wear a symbol of your love and devotion every day until he dies.

He hears your voice calling his name, and the pure relief he feels makes him dizzy with it, his knees going weak. He hoarsely calls your name, and your body slams into his, your arms wrapping tightly around him as if you could hold him together by pure will alone.

The rush of police and other Vaqueros around him fade into the background as he sinks into your embrace, whispering prayers and thanks and words of love in Spanish in your ear, kissing the top of your head repeatedly from where you've tucked your face against the base of his neck.

The next day, the two of you go to a small local jewelers, and pick out matching rings. Your next stop is the courthouse, with Rudy as your witness.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

Like Gaz, Rudy gets married young. He marries you shortly before he and Alejandro enlist in the army, because you'd pinned him with a glare one day and said if he died and you were going to mourn as his widow, you damn well were going to be his wife first.

Alejandro is thrilled when he hears, because he'd been telling Rudy to marry you for weeks, ever since he'd aired his concerns. (Rudy retaliates viciously when Alejandro is hesitating to propose to his wife).

He proposes to you with the ring his mamá had been given by his father, which she'd given to him when he told her he was going to propose to you. She'd given it to her son with tears in her eyes and very softly told him that if he got married without her there, no one would find his body.

You laughed yourself silly when Rudy told you what his mamá said, although that laughter cut off when you realised which ring he was giving you. You broke down in his mother's arms later, swearing to her that you'd treasure her ring and love Rudy the same way his father had lover her, and she simply cupped your cheek and told you that was all she'd ever ask.

It wasn't a necessarily memorable proposal, Rudy just coming home one day after visiting his mamá and bending the knee, but you'd prefer it to anything else, because it was so quintessentially Rodolfo.

Interestingly, because Rudy is married through his time in the military, he doesn't know at first that it'd be wiser to keep it a secret. When they find out Valería is El Sin Nombre, he's not quite sure what to think, because she definitely knew about you, and who you were to Rudy, but she never acted on it. It's probably just another facet of the twisted mind games she plays, but he's not sure. He tries not to think about it.

[hollysoda]

Okay so I know that totk turned one year old a couple of days ago but I was away for the weekend and didn’t get a chance to post something about it. Now I’m home again, I think I wanna just put some thoughts down

Firstly, I still love totk. It was a really fun game and had just as much fun playing through it complete blind as I did playing botw with only a loose knowledge of the game. In fact, I enjoyed it more than botw. Maybe it was because I knew more about Zelda than what I did back in September 2022 when I first played botw, or maybe it was because I could see the improvements they made when it came to dungeons and overall exploration. For at least six months totk was my favourite zelda game. Now, a year on, it isn’t.

I think on reflection totk is a very flawed game. While it is technically genius, story-wise it’s incredibly weak, possibly the weakest in the entire franchise. Here are a few points worth mentioning:

Why bother bringing back Ganondorf if he isn’t going to have any real motive? Is there a reason why he’s fighting with Rauru and seeking his own secret stone, or is he just doing it for funsies? Part of the reason why Wind Waker Ganondorf is so good is because he has a strong and clear motive. Without any motive, totk Ganondorf just feels like an enemy rather than a main antagonist

The main thing that drives forward a story is a theme to take away from it. Breath of the Wild’s theme was exploration and lost memories, Skyward Sword’s theme was loyalty and/or devotion, but it’s hard to tell what totk’s theme is. Sacrifice could be the outstanding one, seeing as both Zelda and Rauru make crucial sacrifices for the sake of Hyrule, but where else is it seen in the story? Totk just tries too many things, and having a clear theme would just help to solidify things

For a game that was supposed to solve the mystery of who the Zonai were it sure did a poor job at doing so. I absolutely adore the Zonai and in my opinion Rauru and Mineru’s designs as some of the coolest in the entire franchise but my god. Their lore is so underdeveloped it hurts. We know the bare minimum about their civilisation and culture. We still don’t know why they died off, why they built the labyrinths (and by extension who the Lord of dragons/owls/boars are), why they have secret stones in the first place, why is the Temple of Time in the sky when it was originally on the ground and most importantly why is draconification a forbidden act. If you’re gonna imply that the three dragons introduced in botw were once people then tell us!! Totk deserved a dlc that could explain all of this and not leave us in the unknown

Saying that the Sheikah technology just “disappeared” is an absolutely awful way of saying “uh yeah we never thought about that”. That’s some god awful world-building and planning on the developers behalf. Even if they just said that after the Calamity it lost its magic and then parts of it were repurposed for new technology, like the Skyview towers, it would be so much more believable. The Divine Beasts should have at least been in the game somewhere, perhaps in the depths. The lack of Sheikah tech makes the game feel so disjointed from botw, and makes totk feel as though it’s only a sequel because it has the same characters in it

The ending of the game just doesn’t sit right with me. Why bother having Mineru beg Zelda not to swallow her secret stone if in the end she would be able to turn back into a human. I understand the developers want a happy ending but at least let there be consequences. Let Zelda’s memory be a bit hazy or give her dragon features like many artists have done and let Link permanently be an amputee

Also the Ancient Hero angers me. I’ve got no problems with him not being a hylian because honestly it makes it wayy more interesting knowing that not every hero was hylian, but just explain why. If he’s some sort of Zonai, why doesn’t he look like Rauru and Mineru? Is he some sort of hybrid or a different breed of Zonai? And why does the tapestry depict him as a hylian if he’s not? Seems like an oversight more than anything

I think I should stop there because this post is getting long but uh TL;DR totk could have been a phenomenal game if they spent more time planning out the storyline and fleshing out lore. I get it, the game was originally botw dlc, but after so many delays we at least deserved a better story.

I do still love this game though Tears of the Dragon goes HARD

[july-19th-club]

having THE most insane type of scrupulosity situation going on right now which is that. ok for background. i grew up catholic as many know and round about college stopped going to services regularly. and even when i was a kid and therefore obligated to be religious i never had any strong beliefs about it. so i'm the lapsed catholic's lapsed catholic - steeped enough in the cultural mindset to have issues but with no odd hangups about whether god exists (i just don't think he does). so for the past ten twelve years or so the only time i've been to mass has been when i'm with the family for some function or occasion and i've been obligated to go, and due to my general atheism i've never had this huge urge to seek out different kinds of organized religion. i'm intrigued by the reform jewish philosophy but not intrigued enough to formally attempt to join another ritualized congregation etc. but this has been a very trying year and my mother has been on me about Going To Church and i said yeah sure yeah might be a good idea. but i'm not going to YOUR church because i cannot sit through one of your boss's masses and feel anything other than the need to argue theology with him (she is the parish finance wrangler, so priest is her boss. same priest who in 2016 drove my fourth grade teacher to leave the parish entirely bc of his 1st week of november sermon about how you're betraying the Cause (aka antiabortion. that was the only cause) by not voting trump). ANYWAY. so i'm not going to that church. and the only church in my area that i could find that has what i'm looking for which is to say no christian god PER SE is the local Unitarian Universalist around the park from my job. bit of a drive on a day when i don't normally go anywhere but whatever. and on their website it says their summer services are Themed (this year's Theme is The Creative Spirit) and what the service seems to consist of mostly is a bit of drumming and a Chalice (i don't think you drink from it. i think it's ceremonial). and like. folks talkin'. and that's it! which is my ISSUE. like...it seems to EASY. like what i just go there and it's like a weekend class up at chautauqua where some hippie gets enthused about the spirit for a bit and then you leave feeling like you had a fun time but not like, a religiously challenging one? like, is that allowed? is this allowed? like it feels like it doesn't COUNT you know what i mean? like that's not church that's a free music class with a demographic (middle aged ladies who enjoy a good crystal store). what am i supposed to do with THAT. it's too EASY!

the next loosest church is the episcopal one next door to my job. oldest church in the diocese, beautiful dark stone, red door, the works. never been inside but due to its proximity to my work and the great architecture i have had a lot of dreams about what i imagine its interior to look like. this church is like catholic lite as a friend (who i did meet at chautauqua also) once described it. they have a sermon and some prayers and what is called a Healing something after the mass. which i guess is not a mass, it's just a service, huh, because only catholic churches have masses. between where i live and the town where i work are like thirty miles of small "nondenominational" protestant cult churches who are all salivating for new members, which is obviously out of the question. and i'm like in this quandry okay.

which is insane. i feel like i SHOULD go to the episcopal church because a) they said they have some kind of health prayer and i have been particularly concerned with my health over the last month or two which is part of why i'm so stressed i feel the need to go to church, and if i go to the place without the healing prayer i may not have good health. which is obviously a buck wild thought but not one i can easily let go of now that i've had it. and b) because it sounds like Church. like you go there and you say some hail marys, presumably, or something similar, and a guy gets up in a robe and says his opinions on something which you don't really agree with but you sit through it anyway and try not to be too visibly upset when he he hauls off with something really messed up. and then afterward he lays on his hands or something. and maybe this church would NOT have a guy who hauls off with messed up stuff in the homily. maybe he really does accept everybody and pray for peace and all that. maybe so. maybe my biases and my fears are steering me here. and that's the other thing because the UU thing sounds FUN. church is not really intended to be fun in my imagination. it's an obligation that you fulfill in order to get good fortune out of it if you are polite enough to god in the process. even though every religious person i've ever spoken to describes god and grace as non-transactional, the culture tells me that it absolutely IS: when you're low on good emotional stuff or you want some boon you think is ungettable, they'll say 'go to church'. which indicates that there's some transaction taking place, no, that you attend and THEN you receive blessing. blessing does not get to you unless you fulfill your end of a bargain which includes acquiescing to the church itself. the Fun Spiritual Experience sounds too fun to get you that. like i would go and have fun, but would my life get better? would i regret it because it felt like i was wasting time when i needed to be going to a place where i could get a guarantee that i would be healthy during a busy work week which is all i really want right now, to be healthy this week so i don't disrupt the workflow when everybody's schedules are out of whack? it feels like going somewhere just to have fun does NOT net you that. you have to go to a place that does not give you fun and you have to submit to the rigors. or there's no exchange, there's no offering taking place, is there? you're just indulging yourself, at which point you might as well stay home

[dangerous-disposition]

WIP Weekend Accountability Pt. 1 of 3

So, for WIP weekend, I posted a poll about which of my Big WIPs I should focus on for the weekend and this was the result of that poll

I decided I would write for all 3 obviously, and post snippets with word counts based on the number of votes they got. Here are the snippet word counts:

ANYWAY TO THE FIRST SNIPPET

romcom!AU

It wasn’t like Steve was pressed for time, seeing as he had nine days left of what was supposed to be a romantic vacation with his girlfriend of seven years turned fiancée. Nine days until he returned home to an empty apartment, one that he had never lived in alone before. Nine days until he was back in a bed that he had only ever shared with Nancy, nine days until he was sleeping in the vibrant, loudly-patterned sheets Nancy bought because she thought Steve would like them. He did, very much so, but now the thought of climbing into them single made him feel sick.

Taking the little, white satin box out of his pocket, Steve placed it on the bar and stared at it. How did he fuck it up so badly? It wasn’t like he was just deciding to spring a proposal on Nancy out of nowhere, and it wasn’t like this vacation was a surprise either. This had been months in the planning.

The ring itself took months of shopping to pick the perfect one; a simple silver band, with the stone inset so it wouldn’t catch on anything when Nancy was working, with engraved vines along the flat surface. They had talked about their future, and Steve had said he saw her as part of it and she agreed. They had been together for six years at that point, they lived together for five of those. Steve had moved to New York with her for her career and everything.

When the opportunity came up, he and Nancy discussed it and what it would mean for them as a couple. Steve loved the school where he taught history back in Indiana, loved the students and they loved him. Leaving them was gut-wrenching, but the way he figured it, he could teach history anywhere, that amazing students existed everywhere. The kind of opportunity that Nancy made happen for herself was once-in-a-lifetime.

Plus, being in New York meant he was closer to his parents which was a nice bonus, even if that opened Steve up for his dad prodding him to leave teaching entirely again.

Teaching in New York was completely different than what Steve was used to, though. The classes were bigger, the funding somehow less, and the students were jaded. Steve still did his best by them, and he definitely believed he was making a difference, even if it was just with a handful of the kids, but he could feel himself plummeting to a burn-out within a year and a half of moving.

The kicker about all of it? The vacation had started as Nancy’s idea.

Tagging the buddies I think'll wanna see this the most: @patchworkgargoyle @scarcrossdlvrs @indigohightide @steddieas-shegoes @steve-harringtits @mylilplanet @afewproblems @xenon-demon @inairbinad @matchingbatbites @starryeyedjanai @sidekick-hero @stobinesque @spicysix @thefreakandthehair

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Was my mother's birthday today. Spent the weekend making her a video as a gift, today went to her friend's house after work for a birthday celebration. Tomorrow after work have to go perform ten minutes of stand-up for the first time (have previously only done six). Have a document full of ideas for stuff to try beyond my six minutes, just need to sit down and map out a plan. Had several hours to do that tonight. But also have to go this weekend to the junior and senior national championships that are being hosted in my city this year, a few years ago that would have meant months of hard work on my part, I've now stepped back from the sport so much that I wasn't even part of the prep, I just need to show up. There's the competition, and then also my first ever teammate/training partner, whom I started training with in 2005, has recently retired from competition, which doesn't normally warrant a national event but it does for her because she had a massive career that included a gold medal at the Rio Olympics, so on Friday they're doing a ceremony before the finals at the championship to honour her, and then a social at the bar after that of course I'm looking forward to because she lives across the country now so I haven't seen her in ages but I love her and want to be there to celebrate her, but also that event will be full of coaches and athletes and refs that I used to see all the time and now barely see, due to my stepping back from the sport, about which I feel very conflicted and find very emotionally difficult, so I'll just go confront that all weekend, partly at a bar, while I'm still trying to avoid drinking though to be honest I've slipped a few times in the last few weeks.

And these are the few hours that I was supposed to spend mapping out my stand-up set plan, but every time I look at the page I become overwhelmed with 1) the idea that I've happened to come up with a few funny things but everything else I might think of would be embarrassingly terrible, and 2) I did stuff on the weekend and then more stuff today and then there will be stuff tomorrow and then stuff Friday and then stuff all weekend and it's too much stuff and I can't think about any of it.

Thought of how John Robins occasionally explains that "If I have to think about four things at once I'll curl up in a corner instead of thinking about any of them and then tomorrow there will be five things." Decided to throw on the radio show to distract myself. I'm into March 2018, when John Robins is the middle of his large tour during which he filmed Darkness of Robins. The first few months of 2018 on that radio show is just documenting John Robins having a breakdown; at first he said he'd do dry January then says no because touring is too stressful, comes in tired and a bit sick one week then full on tonsillitis and can hardly talk then keeps getting sick with other things and explaining that he's not sleeping then turns up to an episode an hour late because he forgot it was happening, reports that he's lost a stone from stress, then takes a couple weeks off and gets replaced by James Acaster, comes back the next week with fresh anecdotes about having a cry in a hotel room, entirely because there were too many things going on and had to do too many things in a row. I was looking forward to getting to the era of this show when I find out what happens when you win a Perrier Award, and now I know. You significantly expand your tour at the beginning of the following year due to increased demand, and then have a breakdown due to increased having to do things on multiple days in a row.

This is the saga I jump back into as my distraction, listen to him explain how touring is still wildly stressing him out, and I thought, this sounds familiar except that I've been paralyzed by the stress of a ten-minute open mic set in a way that feels relatable when he discusses the stress of like a 68-date tour. Then I thought, to be fair, John Robins is not doing quite a stressful job all day involving constant human interaction. It's the constant human interaction. I need to not have that. I also need to have a better idea for stuff to say in a pub tomorrow. And preferably a brain that can think about four things at a time without short circuiting.

Also I have scratches all over my hands because a kid had a meltdown at work. He stood up, screamed, cried, hit himself, fucked up my hands, and then I played him some Lynn Miles and he very slowly calmed down. I tried to change the song but he used his very small verbal repertoire to say "play that again" so I just kept it on repeat. If you ever see someone have a meltdown, try this song:

Some scratches on my hand are not actually a big deal, I don't mind that. It's the look in his eyes when he does it. He doesn't want to hurt me. It's so clear that he's just truly desperate to make it stop and thinks tearing something apart might help and is willing to try anything. I'd let him do it as much as he wanted if 1) I thought it would actually help, and 2) it weren't very dangerous to teach a kid - a kid who will one day grow up to be a black man who has a disability that causes him to make strange noises and barely be able to communicate and not understand the rules and sometimes get uncontrollably upset in public, that it's okay to grab people and dig your nails in when you get upset. Our goal with his therapy is mainly to make sure he doesn't grow up to do the wrong thing to the wrong person in public and get badly hurt. I get very scared when I think what might happen if he's still responding to stress by grabbing people once he's too big to be cute.

See, you can't make jokes about that. Not in ten minutes, anyway. Maybe a highly emotional Edinburgh hour. But I can't make jokes about that, and everything funny that does happen at my job is protected by medical confidentiality anyway. It's not fair, other comedians have jobs with amusingly stupid clients and things like that. What am I supposed to talk about? I mean I've got a Word document but I'm looking at it and I don't think I've ever had a good idea in my entire life. And I still can't think about more than one thing at a time.

...New Taskmaster date's exciting though. Pretty hyped about that. Taskmaster! March 28! They've all gone big on costumes! Let's fucking go!

I am actually fine, by the way. I made some posts earlier in 2024 about how I was in mental health crisis, which was true then, I just want to clarify that I'm not in that now. I'm just overwhelmed because I've been asked to do more than like two things at a time and I possibly should start leaving some of my anxiety meds at my mother's house so I don't just skip the nights when I stay here. I'll feel a lot better after my set tomorrow. I had a stressful fucking week last week too, for reasons that have nothing to do with any of this, so that doesn't help. This is really making me remember why I hated university so much, though. I don't do well with homework.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

A Swallow's Symphony In Spring (3/19)

Chapter 3 - Hear the Trumbling in the Stone

<- Previous | Masterpost | Next ->

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Warnings: General talk about the mistreatement of a whole lot of people.

Word Count: 3261

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Roman hated rain.

Sure, it was pretty. He liked to watch the rain from his window, seeing the sheets of water coming down over the mountains that the palace backed onto. He wished he could see in the direction of the city from here, but his tower didn’t have windows on that side. Roman liked to watch the rain, but really all it meant was that he was trapped even more. 

A weekend’s worth of rain meant no going outside now. His training was cancelled because the grounds were too muddy to spar on, he already had no lessons today and he was entirely bored of staying in his room already. Just about every free minute he’d had since Wynter got here he’d spent in his room, and when he couldn’t stand that he went to the garden. Now that he was hoping to befriend Wynter - or at least not be on unfriendly terms - he thought maybe he should actually get back to his old routine. 

After spending hours watching raindrops race down the stained glass of his windows, he decided to venture toward the library.

Twice he knocked on Wynters door before it was opened. Usually it only took one knock and a few seconds to get his attention, this time it took a second knock and another minute before Wynter opened the door with a tired expression and messy hair. The sight made Roman smile - had he been sleeping in?

They stared at each other for a moment before Roman nodded and waved for him to follow with a small, knowing smile. 

“So, uh… where are we going today, Sire?” Wynter spoke up as they walked, Roman was a little started. Virgil rarely spoke at all, let alone to ask him a question, he hoped that was a good sign, 

“The library,” Roman answered with a small smile - he hoped Wynter wouldn’t mind it. “I fear I may go insane if I stay in my room watching the rain on my window all day.”

“I uh- I didn’t expect you to leave your room today…” Wynter mumbles from behind him, so quietly that Roman almost didn’t hear him.

Roman couldn’t help but chuckle, “Is that why you look like you just got out of bed?”

It seemed that his attempt at a joke didn’t land when Wynter just scowled at him. Roman felt sufficiently cowed, looking forward once again. He had tried to joke - but he supposed it was just bad timing, or maybe he didn’t know Wynter well enough for that yet. He sighed as he walked - he really had no idea how this worked, did he?

He took a long time deciding what to read when they finally arrived at the library. Their supply of fictional works was small enough that Roman had read them all already, however he was always glad to reread his favourites. Wynter just stood there awkwardly as he sat down on one of the plush sofas in the room. It was a little weird, Roman wasn’t used to having company whilst he read, so having someone practically lurking over Roman’s shoulder as he did was a little off putting. 

Eventually, he turned to look up at him, “Wynter,” he said without looking up, “I can hardly read with you looming over my shoulder like that.”

“I- I’m sorry,” Wynter immediately apologised, Roman turned to him upon hearing the stutter in his voice, he narrowed his eyes a little - was he paler than normal? “It’s not like I can leave, though.”

Sighing, Roman marked his page and closed his book, turning to face Virgil properly in his chair, “Why not at least sit with me? Or grab a book, they’re free to read?”

“I assumed I wouldn’t be allowed to sit with you, Your Highness,” Wynter said, tone hesitant - that might have been the first time he’d heard him not sound confident. He doesn’t comment on the offer to read, though, maybe he wasn’t a big fan of reading. 

“I suppose on a technicality you should remain standing, but…” Roman takes another look at him, he was pretty sure Wynter was shaking, “...Are you alright, Wynter? You look sick.”

“I’m okay, Your Highness,” Wynter said, shaking his head. Roman wasn’t convinced in the slightest. “I’m pretty sure I’m not sick, at least?”

Even Wynter sounded like he wasn’t sure. Sighing, Roman reached out to pat the empty space on the sofa beside him. “I think it would be best if you sat, Wynter.”

Wynter stared at him for a long moment, doubt clear in his expression, before eventually - and with more hesitance than Roman thought he’d ever seen, he sat down. Roman watched his guard close his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, sink back into the sofa and actually relax, almost as if he’d forgotten Roman was even there at all. 

“So- are you sick?” Roman asks eventually, Wynter jolted back into his more guarded position, sat up and staring straight at Roman like he’d been caught. His eyes darted back and forth as Roman watched him, clearly panicking - and from how close he was now Roman could see that Wynter was indeed paler than normal - and he was normally quite pale. 

When he didn’t get a response for a long while, Roman sighed and placed his book down on the table in front of him, electing to fold his hands neatly in his lap instead. “Okay, look,” Roman said, taking a deep breath, he didn’t know if this would work, but he thought it might help, “I know I’ve been - unpleasant - towards you, in the last two weeks, But I’ve come to the realisation that it is not your fault that I’m stuck being tailed all day - it’s just… your job, it’s not as though you orchestrated this situation.”

Wynter seemed to double take, glancing around the room as if to check that no-one was watching - like someone was going to jump out and tell him this was a joke, only serving to make Roman feel worse about how he’d treated Wynter so far. 

“What I’m saying is - I apologise for the way I’ve been treating you, Wynter,” he said. 

“I… accept your apology, Your Highness,” Wynter said to Roman’s honest surprise - was it really that easy? He’d expected… what had he expected? He’d expected to have to fight for the apology, give a whole speech on why Wynter should let him off, why he didn’t deserve… well, that was how it always was with his parents.

“You- really?” Roman asked, genuinely taken aback. Wynter huffed.

“I mean - you’re right, I guess,” Virgil shrugged, “I didn’t… consider how unpleasant this probably was for you, too.”

“Can we… perhaps agree to start over?” Roman asked, feeling hopeful that this might actually go well now, “I’ve… come to realise that if it must be like this it may be better to have a friend than a shadow.”

Roman offered his hand to Virgil. He didn’t know why he did it, as royalty, he wasn’t supposed to touch the guards or servants - or anyone, really. He’d seen people do this before, though, the servants in the palace mostly, when they agreed on something, so he offered his hand for Wynter to shake regardless. It took a long moment, but eventually Wynter shook his hand with a grip that was strong despite the tremor in his hand. 

“I accept your proposal to start over, Your Highness,” Wynter said, bowing his head politely, “And- agree with you, that it would be better to have a friend here.”

“Oh wonderful!” Roman said, a smile breaking through his mask of neutrality. Something occurred to him then, perhaps… “Could… I request that you simply call me Roman? The titles are- they bother me, a little.”

“Surely that would be improper?” Wynter asked, tilting his head in confusion, “Couldn’t it cause trouble?”

Wynter was right, of course, and he cursed himself for it. If anyone heard his guard address him so informally they’d certainly tell the Queen and then she’d have both of their heads. Silently, Roman thought about the issue for a long moment, trying to figure out whether there was a way around all of this.

“I suppose it could,” he said eventually, sighing, “Though - perhaps not all the time? When we are alone, maybe, like we are now?”

Frowning, Wynter seemed to consider this and in that time Roman began to worry that he would be denied, eventually though, Wynter sighed, “Fine, I suppose I can call you your name when we’re alone.”

“Will you say it now?” 

Wynter paused to look at him once more, before shaking his head, “I’ll call you your name, Roman.”

Roman barely managed to suppress the urge to flap his hands with excitement - knowing it wasn’t something he was supposed to do. Even then he still couldn’t help the smile that now adorned his face. Wynter seemed to soften just a little in the face of it. 

“But-” Wynter said, Roman looked back over, his smile fading immediately at the frown on his face, “You should call me by my first name too - if I do that.”

Taken aback, Roman simply nodded. It was rare that someone other than his parents and tutors ever told him what to do. Almost none of the staff or guard had ever done such a thing. 

“I- suppose that’s alright,” Roman agreed anyway, if only to see Wynter’s shoulders droop in relief, “Virgil?”

“Roman,” Virgil nodded. 

“It feels strange to be called that,” Roman says with a small chuckle, “Not- bad per-se, but strange.”

“I guess you don’t get called it often, do you?” Virgil tilted his head. 

“Not particularly,” Roman agreed - his parents were practically the only people who called him by his name, and usually that wasn’t a good thing - but Virgil saying it was almost… nice? He wasn’t quite sure exactly why. 

Virgil simply nodded, “I figured.”

“So, Virgil…” Having permission to use Virgil’s first name felt almost elating, like a tiny weight had been lifted off of the pile on his shoulders, “Can we attempt a… friendship? Virgil?”

“I… suppose?” Virgil said, shifting on the chair. He looked so stiff and uncomfortable sitting next to him, Roman wished he knew what was wrong so he could do something to help, he still seemed so hesitant and wary of the idea. “We can try.”

Smiling in contentment, glad he had been able to have a proper conversation with Virgil, on that might have been able to get him a new friend, too. He picked up his book, opening it once more to his page and continuing to read. Virgil never relaxed next to him, which reminded Roman of what a poor state his guard had been in before he’d asked him to sit in the first place. 

“So, as friends,” Roman said eventually, looking up from his book back at Virgil with a tilt of his head, “What ails you? Why are you in pain? Wouldn’t friends tell each other such things?”

Roman watched as the neutral expression on Virgil’s face crumpled into that furious anger he’d seen back on the first day they’d met and Roman physically leant back. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, Virgil had gone from seeming happy with the idea to being angry at Roman in just an instant.

“...I’ve upset you,” Roman said, voice made weak by the ferocious glare his guard was giving him, “What, um, what did I do?”

Virgil’s expression didn’t soften, not really, but a sense of confusion was added to the anger as he stared at him. Not knowing what to do - how to fix this, what he’d done wrong - Roman just shrugged weakly.

“You- you just apologised and offered to be friends just to get me to tell you things you wanted to know?” Virgil said, laying it all out with just a hint of harshness in his tone, “That’s just manipulation, not- not friendship.”

Oh.

Oh 

That wasn’t what he’d meant to do at all - or was it? He’d wanted Virgil to tell him what was wrong, after all, he was concerned - but should he have just asked? But he had wanted to be friends with Virgil anyway, it wasn’t just a case of trying to get information out of him! He didn’t know what to say, but as he panicked, Virgil’s anger seemed to cool just a little.

“I apologise… again, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said eventually, he thought that the amount that he’d needed to apologise to his guard so far in this conversation was already telling of something - maybe that he didn’t deserve friends.

Virgil sighed, rubbing his face with a half-gloved hand as he looked away from Roman, taking a long moment to answer - his voice exasperated when he did. “Don’t - don’t work yourself up about it - it’s fine…”

“I’ll try not to do it again, I swear-” Roman said, not sure why he wanted so badly to reach for Virgil - he’d already ruined this, hadn’t he? “I really was just asking - I want to help - if I can…”

With a deep breath, Virgil turned back to him, “I’m fine - really, just - I haven’t been sleeping all that well - that’s all.”

“Do you… normally have trouble sleeping? Or is it just…”

“It’s always been a problem,” Virgil said, shaking his head. “It’s been worse since I got here, but it’s not like you can do anything about it.”

“Well- you already know I have some issues sleeping too,” Roman pointed out - “Maybe having someone to relate to might help?” Virgil chuckled.

“Yes - I’m aware,”

“...Right,” Roman nodded, the conversation running dry, “Well… if there was a way I could help-?”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” Virgil smiled softly, “I’m just glad you’re not bothered.”

“Bothered?” Roman tilted his head.

“I would’ve thought you’d worry that this could hinder my performance?” 

“It doesn’t hinder mine,” Roman shrugs, “So I’ll expect the same from you - though you should try to rest when you can.”

“I do try,” Virgil sighs, shaking his head, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, though I’m not sure what I’m being thanked for,” Roman said with a small, hesitant smile. Virgil laughed softly, he decided he quite liked the sound. 

“For not being unpleasant about something I can’t change about myself,” Virgil answered, when Roman frowned in confusion he elaborated, “Trust me - it’s much more common than you might think.”

They kept talking for what must have been hours, mostly about meaningless things that Roman didn’t care much to remember. They talked about how Roman liked the flower arrangements in the hallways despite doing his level best to stay out of the hallways entirely in order to avoid people. How Virgil enjoyed the food here much more than he had enjoyed the food back home - mentioning a quick ‘no offence’ to someone named Logan. Over the course of the hours, they both learned more about each other than Roman remembered knowing about anyone other than his brother. 

—-

“My mother taught me how to wield,” Virgil said, another dreary day in the library half a week later. 

It was awkward at first, to start conversations after long periods of silence that left Roman not knowing what to say. He assumed that was just how it was when you met someone new, though he didn’t have much experience to back that up with. The awkward silences and lulls in conversation must be normal when you don't know someone so well, he thought.

Surprised that Virgil had actually spoken up first this time, Roman looked up from his book immediately, eyebrow raised. “A sword?” He asked.

“Mhm - and some other weapons, too,” Virgil said, “I can wield most blades.”

“Were you raised to be a knight?” Roman asked. 

Virgil chuckled. “I was raised to be a blacksmith,” he said, which only served to make Roman more curious. How did a lowly blacksmith end up a guard for a Prince? He wouldn’t voice that thought, though. Virgil always got upset when he talked like that. “My mother taught me how to use many of the weapons we made, just in case.”

“...Forgive my asking,” Roman said slowly, not wanting to offend, “But why would a smith’s boy need to know how to wield? What were you preparing for?”

A frown made its way onto Virgil’s face immediately. “Anything, really. Wild animals, the guards when they decided they weren’t taking enough from us already, other villagers - especially during winters, when we were hungry.”

Why on earth were people turning on each other? And his parent’s guards, attacking innocent people? And how had he not known a thing about it? Roman didn’t know what was the truth anymore. It didn’t make sense for Virgil to lie to him about all of this, but then that would mean that everyone else had been lying to him, which….

Actually made a lot more sense than he’d like to think about.

“Roman?” Virgil asked, sounding a little more hesitant now. When Roman looked up he saw that Virgil had half reached towards him but stopped, like he was going to put a hand on Roman’s arm or something, “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” Roman said automatically. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just…” Virgil trailed off with a frown. “Kind of - went away? For a minute there.”

“Oh,”

“What were you thinking about?” Virgil asked.

Sighing, Roman looked down at his hands. “When we first talked, in the garden, I thought you were lying.”

Virgil nodded, “You made that clear.”

“...Yes,” Roman said, “I’m sorry for dismissing you in that way.”

There was a long pause before Virgil spoke again, “Why did you think I was lying?”

Roman found himself hesitating to tell Virgil why. He simply didn’t know what to say. In the end he simply sighed and shook his head, “I chose to believe them, instead.”

“Who is ‘them’?” Virgil asked, glaring again but this time not at him, “What have they been telling you?”

“Well- you know I’m not allowed to leave the castle,” Roman said, Virgil nodded slowly, “Because of that I’ve - never really seen the state of the kingdom myself, so I’ve asked a lot about how the people are faring out there - every time I ask they tell me that the kingdom is rich and thriving, that the people are happy and love us - or at least they love my parents.”

Astonishment. That was the only word he could think of to describe the look on Virgil’s face. 

“That’s… that’s not true in the slightest,” Virgil said, “Roman- that’s - that’s the furthest thing from the truth-”

“But why would they all lie to me?” Roman asked, “My parents - well I suppose that makes sense - but the staff? The servants? The people?”

Virgil sighed, “They’re… scared,” he said eventually, “Your parents are - well - many people dislike them, let's say that, and even more people are scared of them - if your parents told them all to lie to you - I was probably supposed to lie to you too, but…”

“Don’t - please,” Roman said, looking back up at him, “If - if the people I’m supposed to rule over are suffering, I want to know about it.”

“Most nobles I have met would rather be ignorant,” Virgil said, a look on his face that Roman found himself unable to decipher. 

“I suppose that means I’m not like most nobles.” Roman said, falling silent after that. He supposed he had a lot to think about now.

----

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[cthulhu-calling]

Wedding Bells II

Wanda Maximoff x female!Reader

Summary : Your best friend is getting married. You’re beyond elated. And he asked you to be his best man. But there’s a catch. The maid of honour is the woman you were with for two years. The woman you were going to get down on one knee and ask to spend the rest of your life together. The woman who cheated on you, smashing your heart into millions of tiny pieces. Can you truly make it down the aisle with her on your arm?

Warnings : fluff, angst, cheating

Author’s Note : This story has elements of cheating, maybe a graphic description further down the road. The reader is female and has no particular race or body type so feel free to imagine yourself (though I write with woc in mind).

I spent a long time staring at pictures of Kathryn Hahn's face to figure out her eye colour (not that I truly mind) so y'all better appreciate my dedication.

Word Count : 1265

series masterlist

Preparations for the wedding are in full swing, but you have surprisingly little to do. You never realised that most of the work is taken over by the bride’s side. You’re thankful for it, you suppose. You’re kept in the loop, sure, but you never actively contribute. You’re glad, you couldn’t imagine having to interact with Wanda regularly. That one voicemail was enough to drive you up the fucking wall. You never did end up replying to it. You thought about it a lot though. Even found yourself going back and listening to it but the initial anger was replaced by something else. Something you didn’t want to dwell too long on or God forbid you act on those feelings. It was best to keep your distance until it was absolutely necessary or unavoidable for you to interact with her. 

Bucky and Natasha’s engagement party was this weekend. You were as ready as you’d ever be. You’d gotten a brand new outfit, an emerald green jumpsuit with a halter neck and mostly open back. The colour looked beautiful on you and you had just the right heels to pair with it. You were going to get your hair done professionally the day before too, putting it up high so that you could really show off your outfit. You were leaving no stone unturned. There was only one problem : a date. You needed one ASAP. You could ask your friend from work, Carol, to come along. You knew how much Wanda despised her but Carol tends to get a bit handsy when she has a couple of drinks in her, as the entire office witnessed at the Christmas party last year. So, she was not an option. You need to find yourself a date, fast. Peggy had offered to introduce you to her cousin, Sharon, and you’d jumped on the idea. She was a total smokeshow, that woman. You’d met her before, at Peggy and Steve’s wedding but back then you had no idea she was into women. You were going out to meet her at your favourite bar downtown for a drink. Casual, laid back. Peggy had already told her you were looking for a date and she seemed fine with it so that was half your work already done for you. 

That evening, you meet Sharon for a drink and you must admit, she’s just as gorgeous as you remember. She stands up to greet you, pulling you close for a hug and you can smell the sweet perfume on her. The shorts she’s wearing hug her figure amazingly and her top is low cut enough to give a teasing hint of cleavage. She’s pure seduction with legs that seem to go on for miles and perfectly styled blonde waves. 

The date seemed to be going well but honestly, you found something off about her. You tried to push the feeling down, thinking it’s because you’re still kind of stuck on Wanda but no, it kept bubbling up to the surface. And for good reason too. Alarm bells started going off in your brain the moment she asked what your financial situation was like. You wanted to tell her it was none of her business, or make some dumb joke about how that was a more third date kind of line of questioning but instead you told her just what she was itching to hear. God, you wish you had a spine.

“It’s okay, I get by,” you shrug and the look of pure joy that takes over her face is blinding.

“How would you feel if I told you that I have a business opportunity for you that’s going to make you a lot of money?” she asks gleefully. 

You should’ve ended the date then and there but your lack of a goddamn spine came through and you sat and listened to her whole spiel, telling her you were interested in selling nutritional supplements as a side hustle to make extra money and that you’d get back to her soon. She left pretty satisfied after that and it was safe to say that you hate yourself.

You were getting sick of this. Another failed first date. You plop yourself down on the bar stool and the bartender, and your friend, Agatha, greets you with a quirk of her perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

“What was wrong with this one?” She asks, setting a tall glass of seven and seven in  front of you, on the house, she says. 

“Is it too much to ask to not get roped into an MLM recruitment on the first date? I mean, save that shit for the tenth date, at least,” you say as you take a rather large sip from your glass. 

“It happens to,” she trails off before sighing, “Actually, it does not happen to all of us,” she finishes with a snort.

“I’m cursed,” you groan, sipping from the straw.

“You’re not cursed, you’re just special,” she says sympathetically, patting your hand before going to the other end of the bar to attend to another customer. 

“So, who was she?” Agatha asks.

“Sharon. She’s my friend Peggy’s cousin. I didn’t even know she was into women,” you shrug.

“Hmm, maybe she was just trying to get a new member for her cult. What do they sell anyway?” 

“Nutritional supplements or like gummies or something, I wasn’t listening,” you grumbel, biting the straw. 

“Well, you need to wade through a sea of cheaters and recruiters to finally find the one. And you’re young, you have time,” she says. Agatha was older than you, by ten years at least. You were turning thirty this year and she seemed closer to forty, though you’d never ask her.

“Not really. I need a date for my friends Bucky and Nat’s wedding. My ex is gonna be there too,” you say, blowing bubbles into your drink.

“The one who cheated on you?” she asks, wiping down the counter.

“Yeah, and last I heard, she’s still with that old guy she cheated on me with,” you sigh, holding your head in your hands in despair. A warm hand encircles your wrist, making you look up. Agatha’s looking at you with a mischievous smile and you realise that you never noticed before just how pretty her eyes were. They were a pale grey and if you weren’t so close to her, one might even mistake them for blue. 

“So, you need a date for this wedding to make your ex realise what she’s missing, right?” She’s outright smirking now, a twinkle to her eyes in mirth.

“Yeah, what are you suggesting?” you frown, confusion lacing your tone.

“I think I might have an idea of exactly who can help you,” she says and you must say, you’re intrigued. You’ve never heard her speak like this, so giddy, almost evil. She was easy going and while you weren’t extremely close to her, you knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t cause you any harm, not intentionally.

“Really? And who might that be? If you’re about to suggest a shrink, I have a rather colourful array of words to offer,” you squint your eyes at her, wondering where she’s going with this.

“Darling, no one short of the good Lord up above can help you but for this situation, I know who can,” she says as she lets go of your wrist, knowing that she has your full attention. 

‘Well? Spit it out already,” you demand impatiently.

With a dramatic flourish of her hands, she says in a sultry tone “Me, darling, who else?” 

[chickensarentcheap]

:D I think I put too many, answer whatever you want lol

1, 3, 4 6, 7 9, 13, 14, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22

How do they celebrate their birthday?

Tyler always makes sure that Esme is spoiled! Mind you, not just on her birthday, but he tends to go even more overboard then lol. If it falls during the week, they wait until the weekend and start it off with the kids making her breakfast in bed and giving her a spa morning/afternoon. So a facial, massage and cupping, pedi and mani, sometimes something done with her hair. They will have friends over like Esme's sister and sister's girlfriend, Koen, Clover and Andy. So just a lot of relaxing and hanging around outdoors, dinner on the beach, cooked over an open fire. Her favourite cupcakes and a cake made by the kids. And he always takes her on a birthday trip, a week to one week away :)

3. What do they wear when they're just hanging out at home?

Esme is a lover of comfy things! Yoga pants or leggings if it's cooler outside, yoga shorts or denim shorts if it's hot as balls lol. A baggy t-shirt always. She adds a hoodie of Tyler's if it's chilly. And she ALWAYS wears a pair of her many Crocs outside lol.

4. What is their house like?

After all the renovations and additions, it's a modern farmhouse. Seven bedrooms, six bathrooms, a handful of out buildings, a small pool/house. A mix of elements really: wood, stone, siding on the outside, high ceilings with aged wood beams, granite counter tops. Something like this but with fieldstone mixed in:

6. What will always make them smile?

Definitely Tyler and his teasing, the way he'll ruffle her hair and sneak a kiss to her cheek or pat her bum when walking by her. And the kids' laughter and Addie's giggles and incessant chattering.

7. What will always make them cry?

Talking about the moments on the bridge in Dhaka or the baby she and Tyler lost in the third trimester. Between the twins and Declan.

9. Favourite book

She has so many she loves! Her fave of all time for sentimental reasons is Bridge to Terabithia.

13. Tattoos:

She has more than most people realize lol. She has a large peacock tattoo where the head is between the breasts and it goes down her stomach a bit and then onto her left cage and ending with a fanned out tail on her back. She has a little fox behind her left ear. A dragonfly on the side of her left ankle, a seahorse on the back of her right calf, and her and Tyler's initials and birthdates on the inner right bicep.

14. What was their first kiss like?

It was when she was fourteen and an older girl at school (just two years older) that was crushing on her, approached her in the hallway and just sort of pinned her against the lockers and kissed her. Totally consensual, mind you.

16. They find a genie and are granted three wishes. What would they wish for and why?

For all her children to happy and healthy for their entire lives. To take away the physical pain that Tyler struggles with every day, and the take away his mental health issues.

17. They're stranded on an island and can only bring four items and one companion. Who and what do they bring?

A good book to read, her journal and pen, a bottle of her favourite rose, a comfy blanket. And she'd choose Tyler over everyone and anyone :)

20. What kind of accent do they have?

I've never thought about it. Do people from Colorado have an accent? I suppose in the main series she may have picked up a slight Aussie accent.

21. What is their most prized possession?

Definitely that cheap leather bracelet Tyler bought her in the Dhaka. That thing has been through a lot and he's had to repair it several times and she refuses to part with it

22. Have they ever stolen anything?

Other than a few hearts along the way? ;). when she started her period as a pre-teen, she stole tampons and pads from a drug store because her mother was completely useless

[theseventhoffrostfall]

I won't spoil Alan wake ii if you havent played it yet, but ngl while I dont think Kojima is bad at all, its really opening my eyes a bit. Sam Lake (real last name is finnish or a lovecraftian god) uses what he's inspired by way more integrated into his games. And the interplay of multiple forms of media including live action and music and, god help me for uttering this overused phrase, playing with the fourth wall, is something that makes Kojima look like simultaneously like an amateur and an elitist at the same time.

Let's say Kojima likes David Bowie. He'd have a character named David Bowie, Otacon would call in on the comms and say "Snake, that's david bowie. He's named after David Bowie the singer. He was a glam rock singer active from the late 1960s to 2016 most known for Ziggy Stardust" and the entire thing would be a thinly veiled excuse to hang out with David Bowie and put his likeness in the game and maybe release some haute couture sunglasses or something, while also namedropping extremely esoteric things Kojima can feel smart over knowing people will have to go to Wikipedia to understand the concepts he stayed up last weekend reading about. I cant really give an example for Alan Wake/Control like that entirely because everything is so worked in. Yeah its clearly Twin Peaks and X-Files and True Detective and a bit of that sparse Scandinavian Noir and some Lovecraft as well. But everything is blended together without coming to a screeching halt while you listen to the games creator tell you about the stuff he likes.

Not that I dislike MGS or anything, but in terms of "visionary" creators I think Sam Lake has just pulled ahead of Kojima in a really big way. He feels more like those TGWTG people who were only there as a stepping stone to their big hollywood career (which never panned out) and likewise Kojima treats his games more like the artsy movies he's always wanted to make instead of trying to be truly creative.

That's essentially the conclusion I've come to, yeah. Plus, Lake seems to embrace making games while Kojima seems to bitterly regret that he'd be laughed out of Hollywood.

Hell, MGS is supposed to be like an overblown, larger-than-life metaphor/representation of real, serious topics like nuclear proliferation and yadda yadda yadda. Except it gets muddled and stupid because the mechs that symbolize nuclear weapons are just dangerous for being nuclear launch platforms, because metaphors are hard. 30% of the earth's population was a child soldier who now wanders the land fighting for obscure philosophical reasons but shows little to none of the actual problems associated with former child soldiers, and 45% of all military personnel are clones or genetically engineered or turbocyborgs or something. Because this story that tries to touch on Very Serious Issues about soldiers and their place in the world was written in a country with pretty much 0 living combat veterans by a man who's never raised a fist in anger