#keeps weetabix in business

[faithhopeloveandtherapy]

Life with Mr 7 and Miss 5 continues to tick on quite steadily. It feels less like living with a ticking timebomb now. We can generally head the meltdown off before it starts. Weekdays are very routine with school and just down time at home after school, and weekends we keep quite busy with various activities and new experiences for the children. I’ve got one to one swimming lessons lined up for Mr 7 over the summer, and they both get two days a week holiday club. We have a week away booked in August. I’m feeling like the school holidays are quite under control.

Miss 5 is non verbal but we are getting lots more squeals and excited stimming, and she is gaining weight and growing a bit, despite her diet of weetabix. Actually I’ve spoken to the dietician and we have agreed that weetabix and oat milk, both of which are fortified with vitamins, provides a pretty reasonable amount of nutrition. Anyway she is still tiny and way below the 0.4th centile. I do believe this is largely caused by years of chronic malnutrition and neglect. She has been failed by the system that should have protected her.

The two of them will be with us for many months yet and I don’t know what direction their future will go in.

[suekreandtheidiots]

The Joy of Parenting

Location // Characters: Aberdeen // Sofia and Craig

October 2004 - Sofia and Craig talk about their oldest son.

Status/Notes: finished / I love writing these two, and I love parent couples who are still very much in love with each other after years of being together!

___

October 2004

Strong but gentle arms wrapped around her body from behind, and Sofia closed her eyes, leaning into the very familiar touch with a content smile and breathing in her husband's scent. Sun and salt water in his long hair, his favourite cologne as well as a hint of fresh wood - it was an illustrious scent she could never get enough of, even after twenty years.

"Let's go and eat out tonight, Sof, hm?" Craig murmured into her ear. Sofia could practically see his wide smile, without turning around, right in front of her inner eye.

"What?" she laughed.

"I want to take you out to dinner, dear and hard-working wife of mine."

"Where does that come from now?"

"Well, I feel much better than I did last week, I made a secret wish on my birthday… that is now not so secret anymore, mind you, and it's been ages since the last time we went out. You're always so busy saving animals-"

"He says like it's a bad thing-"

"-and I miss going out with you!"

"Well, our budget's been a bit tight after all, with all the repair work in our bathrooms, Ali's new sets of sports gear and Lance's latest school trips? Besides, we are also still saving up to support him through university." Sofia said, snuggling a little deeper into Craig's embrace, savouring the moment.

"And we always managed to put food on the table, too." Craig said. "We've always been doing just fine, Sof. I have an eye on our finances, too. You just worry too much."

"Nooo, I just prefer to keep my head out of the clouds, unlike a certain gentleman whom I happen to be very much into… despite his tendency to gloss over certain situations." she mocked, knowing that Craig would not take it personally. He never did.

"Have I ever met that bloke? Sounds like an idiot."

There we go.

"Briefly, I think. He's quite adorable, actually." Sofia giggled and lightly patted Craig's arms.

The gentle pats were their own little signal to let go of each other, any time they didn't exactly want to part but had to, and Sofia sure would have loved to lean into her husband for a little while longer, but the ice cream that was sitting at the bottom of one of the grocery bags on the counter was probably about to melt right in front of her eyes within the next few minutes and that was not at all why she had bought it.

Once Craig let go of her, she started unpacking the bags, handing him some of the items so he could store them away.

"Nah, seriously, Sof… what do you say?" Craig tried again, putting a package of spaghetti into the cupboard above him. "Hm? Just us tonight. We can drop Ali off at Finn's and, as far as I know, Lancie has plans, too."

"He does?"

"Heard him say somethin' earlier and from what I understood, he won't be home before ten or so."

"I love how he's only sixteen and just assumes that curfews are no longer a thing for him."

"He's a good kid, Sof."

"I know, I know."

Craig put away the two new boxes of Weetabix and leaned against the counter. A wide smile spread across his face. "So, what do you say? I could get a table at Humphrey's at six o'clock?"

"Hm, go on?"

"Then we should be done with dinner around eight, at the latest, and that still leaves enough time for me to get you home real quick and show you some of my finest woodwork, if you catch my drift."

Sofia groaned. "Dear god, Abbott, that's it, I'm going to hide that book about puns."

"So that's a no to my well-crafted plans?"

Sofia pursed her lips and thought about Craig's idea.

She actually had made plans to declutter her office tonight, to go through all the documents she had not had enough time to sort into their appropriate folders in the past few weeks, and after that she had looked forward to wind down in front of the TV with one of her favourite movies, "Gone With The Wind" (hence the ice cream), and go to bed early, to enjoy a night of peaceful sleep.

A date with her husband, however, with the outlook of some… woodwork, as he apparently liked to put it now, was all too tempting.

Between them both working full time and managing everyday life with two very lively sons, making room for some actual romance could be a challenge, and it really had been a while at this point. Neither Sofia nor Craig had liked that a whole lot.

Sofia decided that her office could probably wait another day or two.

"It's a yes." she smiled. "Stop referring to sex as woodwork, though, and you will get lucky tonight."

"It's a charming code word, though?" Craig hopped on the counter and made himself comfortable, snatching one of the shiny bags next to him, opening it and devouring a handful of crisps within seconds. "Any time the boysh are around and we talk about woodwork, they'd remain entirely cluelesh."

"Really?" Sofia raised an eyebrow. "Have you met your own sons?!"

"Well… at least Ali would be clueless, and he might remain so for a long time, now that his cute little mind revolves all around football."

"Let's just hope so."

Sofia sighed at the very unsettling thought of her youngest eventually growing up, too, and she had just put away a can of baked beans when another thought crossed her mind. She turned to her husband.

"So what is Lancie up to later?" she asked. "I haven't seen him all day, and, well… he never really talks to me anyway."

She did her best to make the last part sound like a casual statement, and she knew that it had never been personal either, but the way Lance felt mostly drawn to Craig still had potential to nag at her sometimes.

"I don't know, really. Think I heard him mention 'Diana', though."

"Dear god, no." Sofia let out another groan, losing composure for a second, despite trying not to, and leaning on the counter in frustration.

Next to her, her husband chuckled and helped himself to another handful of crisps. "You really don't like the little lass, eh?"

"I want to, Pooky, I really do. It's more that... I don't know, I just don't like the way she makes Lancie run after her. That's just not like him at all."

"Sof, he's sixteen. A damn teenager."

"So? Doesn't mean he can't have any standards?"

"You're cute. Do you really need me to spell out for you what he's after?"

"Craig!" Sofia moaned. "You're not helping."

"What? Most of us go through that awful phase, and trust me, it pains us more than it does you."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because you lassies know you're sweet and gorgeous, and intriguing, and that we're all into you no matter what, and you know we know it, and you can do whatever you want with that. Don't tell me you weren't a scheming little goddess at sixteen."

"I wasn't?!"

"I don't believe you at all." Craig laughed. "What I wanted to say, though... we usually come out of that phase as better, wiser people."

Sofia glanced to the side to where Craig was still sitting happily on the counter, his long legs dangling and his blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he was looking at his bag of crisps like it was his own, personal revelation. He, too, resembled a damn teenager in this very moment and it was one of the things she had always loved about her husband - life, no matter the circumstances, had never hardened him and she hoped it never would.

Her lips curled up into a smile. "Better, sure. Wiser however-"

"Hey, I managed to woo you!"

"I was young and very easy to impress." Sofia laughed.

"You were never easy to impress, Miss Thomson, I am really just that great." Craig pointed at himself with two thumbs, grinning like the gorgeous, confident fool he was, before he joined in laughing.

A few moments later, he shrugged and added: "Honestly, Sof, don't even worry. Besides, it's not like there's a whole lot that Lancie could do wrong, so let him do his thing, he'll be fine."

Sofia cocked her head.

It's not like there's a whole lot that Lancie could do wrong.

What a strange and out-of-the-blue statement that was. It sure sparked her curiosity, so she decided to address it.

"What do you mean, he can't do wrong?"

"You know what I mean. Our oldest isn't exactly set up for failure, right?"

"I don't even know how to answer that."

"Just think about it - has Lance ever done anything truly stupid? Name one thing!" Craig dared her, putting his bag of crisps away, before he jumped off the counter, proceeding to put the last few groceries to their designated places.

Sofia smirked and raised an eyebrow. "So you're tryin' to tell me that you already conveniently forgot how he snuck out to a party he wasn't allowed to go to last year?"

Her husband turned around, making a face. "Oh, that-"

"And didn't even manage to sneak back in, like he had planned? Instead he passed out drunk at some stranger's house and we called him about three hundred times, worried sick, before he gave a sign of life - the next afternoon."

Craig pressed his lips into a thin line, and he blinked. "Just, uh… name one other thing he fucked up."

Sofia laughed and gently tugged at the hem of her husband's sweater jacket. "Pooky, what are you even on about?"

"That party incident was merely a glitch, don't you think? What I'm saying is that our son is a force of nature. I'm so proud of him. I mean, he's good at everything he tries, it almost scares me."

Ah. The age old tale of the Golden Boy. Sofia looked down and bit her lip.

She had always loved how Craig had proved to be a devoted father. In spite of what everyone else had to say about their young relationship back in the days, he had done simply amazing right from the start and while there had been many voices trying to talk her out of 'settling for that silly lad', Sofia had always… known. Sure, Craig had been young, but even back then, in his very early twenties, she had sensed that hint of security about him. It was never about money, status and possessions, she could've had that plenty of times. Craig Abbott had the heart and soul that she had always looked for, to even think about starting a family. Craig had always seen her for her, and he wholeheartedly believed in the people he loved.

Sofia had always known that and not much had changed about it, but the past was the past and the present was right here, always waiting to be faced in whatever way necessary. And believing in loved ones was one thing. Putting them on a pedestal, however, was another.

"Lance is good at everything he does, that's true." Sofia nodded reluctantly and she let a few more moments pass before she went on. "And I'm beginning to wonder whether that's actually a good thing."

Craig put his hands on each side of her neck and gently caressed it with his thumbs. "That doesn't make any sense, love. How can that not be a good thing?"

"Because I'm not sure if I like the person he's becoming... because of that."

"Come on, Sof. What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Haven't you noticed how... reckless he has become? Inconsiderate? I mean... sometimes?"

"He's neither reckless nor inconsiderate, he's confident."

"Confidence is a good thing, I'd never complain about that. I don't know, Craig, it's the way he talks to his friends sometimes. His tone, his manners. Happens with Cal, mostly. You might want to listen a little closer the next time the two are talking."

Craig sighed. "I don't know... aren't you reading a bit too much into all of this?"

Sofia knew that her husband was not exactly trying to brush off her concerns or to invalidate her perception on purpose but it still angered her a little that he did not even try to think about it for a while longer, pretty much proving her point right on the spot.

"Perhaps I am." she shrugged. "I can't help but notice a little change, though. You keep encouraging him in a way that... I don't know." She sighed. "I don't know, Craig. There's just something I don't quite like about this."

"So what? Lance has figured some things out sooner than others, what's the big deal? Makes things easier for us! It's what I'm talking about after all, he's a bright one, and I still don't know how that's a bad thing."

"Because teenage years are exactly the time to fuck up. It's how we truly learn and grow. We make mistakes. We learn. We grow. All the time, on repeat. We need to experience those mistakes, to really feel the weight of them. That way, we learn how to reflect ourselves. How is Lance supposed to do that if no one is around to humble him every once in a while?"

"You want us to wear our own kid down?!"

"God, Craig, no!" Sofia groaned. "Of course not. All I want to say is… you might want to grant him a little more room to make mistakes. Because he will. He already has. Question the things he says. Look a little closer, just every once in a while."

"Who says I'm not doing that?"

"I'm not saying that it happens on purpose, but you aren't exactly- I mean, sometimes-" Sofia struggled to find the right words. "The way you talk about him sometimes, like he's already a fully fledged grown up friend of yours… it concerns me."

Craig pulled his eyebrows together and made a tiny step back. "But… why? I love him and I admire him. Why can't my son be my friend, too? How is my support wrong all of a sudden?"

"It's not wrong but… I don't know, Craig. And you know what, sometimes I can't help but ask myself whether you remember that we have another son."

"Hey, no. Just no! That's not fair, Sof." Her husband now let go of her entirely. He took another step back, crossing his arms in obvious defense, and shooting her a glance of disapproval. "You know I love Ali just as much!"

"Well, I can sure assume that, but does Ali know?"

"Sofia, what the fuck is this about? How did we go from dinner plans to me being on family trial, what did I even do?"

Sofia looked down and shook her head. Damn. That was not at all how she had meant for her concerns to come out. She made a step forward and gently squeezed her husband's upper arms and she knew she was not exactly acting reasonable right now, but acting reasonable could be so hard when the subject of debate was her children. Her still-so-very-young sons.

She had to let Craig know that this was still an eye-to-eye discussion.

"Look, I'm sorry, Pooky." she said, stroking his arms. "You are definitely not on trial, and I am not trying to hurt you here, but… sometimes I can't shake off the feeling that you're..."

Doing more harm than good. No, way too harsh. And not quite true either. Sofia pondered her choice of words carefully.

"... that you're putting Lancie in a position he is not at all ready to be in. You may see a force of nature but he is still a boy, Craig."

"Are you… are you tryin' to tell me that I love my son too much?"

"No. No, Craig, that is absolutely not what I'm trying to tell you." Sofia shook her head. "I love the way you love him, alright? I'm just a wee bit worried you might be putting more pressure on him sometimes than what is good for him, without you even realising. You know how you get carried away at times-"

"I'm not putting any pressure on him!"

"Craig-"

"It's not like I expect him to do any of the things he does? I never expected him to master "Painkiller" on the drums at only fourteen, I never expected him to do that well in school and I sure don't expect him to go to med school. It is what he wants, Sof, it's all him! He is the driving force in his own life, he has always been."

"I know that!"

"So what are we even arguing about?!"

"We're not arguing!"

"No? Because it feels like that to me!"

"We're not! I just happen to know that Lance looks up to you. He looks up to you so much, and it might not appear like that to you but he wants your approval. He wants you to think high of him. I know my son, too. He might favour you and he might not even be aware of all the things I just said, but I can see it."

"If it was me he looks up to, he would strive to become a rockstar and hedonist."

"Craig." Sofia breathed out in mild exhaustion and she rested her forehead against her husband's chest.

"The doctor thing is cool, too, though." Craig said after a few moments, offering a tone so soft now that Sofia instantly knew that she had him back on her side, right where he belonged. Craig put his arms around her once more and gently rested his head on hers. This felt good. They stood like that for a while until Sofia felt ready to speak again.

"All I want to say is… try and look behind the facade at times. Be gentle with him." she murmured. "After all, this world won't always be. He might be more fragile than both of you think."

"I am gentle with him. He doesn't care for it all that much."

"I'm not telling you to coddle him. I just- I need to be sure you have his back, even when he messes up."

"Why would you even question that?" Craig asked, unusually timid, stroking her hair while he was still gently rocking her in his arms.

"I know you think he can't do anything wrong but... just play pretend for a moment." Sofia pulled out of his embrace, not much, but just far enough so she could look up into his face. "Assume that Lance does something really stupid... will you be there for him? Will he have your unconditional love and support, even when he's not the amazing self you admire so much? Even when he makes loving him very hard?"

"Sofia-"

"I just need to know, Craig. Please."

Her husband took a deep breath, and he also took his time before he answered.

"Sofia, I will always love him, no matter what he does. And I will always be there for him, too. Even when he messes up. Even when he messes up bad. It... it hurts that I have to spell it out like that."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm having a moment. It's been quite a week, I'm letting it all out on you and I'm so sorry."

"It's all good, love, but you need to tell me what this is really about."

Sofia pondered the question. "I don't know. Sometimes I hate seeing him grow up so fast. Love it, too. But mostly hate it these days. The world is scary, and I keep wondering whether we're giving our sons enough-"

"Shhh. Hey. Our sons have great parents, trust me. They will be fine."

"Why can't I be the funny and gorgeous, happy-go-lucky half of this relationship at times?"

"Because you're perfect the way you are, and no one wants you any other way. And I get that you're thinking about these things, Sof, I really do. I think about it, too. But our sons growing up is the way things are supposed to be, and we may not always like it but neither you nor I can change it. All we can do is watch them live in the moment."

"I know." Sofia sighed. "Wow, that was one hell of a speech, I just remembered again why I love you."

"I told you I'm just that great!" Craig smirked down at her, earning himself a light punch to his upper arm but it only made him laugh and pull her a little closer again. "It'll be alright, love, Lancie still has us. And just to assure you once more - I'll be around to catch him the second he falls. I promise."

Sofia nodded. "Alright, good. I'm sorry, Pooky... can't promise it won't happen again but I'm done being a crazy mother hen for now."

"As long as you always end up telling me what's on your mind, I'm fine with you acting a little crazy at times."

Sofia let out a little laugh and gave her husband another little squeeze.

"Are we good?" Craig asked, kissing the top of her head.

"We're always good." she assured him and stood up on her toes to kiss him. "I meant what I said earlier, though."

"Hm?"

"I know you love him. Of course you do, but please make some room for Ali, too. It won't hurt. He needs his father just as much, if not more. I mean, you have already established that Lance is a force of nature so I think you can let him run free sometimes."

"That coming from you, right after your crazy mother hen meltdown?"

"Arsehole."

Craig let out a hearty laugh. "I promise I'll make room for my little Ali. Of course I will. He'll be fed up with me soon enough."

"You don't need to suffocate him?!" Sofia scoffed. "Just... pay a little attention to him, he's really sweet and entertaining, actually."

"I know he is, and now that I think of it... the prospect of having an entire lifetime of pestering both my sons to pure and utter exhaustion ahead of me... it's pretty great!"

"Oh god." Sofia groaned and rolled her eyes, but she did it with an honest smile. It felt so good to let it all out every once in a while, and another thing she loved about her husband was that he always had a way of making her feel better.

"Honestly, I live for that!" Craig added, a mischievous little spark in his eyes. "For now, though... how about we both finally enjoy the prospect of going out to dinner later?"

"Sounds great to me!"

***

[beansidhebumbling]

🪐❄️🍦☁️

mememememememeeeeee!!!!

I have questions!!choose me and my question!!!!!

i asked a lot as usual

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

1. It's sunny today.

2. I got the chocolate weetabix I like.

3. I got words on a page for the first time in ages.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

@kale-theteaqueen or @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk or @flowerflamestars

Would all do a great job

Second chances angsty broken soul bond rhysta

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

Mmm I'm not really in the business of hating characters. Like if a character is evil they can still be a great character. Characters that piss me off are those that are poorly written and well its sjm so... 😂

I dislike Cassian because of just ugh a laundry list of stuff but he is a loyal friend, his hair is swell and he can be funny on occasion.

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

Um I wanted to keep the same essence as sunlightsage but like the other side of that coin? More lunar and uncertain. I always liked the legend of the bean sidhe too. So yeah haha.

[c-kiddo]

behind the scenes small things in dfy:

caleb helps veth and yeza out by babysitting luc a couple times a week. he writes essays while luc watches cartoons or does his homework or plays with frumpkin

beau is trying to get fjord better at going running with her. fjord threw up the first and maybe second time

yasha wants to do a hiking trail in the dunrock mountains but is slightly worried about going alone (for once) because of bears. the main reason she hasn’t is that she needs to save money first 

caleb goes to the rly old traditional zemnian deli/bakery often (he gets big jars of sauerkraut there too) and its basically the only time he eats anything of substance. aside from that he eats weetabix, toast and black coffee. beau and veth made him take a vitamin. 

there’s a newer nicodranian cafe across town and jester is yet to go to it (she keeps meaning to but, jester voice: ouuh going on the train is a lot of work you guuys. plus theyve all been busy)

fjord is too scared to do his T shot and thats ok because beau helps. he used to do it on his own before they all met but he never got used to it. he feels silly about it and beau makes fun of him for it, affectionately, but its ok in the end 

zadash has old swimming baths with beautiful tiles that’ve been preserved (they will go to one in a future chapter i think) for being historical. it has high ceilings and different colourful skylights. fjord swims here often

caduceus usually ends up walking around with charcoal smudged on his cheek in his fur but no one has told him yet T_T he doesn’t know

and, the dark grey parka yasha wears is older than she is

[disco-tea]

Sorry but Dawn and Spike being a sad little broken family while Buffy is dead. A sad little broken family, but a close one nonetheless.

Dawn trying to run away exactly once, two days after Buffy’s death (because she’s just a Bitty Buffy after all) and even though the others have tried to tell Spike to get lost since Buffy’s gone now they are panicking because they can’t find her and have to ask for his help. He finds her at a bus station and he wants to yell at her for scaring him and making him worry but he’s so exhausted and she is too and she takes one look at him and starts crying and he lets her. She cries and cries and cries and then falls asleep on his shoulder while they sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic benches. He cries too after he’s sure she’s asleep.

Spike being with Dawn through the worst of her grieving because the others don’t know how to handle her because she’s Not Normal and she’s so angry and so alone and in so much pain from all the loss and trauma and she’s just a little crazy for the first few weeks and screams a lot and the only one she’s ever even remotely calm with is him so the others end up just shoving her onto him when she gets bad because they Don’t Know What Else To Do (and also she’ll just start screaming again and lock herself in her room if they make him leave) but it’s okay because he sorta does know what to do because he Gets what she’s feeling and also he’s been taking care of either sick or traumatized people his whole existence. Spike trying to hide his own grieving, not only because the others won’t understand or care, but also because he’s trying to hold it together for Dawn but she knows and she can see the way he’s starting to look gaunt and unhealthy and she’s always making sure he eats either by nagging him or outright making the mug of blood and crushing up weetabix in it and all but shoving it down his throat if he fights her on it. For the first little bit there Dawn is pretty sure the only time he eats is when she makes him and he’s got his own little mug in the corner of the cabinet now and it would startle the others if they realized she knows exactly how he takes his blood to the point she could make it on autopilot (the same way she could make Joyce’s hot chocolate because she loved it too as a kid and now she’s the only one who knows how to make it and there’s nobody else to make it for her) but really it shouldn’t surprise them at all because she’s always the one asking Tara to pick up blood from the butcher so he has some at the house.

Dawn and Spike at the grocery store late in the evening because everybody else is busy with their own thing and left Dawn with Spike and he’s gotta make her dinner but nobody went grocery shopping so they gotta go get ingredients and just the two of them in the mostly empty store at 8 PM. Spike showing up to pick Dawn up from school sometimes even though it’s still day but he’s in his car and also hiding under a blanket. Spike and Dawn going to visit Buffy and Joyce’s graves together and they always bring flowers.

Glory’s minions and other demons who haven’t gotten the memo still coming after Dawn sometimes but they get the message pretty fast because Spike keeps ripping off their heads and limbs and disemboweling some of them. He rips the still beating heart out of one of them with his bare hands and they leave her alone after that.

Dawn having at lot of nightmares and not being able to sleep so they watch crappy late night tv on the couch in the dark until she zonks out. Dawn studying in the kitchen while Spike makes her food (because she’s not allowed to make herself food, he’s seen the stuff she makes and it’s NOT ‘food,’ and this is coming from the guy who eats blood) and the radio is playing and they end up arguing about what station to put it on and bullying each other about their music tastes. They start getting into stupid little squabbles that never truly go anywhere and trading little jabs and it honestly relieves Spike so much because if she can be difficult and fight him on some things then maybe she’s not completely broken and maybe it’s a sign she’s gonna be okay. Maybe they’ll both be okay. Someday. Dawn still having nights where she gets bad and when that happens Spike distracts her by teaching her how to cheat at cards or telling her stories about historical events he’s lived through or famous people he’s met except sometimes he’s bullshitting her and she has to guess if it’s true or not. Spike helping Dawn get ready for the starting school year in whatever way he can even if it’s just small stuff.

Towards the end, they both feel good enough to go to a movie and they compete to see who can sneak the most snacks in. Spike wins because his coat gives him an advantage. He laughs during the movie and Dawn realizes it’s the first time she’s heard him laugh all summer.

Dawn and Spike are a sad broken little family but they are slowly getting better. And maybe, just maybe, one day they’ll be okay.

[emotionally-ralphunctioning]

LOTF Characters as quotes from my group chat:

Ralph: “What if the ghosts are emotionally fragile? What then?”

Simon: “The best thing I’ve done today is get 12/12 on an ‘Is This A Rat Or A Mouse?’ quiz”

Roger: “Being against murder is so political, like, keep that to yourself.”

Jack: “To the group of people very loudly singing the Spongebob Squarepants theme, y’all need singing lessons bc that was dreadful.”

Eric: “It’s not a pyramid scheme, it’s just a business model shaped like an upside down funnel.”

Sam: “I feel so betrayed that Mr Kipling never existed, who else have they been lying to us about?”

Maurice: “Smoke less weed and go eat some beans. Preferably on Weetabix.”

Piggy: “Fine, no Bitcoin for you, then. I’ll start a new life on my own.”

[sinditia]

Starker Fic - The Way It Goes - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

The morning after, where everyone knows about Tony and Peter’s relationship

(Many, many, many thanks to the brilliant and hard-working beta that is @blushing-starker for looking over these chapters for me)

--

As soon as Tony steps foot in the common area of the Avengers’ living quarters, he’s accosted by Rhodey, looking stern and imposing with his arms crossed, levelling Tony with an unimpressed glare.

“You know, for some reason, I never thought you’d be that much of a cliché,” Rhodey remarks.

“Oh boy,” Tony mutters. He tries to escape to the kitchen, but Rhodey follows him there.

“Your little mid-life crisis splashed all over TMZ? I know you’re under a lot of stress but is this really the time?”

“It’s not like that, Rhodey.” Tony opens cabinets at random. He’s sure he left some packets of dried blueberries around here somewhere.

“Where did you even meet this kid, anyway? When you said you were too busy to go on missions with us, I thought you meant business with the company, not… clubbing with some twink. I thought you were over all of that.”

There it is, tucked behind a box of Sam’s organic Weetabix. Tony opens the packet of blueberries and pops a few in his mouth. “I haven’t stepped foot in a single club for possibly five years now. We went out to dinner. At a restaurant. Like civilized people.”

“Is this because Pepper started dating again? I just don’t think trying to compete with her in the boytoy-rebound department is really a good look on you.”

“Neither of us are on the rebound, Rhodes. Why are you obsessing? Relax about it.” Tony holds out the open packet to his friend, who takes a few of the offered blueberries.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Tony. You haven’t really done all this since Pepper. If you’re not just messing around with this guy-”

“I’m not.”

“-then are you being careful? And I don’t just mean about the potential security risk of some rando having access to your life-”

“He’s not some rando.”

“-and all the sensitive tech and information you hold. But also about him having access to you. The you underneath… all of this.” Rhodey looks genuinely concerned. Tony would be kind of touched if he wasn’t so annoyed.

“Are you ... worried about me getting my heart broken or something?”

Natasha chooses that moment to walk in the kitchen and glances between the two of them with some amusement. “Oh, you started without me?” she asks Rhodey.

“Great. Are you two gonna double team me with the shovel talk?” Tony grumbles.

“I think Rhodey wants to give your sugar baby the shovel talk,” Natasha points out, hopping to sit on the counter and holding out a hand towards Tony, who rolls his eyes and passes her the blueberries.

“He’s not my-” Tony starts exasperatedly.

“We should get him to come to one of our meetings,” Natasha says between a mouthful of blueberries. “Get the team to vet him. Make sure he’s good enough for our Tony.”

“Can you be serious for two seconds?” Rhodey scolds her. “It’s one thing if this kid is just after his money. Then whatever, Tony’s got the stuff coming out of his ass.” Tony makes a face at that, but Rhodey barrels on. “But he doesn’t need the distraction right now, and for all we know, this kid could be using him to get sensitive information.”

“Okay. Rhodey. First of all, I don’t fall for honeypots. I can spot that shit a mile away-”

“You didn’t spot me,” Natasha says, holding up a hand.

Tony points a finger at her. “That doesn’t count. S.H.I.E.L.D. just sent you to keep an eye on me, not to get anything out of me. So to speak. I wouldn’t have given anything away.” To Rhodey, he continues, “And second, since when do you listen to anything Harvey Levin says? Peter’s not some gold-digger or a corporate spy or whatever the fuck nonsense he’s been spouting.” Rhodey opens his mouth to speak but Tony interrupts before he can say anything. “And third, you don’t need to worry about me. I know I don’t have a great track record with these things. But this thing with Peter … It’s the real deal. So, just lay off, alright?”

Natasha’s gaze on him is so sharp that he can feel it even when he’s not making eye contact with her. Tony knows that she won’t say anything about Peter’s superpowered alter ego if he doesn’t say anything first. It’s not Tony’s secret to tell, though, so he can deal with a little conjecture from his friends.

Sam pokes his head into the kitchen. “What are you guys doing? Meeting’s about to start.”

Tony crumples the empty packet of blueberries and tosses it into the bin. Natasha takes out a packet of cheese and olive rice crackers from one of the cabinets and tosses it at him, knowing that the man will need some kind of snack to get through a boring and potentially annoying Avengers meeting.

Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Vision are already seated around the table as the four of them enter the meeting room.

Tony drops himself onto the chair farthest from Steve and Bucky. “So how come Thor and Banner get to skip? Did Bruce write himself a doctor’s note or something? ‘Cause that’s cheating.”

“Thor’s got business in New Asgard and Bruce is still in Utah. He says he’s making some headway with his research, but can’t really give us a timeline on when he’d be back,” Natasha informs them.

“You know, I got all the toys Bruce could possibly need right here. Why does he have to go all the way out to the middle of mountainous nowhere?” Tony asks.

“Because it’s the middle of mountainous nowhere,” Natasha replies. “There’s no one around and … gamma radiation can be volatile.”

Tony hums. “That is bleak.”

Steve clears his throat, getting everyone’s attention. “Thanks for coming, guys. I know we all have our own assignments and … other things going on in our lives.” He glances in Tony’s direction when says that and Tony crunches obnoxiously on his rice crackers. “But I appreciate you taking the time to just get each other up to speed. First, I think Rhodey’s got the most pressing news.”

“Yeah, so after the whole alien invasion, they’re really starting to pick up speed with the US Space Force,” Rhodey says, getting right to it.

“Still don’t like the name,” Tony mutters.

“The other UN member states are leaning towards forming something on a global level rather than leaving it to individual nations, but you know our Commander-in-Chief always wants to be the one with the biggest stick in the playground, and they’re looking for contractors to arm the military program.” Rhodey levels Tony with a pointed look.

“I don’t play with the DoD anymore, Rhodes. You know that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told them. But since your Aerospace Division has the most advanced satellites up there right now, you’re still their first choice with this despite you cutting all ties with them.” Addressing the rest of the team, Rhodey continues, “My point is though, even if Tony says no, then they’re just going to go with the next best thing. Hammer’s already sniffing around. Justine’s a lot more competent than her dad and has even looser morals. It’s not gonna end well.”

“I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to throw Tony to the sharks and compromise his principles, though,” Steve remarks. If he notices the rest of the team giving him variations of confused, surprised, and pleased looks then he doesn’t show it. He does, however, notice Tony narrow his eyes at him suspiciously. “What, do you want to be on the US government’s leash?” he asks Tony with a raised brow.

“Not even in a kinky way,” Tony replies.

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” Rhodey says, disgruntled. “I just think we should keep a close watch on the whole thing, at least. Get some eyes in there. Can’t be me, ‘cause they all know I’m tight with Tony.”

Steve nods. “I’ll talk to Fury about it. Knowing him, he’s probably already got some people in place.”

Tony slides his packet of rice crackers over to Steve, who looks at him with slight bewilderment. Next to him, Bucky smiles with quiet amusement.

“Speaking of Fury, any news on his contact, Nat?” Steve unwraps a rice cracker with slow, careful movements, trying not to make too much of a crackling noise from the wrapper as he speaks.

“Not yet,” Natasha answers. “Fury says she’ll probably be too busy to respond right away. Thor said he’s planning on going off world in the next month or so, though. He and Rocket and Groot are heading out to meet up with their crew. The ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’. Anyone ever heard of them?”

“That’s an impressive name,” Wanda comments. “Why aren’t we getting in contact with them?”

“Well, from what I can tell of Rocket’s reports, they’re not actually that impressive,” Natasha says wryly. “I mean, it could just be Rocket being Rocket, but he kept referring to their captain, Starlord, as – and I quote – ‘a giant mouth-breathing moron’.”

“Starlord?” Tony asks. “I met him. And yeah, I can vouch for the raccoon. He is a giant mouth-breathing moron. Him and his crew.”

“They were the ones with you when you fought Thanos on Titan?” Steve asks him.

“Yeah. Last I heard he was heading off to some planet where his girlfriend died.”

“Vormir. Yeah, that’s what Nebula said,” Natasha confirms.

“Is Nebula going with them?” Tony asks her.

“I’m not sure. Haven’t asked. I’m sure she’ll tell you if she were.”

On the other end of the table, the conversation has moved on to Wanda and Vision updating Sam on the investigation he sent them on, which apparently was a dead end.

“Hank wasn’t being very helpful at all. I don’t see why we should even bother,” Wanda grumbles with her arms crossed.

“It does feel like there are some things he isn’t telling us. He doesn’t seem to trust outsiders,” Vision admits. “But we really can’t do anything if they won’t give us all the information.”

“Scott was the one who called me about the break in,” Sam says to them. “Did he tell you anything more?”

Tony’s attention span is quickly deteriorating. He takes out his phone and shoots Peter a text.

>>Do you think if I fake an anaphylactic reaction I could be excused from this meeting?

>>Why am I even here? This entire thing could’ve been an email

Natasha nudges him with her elbow and he looks up to see her raise an eyebrow at him as Sam, Vision, and Wanda blather on in the background about the incident at the Pyms’ labs. Tony just shrugs and continues to text Peter. He doesn’t really expect the other man to reply since he’d be at school right now, but he just wants something to do with his hands.

>>I bet you a thousand bucks my meeting is more boring than your classes

<<Doubt it. I’m here texting you, aren’t I?

<<How could a meeting with the Avengers be boring, anyway?

Tony smiles. It’s only been a few days since they last met but he misses Peter so much already.

>>We’re dealing with a B&E of all things like we’re some kind of beat cops

<<Well, it can’t all be alien invasions all the time

Tony vaguely hears Natasha tell the team about Maria Hill wanting to know if she can update the Avengers’ on-call roster, but he looks up when he hears Bucky speak for the first time.

“I’m ready if they’ll have me.” Bucky’s gaze is steady as he answers Natasha. His expression is neutral.

Next to him, Steve nods. “Add us both in there.”

Natasha turns to Tony. “How ‘bout you?”

“Hmm, no thank you,” Tony replies, returning his attention to his phone.

“New boyfriend keeping you busy?” Sam retorts.

Tony throws him a dark look. “Unlike some people, I actually have a day job that’s keeping me busy.” Rhodey snorts at that but Tony ignores him. “Besides, I’m still working on the security alert system for the Stones’ energy signatures. You guys can handle the random robberies and terrorist attacks. Just call me for the defcon one stuff as per usual.”

“You’re still going after the Infinity Stones?” Steve asks, frowning.

“I was never ‘going after’ them,” Tony says, injecting as much sarcasm as he can into his air quotes. “But four out of six Infinity Stones managed to sneak their way into Earth at one point and put us all in danger. I just thought it would be nice if we could get a heads up next time.”

Steve is still looking at him with an irritating amount of concern.

Tony rolls his eyes. He leans over the table and snatches back the rice crackers from in front of Steve. “If I plan to make another super-bot, I’ll be sure to let you know,” he says sarcastically.

After a few more updates, they wrap up the meeting. Everyone else starts discussing what kind of take-out they should get delivered for dinner while Tony takes his leave. His phone vibrates and he opens it to some more texts from Peter.

<<We’re still on for tomorrow, right?

<<My last class will finish at 2pm

>>I’ll be there, baby

>>Can’t wait xx

Rhodey appears next to him and Tony quickly pockets his phone.

“Any chance I can hitch a ride back to the city?” Rhodey asks as they walk together down the hallway.

Tony fixes him with a shrewd gaze. “Alright,” he concedes. “But just know that I have an ejector installed in the passenger seat. Any comment, smart-ass remark, or even mention of Peter and-” He makes a whooshing noise while making an upward jerking motion with his thumb.

“Deal,” Rhodey says.

They walk together in silence for a few paces. Tony can feel his phone vibrating incoming texts in his pocket but he doesn’t look at it, not trusting Rhodey not to make a move and grab it out of his hands like the eight-year-old he knows his friend is.

“So that means I can talk about it now before we get into the car, right?” Rhodey says.

“Nope!” Tony picks up speed into a jog.

--

Peter hasn’t really made much in the way of friends in college and becoming the topic of gossip for the past week or so hasn’t really helped. He knows that everyone’s got his name in their mouths because his super hearing is capable of picking up on the conversations people have when he walks past, thinking that he can’t hear them. It’s weird having complete strangers knowing all these things about him.

He expected the shit-talking. It’s all written up in the tabloids after all, how Peter was an ‘intern’ at Stark Industries, how he lives in a not-so-great part of Queens, how NYU somehow allowed him to start his studies so late in the semester. Put all these things together and you get the assumption that Peter’s some hood rat who slept his way into getting accepted at a prestigious university.

And the disheartening part is, Peter isn’t completely sure that they’re wrong.

He would never have even been on Tony Stark’s radar if it weren’t for the Spider-man aka ‘Stark Internship’ thing. He never would’ve even been considered by any university if it weren’t for his connections with Tony. And Tony wouldn’t have helped him out with that if they weren’t in a relationship. Sure, most people probably think that he's only in it for the money and that he’s just using Tony, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. But it doesn’t make all the rest of it untrue.

Peter has grown up feeling more or less invisible, so feeling eyes on him wherever he goes is a little disconcerting, especially with how it sets off his spidey senses like all the time. He’s still nowhere near on Tony’s level when it comes to being stalked by the paparazzi, but he can still tell when someone’s trying to sneak a photo of him on the subway or something.

It’s nothing he can’t handle though. He can deal with a little shit-talking behind his back. Sticks and stones and all that. He had been worried about Aunt May at first, wondering if her friends would give her a hard time about having a gold-digger for a nephew, but his worries were unfounded. Aunt May had told him, laughing, about how she shut down one of the ladies at the nail salon for making snide comments about him and got all the nail technicians to back her up on it. You don’t really mess with Aunt May.

Still, so far no one’s had the balls to talk shit straight to Peter’s face. He’s had some people in his classes and discussion groups who seem genuinely curious about what Tony Stark is like and ask him about it, but it’s mostly just non-confrontational small talk. It’s not as if it’s a hardship at all for Peter to talk about how great Tony is.

And he’s not gonna lie, there’s an undeniable feeling of pride at knowing that Tony Stark is his, that so many people know that Tony Stark is his. There’s a shallow part of him that preens at the openly astonished looks on people’s faces when he talks about Tony with intimate familiarity.

He kind of enjoys the way the eyes feel on him when Tony picks Peter up from campus in a dark burgundy Maybach, idling in front of Washington Square Park. Tony leans over and kisses him as soon as he climbs in the passenger seat and Peter giddily wonders if people can see them through the windshield.

“How was class today, baby?” Tony asks, pulling out onto the main road.

“The usual. I had statistics all day so it was a bit boring. All I could think about was meeting you at the end of the day.”

Tony chuckles. “Oh, so I’m a distraction now?”

“A most terrible distraction,” Peter confirms. “You’re going to need to bribe the faculty to get me to pass.”

“Anything for my sugar baby,” Tony smirks. He presses a button on the steering wheel and it starts driving on its own while his chair moves back to give him some space. He pats his lap and turns to Peter. “Speaking of, how ‘bout you come over here and give me some of that sugar?”

Peter grins and clambers over to straddle Tony’s waist, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and kissing him hungrily. Five days is much too long to go without having Tony between his legs.  The car drives itself, weaving through traffic while Peter and Tony make out in the driver seat. The windows have probably blacked out to give them some privacy, but Peter finds himself not really caring if people can see. Tony Stark is his and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

Peter’s brain is quickly on its way to turning into mush under the blissful haze of Tony’s kisses, at the feeling of the other man gradually growing hard under him.

Yet somehow his spidey senses still manage to push through the heady sensations and Peter moves purely on instinct when he sharply pulls away and slams a hand over the nanite housing on his chest. In an instant, the spidey suit has fully deployed, unfolding the waldoes that wrap around them both as Peter pulls Tony protectively against his chest.

Barely a second later, before either of them could react, something large slams into the side of the car, upending them as their vehicle flips on the road and lands upside down with a deafening crash.

--

Part 19

[magnoliasinbloom]

Crash Course Love

In between classes (which I’m still doing online with my lovely 7th graders, no sarcasm), here’s another chapter of these two fools. And it’s looooong!

As always, infinite thanks to @anna-swims​ and @lcbeauchampoftarth​ for being awesome betas.

AO3 :: Previously

9: Lallybroch [Jamie]

“We’re here,” I said, glancing through the Jeep’s windshield.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t think the ride would feel so… short,” Claire said, peering up at the house. It was kind of intimidating, I supposed; a giant stone manor in the middle of rolling fields. Like something out of a fairytale.

Except the wolves were waiting inside, ready to pounce on us.

“Are ye nervous?”

“A little. I’ll be fine.” She turned to me and gave me a smile, shouldering her black purse. I smiled back and ducked out of the Jeep to open her door. Claire climbed out, stepping carefully. “Wait! The flowers!” She turned to the backseat door and pulled out yellow lilies wrapped in butcher paper and tied with a silver ribbon. Slamming the door behind us, we walked up the steps to the door.

I wondered if we should hold hands to make it seem more realistic. When I’d picked her up at her flat—my eyes darting around like mad in case Annalise appeared—and I saw her dressed up, I’d wanted to reach out and take her hand immediately.

We had driven over in comfortable silence. Claire had mentioned she didn’t know what to expect from lunch, so she’d had a small breakfast—more Weetabix. I laughed when I thought of the amount of food Mam always cooked. She commented occasionally on the songs from my Spotify playlists, and we kept up an easy conversation.

My hand was halfway to the doorknob when my mother appeared, and immediately engulfed Claire in a hug. I stood there like an idiot while my mam practically suffocated her; all I could see of Claire was her bewildered expression over my mother’s shoulder.

“Um, hello?” Claire managed.

“Oh, Christ, I’m so happy to meet ye, Claire! Ye are Claire, aren’t ye? Oh, do come in, ye must be freezin’! Can I take yer coat? What’s this?” My mother interrupted her gushing welcome as Claire tried to press the flowers into her hand.

“Aye, Mam, good to see ye too,” I grumbled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Completely ignoring me, she patted my back and turned to Claire once more.

“They’re just flowers, you know, as a thank you for the invitation,” Claire stammered, blushing. She gestured with her hands as she spoke, clearly nervous. “Sorry I didn’t bring a vase.” My mother hugged her again tightly.

“They’re beautiful! Ye shouldn’t have!” Mam sniffed the lush blooms and ushered us further into the house. I trailed behind them, all but forgotten. I took off my own coat and followed them into the living room.

Mam was introducing Claire to my Da, William, and Jenny. My siblings, in turn, presented each of their partners. Jenny lost it completely and practically hurled herself at Claire in a vise-like hug. Claire couldn’t seem to lose the bewildered expression when confronted with the whole Fraser clan at once.

“Jenny, let the poor lass breathe,” I called out. I gave my Da a one-armed hug and clapped William and Ian on the back. I gave Jenny a gentle shove to get her to release Claire, which she returned twice as hard. “Ifrinn, Janet, that could bruise!”

“Jamie, language!” Mam warned. She led Claire over to Mary, who gave her a peck on the cheek and a warm smile. Jenny glanced over at me and gave me a discreet thumbs-up. I rolled my eyes at her approval.

“Where are the children, Jenny?” I missed the sounds of my rambunctious niece and nephew.

“Oh, off with Ian’s parents this weekend. Give us a bit of a break, ye ken.”

“When’s lunch then, Mam?” William asked.

“Will ye leave anything for the rest of us, Willie?” Ian joked, leading Jenny into the dining room. They both traded quips and insults while everyone made their way to the table.

“Here, Claire, sit next to Jamie.” Mam pointed out her seat and raised her eyebrows at me. I immediately stood behind the chair and held it out for Claire. She sat with a soft murmur of thanks. Da took his seat at the head of the table and winked at Claire, who smiled back and seemed more at ease.

“I’ll just bring the dishes in,” Mam called over her shoulder as she walked to the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything?” Claire asked, half-rising from her chair. Jenny and I both reached out to stop her.

“Nah. This is my mam’s thing. She doesna like for people to interfere with her cookin’. Even if it’s just servin’ it,” I said, while William nodded in agreement and stuffed a roll into his mouth.

“Really?” Claire looked around the table. Da leaned over to explain about Mam’s love affair with cooking, engaging her in conversation.

Mam came in with multiple dishes and trays, all laden with meat, chicken, salad, fresh bread, ham, and vegetables. It was all artfully arranged, in true accordance with her Cordon Bleu education.

Everyone dove in, while Claire watched in horrified fascination as food was served. I reached for her plate when she showed no inclination to dig in herself; she regarded me gratefully when I got her a bit of everything, unsure of what she’d like.

There was no silence at the table. Forks and knives clattered on dishes and conversations sprang all around. Mam gave Claire the third degree about her life; she tried to answer as politely as possible around a mouthful of food. Da insisted Claire call him Brian and asked about her flower shop, being somewhat of an amateur gardener himself.

Finally, after everyone had eaten their fill (and then some), my mother moved in for the kill. “So, Claire, how did ye and Jamie meet?”

Claire looked at me, and I nearly choked on the last bite of carrots. “Um, well…”

“It was at a coffee shop. She spilled her drink on me and offered to buy me another.”

“Yes, that’s it. And then we got to talking and exchanged numbers—”

“I asked her out and she said yes, that was a few weeks ago, and now here we are!” I added hastily.

My mother seemed on the verge of spilling joyful tears and Da positively beamed. Claire squeezed my hand under the table while we regrouped.

“Mrs. Fraser, everything was delicious. Could I help you clear up, make some tea or coffee?”

“Dear, please call me Ellen. And no, ye may not make the coffee, ye are our guest! Let's leave the dishes to the men, shall we? Ladies, care to join me in the living room?”

“Should I be worried, do you think?” Claire asked as she looked at my mother and the women.

“I think I’m the one who should worry,” I muttered, as Jenny and Mary pulled Claire away from me. Next thing I knew, Mam would pull out old photo albums of me with braces or as a toddler in the bath.

I was dragged into the kitchen to help wash up. The rule was, since Mam cooked, the rest of us had clean-up duty. Seemed only fair—except my mother used a ridiculous amount of kitchenware and appliances which had to be left spotless again. I kept my hands busy scrubbing away, until William sidled up to me.

“Sawney, a brathair,” Willie said, using my old nickname and clapping me hard on the shoulder. I jerked and he laughed, mussing up my hair.

“Stop it, ye eejit, I’ll break something,” I growled, spraying him with water.

“Well, I can certainly see what ye saw in Claire, she’s lovely,” Da commented, setting empty glasses next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt.

“Aye, Jamie, she’s grand,” Ian agreed, leaning against the kitchen island. “Ye look good together. Ye have a real connection.” I couldn’t tell from his tone if Jenny had appraised him of the truth.

“Have ye slept with her yet?” Willie asked.

I dropped the glass I was rinsing and it bounced in the sink with a clatter. I turned to gape at William, who was grinning.

“Willie, that is none of yer business!” Da chided, glaring at his firstborn.

“Arsehole,” I mumbled under my breath. Ian cleared his throat behind me.

“We understand if ye dinna want to tell us, it’s yer private life and—”

“I’m not telling ye anything about my sex life, aye?” I finally said, chucking the scrubbing sponge at Willie’s head. “And you!” I turned to Ian. “We could hear ye and Jenny in yer room at Christmas last year, and man, for Christ’s sake, it’s my own sister!”

They both had the good grace to look abashed for a moment, before offering apologies and heading back to the dining room for more dirty dishes. Da frowned, but said nothing.

I fetched the sponge from the floor and got back to scrubbing a frying pan before he spoke up.

“So Jamie, lad, are ye being safe?”

- - -

In the living room, Claire was perched on the big couch, with a photo album on her lap.

“Jamie, these pictures are amazing. Your mum has saved all these memories of you,” she commented, obviously delighted with the albums. Fortunately, Mam had updated the technology and newer photographs were stored in ‘the cloud’.

“Aye, she keeps one for each of us, full of birthdays, Christmases, all of it,” I said, casually claiming the space next to her. Claire bit her lip for a moment, misty-eyed. Having lost her parents so young, I didn’t imagine she had much in the way of photographs. A peek at her expression confirmed it. I touched her hand lightly in sympathy and she smiled.

“You’re lucky, you know. To have all of this. Your parents, your brother and sister.”

“I do know. They seem to really like ye, too.”

I realized that my family had left the room, and there was only Claire and me, our hands touching on our laps. I turned to look at her, and I could catch her scent—something like growing green things and jasmine. That strange spark from the coffee shop surfaced again, vibrating in the empty room, and I felt the urge to lean in and kiss her like I had almost done before. I was drowning in her amber eyes and they seemed to get closer and closer…

“Oi, it’s snowing!” William called out suddenly, and Claire and I sprang apart in shock.

The family all crowded around the windows in the living room, watching fat flakes fall in a white flurry.

“Well, the roads will be impassable,” Da said with a frown.

“There’s a snow storm headed this way, according to BBC,” Ian commented, scrolling on his mobile.

“Och, weel, ye’ll just have to spend the night here,” Mam said briskly. “Ye can sleep in yer old rooms.”

Ifrinn! Share a room with Claire? My parents would expect that? A hint of panic welled in my chest.

“Oh, Mrs. Fraser,” Claire began, glancing at me with worry in her eyes, “I can take the couch right here. If you have a few spare blankets—”

“It’s Ellen, dear, and please, dinna be silly! We’re all adults here. Ye can sleep wi’ Jamie in his own room.”

- - -

A/N: Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy out there! Thank you for your likes, reblogs, and comments - they mean the world. <3

[wildewebdesign-blog]

My weight loss journey

 This was me at the beginning of my journey

December 2018 I decided to stand on the scales to see just how heavy I was, and my god I was horrified by the digits I saw! Thats when my love/hate relationship with the weighing scales took a turn for the better. I then decided that my new years resolution would be to lose some weight and get in to shape! So, on the 1st of January 2019 I did just that!

I started to eat healthier and make healthier choices at first but my mindset on food remained the same, which as we all know (for those that have a food addiction) is a real pain in the backside as we just hate wasting food or leaving leftovers. I mean being a few pounds away from twenty nine stone wasnt good for me, my health or my amazing wife who has supported me throughout my entire journey so far! The first step was to cut my portion size down bit by bit so it wasnt a drastic change, stop having takeaways and give myself one day of the week where I could eat something naughty to help curve the cravings for the rest of the week (didn’t go so well, ate like a pig on crap food!) So, I limited myself eventually but that bit comes later in my story! The first week I had lost almost half a stone and was feeling on top of the world! I never thought I could lose weight, as I always gave up after a month or so, this time however I was determined to stick it out. I had an appointment with the doctors, can’t remember what for but the results from a blood test showed I was ALMOST pre-diabetic, so even more important to shift the weight! By going along with most of the official Slimming World guidelines and rules (didn’t go to meetings, not my thing!) I found it easier at first, but figured out very quickly that it had its limitations as some things may work for others but not for me so, I made some tweaks to it, first off, its not a diet. Its a way of life! That bit is very important as if its a diet, you can quit at anytime, whereas if it is a part of daily life, you can’t!

After four months of eating healthier, being a little more active I had a follow up appointment with my GP who actually referred me to the gym, which to be fair I was a little anxious about, I mean the stigma around gyms is they are full of muscular, skinny people but, I found they weren't! Others like me doing their best to shed a few pounds. I will admit, I got addicted to the endorphins and the rush you get afterwards! Oh did I mention that before I started in the gym I had lost three and a half stone already?

Those of you that are on Slimming World and are buying SW chips, or par boiling homemade chips… DON’T DO IT! There is a better way! Handy trick for you, you can either peel them or keep the skin on, but slice your potatoes into chips, spray an oven tray with enough frylight to coat the tray, place the chips on, salt/pepper them and spray more frylight on top to make them crispy and place in the oven at 200 degrees Celsius for half an hour (depending on how you like them) and they are gorgeous! Healthy chips without all the faff!

  Ok so, I left off last time after mentioning about my first visit to the gym. This was a whole new area of the world I hadn’t previously explored and was completely clueless! I knew how to use the bike and the treadmill but that was it. The fitness instructor I was assigned to was very inviting and kind, and always paid me compliments which helped boost my confidence whilst in the gym. I started on the TRX, bike, treadmill and squats to start with so, basically all cardio. Which I found relaxing to be fair. It got me into a routine, which I highly recommend for weight loss! Routine is one of the main things that has helped me get this far! Food routine and daily routine. After all, your body stores fat when you have irregular eating patterns as it doesn't know when it will be fed next. Sorry I digressed a little there.

 I found that once I am in the gym, headphones in and my favourite music playing I was in the zone, where I could push myself each week to work harder, do more and improve the statistics on my account to show myself I am capable of doing it. At this point I was only attending the gym twice per week. I did this for six months and had lost a total of six and a half stone at this point. I even lost weight over Christmas!

 Things changed in May 2020 thanks to the Corona Virus pandemic, where all the gyms, swimming pools etc all closed, so this is where I had to get creative to continue the weight loss and not just sit at home eating crap because I was stuck inside. So I headed over to Youtube and found one or two easy workout videos which I did every day, I was seeing great results! Losing more than I did whilst in the gym and feeling more energetic. I moved on to the video I still use every day today, Emi Wong 30 minute minute HIIT workout with no jumping. Not quite beginner but still a great workout, it has helped me get to the point where at this moment in time (04/06/2020) I am a pound away from a nine and a half stone loss! This is the part of my story where I can share some of the tricks I have used in order to get this far. Most of which are easy enough to do, but some will require self control and a great mental attitude!

 This is me now, weighing 19.2 stone! 

  1) Routine, as mentioned above this helps you to stay the course and also allows you more freedom if that makes any sense?

2) Drink plenty of water, this in turn helps the skin retain its elasticity which helps your skin bounce back instead of having saggy, loose skin afterwards.

 3) Eating meals which are healthy, but can be made exciting using herbs and spices to spruce them up a little, you can still have whatever you want but portion control is a must. I still eat sausages but they are Linda McCartney vegetarian sausages.

 4) Keep active, says it all really. No explanation needed.

 5) Change the way you think about food. Before I started this journey I LOVED pizza and now everytime I think about eating a slice I feel physically sick!

 6) Three square meals a day at regular times, for example everyday I have two weetabix, blueberries, grapes, raspberries and strawberries for breakfast. Then I have lettuce, cucumber, cheese and ham sandwiches for dinner and for the main meal I tend to go for gammon (fat removed), broccoli and the chips I mentioned above. I don’t get hungry during the day doing this, so im not liable to eat more than I should.

 7) Don’t be afraid to ask for help! People that want to see you in the best shape of your life are more than willing to help! NEVER be ashamed or afraid if you get tempted or have cheated by eating something you shouldn't have, we all do it! At the end of the day its your body, your choices and your life!

  So that is my story so far. Any questions? Want somewhere to start yourself? Feel free to comment below and I will answer when I can as my wife and I run two small businesses. One is a website design business called www.wildewebdesign.co.uk and the other is a craft business called www.wildeaboutcrafts.co.uk feel free to take a look :)

[ancientbooshartifacts]

When a gorilla tells you to do something, you bloody well do it

Author: LuridLolly

Year: 2010

Rating: PG

Characters: Naboo, Bollo, Jones, Vince, Howard

When a gorilla tells you to do something, you bloody well do it, because you’ve just met a talking gorilla and when reality gets that ridiculous, you shouldn’t fight it. At least, that’s what Jones reasoned when a gorilla approached (see: ambushed) him after a gig and told him that he was going to have to pretend to be someone named Vince for a few days. So Jones let himself be driven to Dalston in a spray-painted van by a laconic gorilla. When they walked up to a flat as bizarrely decorated as the House of Jones and met a tiny man dressed as the shah of Persia, Jones barely registered these things as surprising (though he did fleetingly wonder if someone had slipped pills into his alcopop at the club). It wasn’t until the tiny man and the gorilla were dyeing Jones’ hair black in the kitchen sink that he started to feel a touch of panic. When they put him forced him out of his own shirt and into a pink blouse belted with something both fringed and glittery, the panic turned into irritation. Jones stood in front of the mirror in what he had been told was Vince’s (and thus his) room. “Fuck no.” “Outfit very fashionable, like Vince,” the gorilla grunted. Jones watched in the mirror as the tiny man crossed his arms. “If you don’t pretend to be Vince, I’ll turn you into a puffer fish and leave you on the windowsill to shrivel up like a raisin.” Jones nibbled his thumbnail thoughtfully. “Mm. So wha’do I have to do, exactly?” The tiny man almost smiled. “Sleep in, fuss about your hair, chat up birds, worry about being fashionable, show up to work in the shop downstairs about mid-afternoon. Antagonize Howard for a bit, faff about, then go out to a club and drink too much.” Jones looked at his worried nail a moment before nodding. “And who’s Howard?” “Howard a ballbag,” the gorilla scoffed. “Yeah, a ballbag who’ll be your best mate for the next couple days,” the tiny man clarified. “Brilliant.” “And if Howard finds out you’re not the real Vince, Bollo here’ll rip off your arms,” the tiny man continued, indicating the gorilla, who helpfully mimed ripping out Jones’ arms. “Right. Can I know why?” “Howard’s absolute rubbish with secrets, and no one can know that Vince isn’t in Dalston. He’s in enough trouble as it is.” Jones nodded, because it was the only response he could think to give this vague explanation. “We’re off, then. We should be back in a day or two. Good luck, and remember—don’t fuck this up, or you’re dead. Bollo, get the carpet.” When his captors left the room, Jones climbed onto the mess of pillows that was probably meant to be the bed and curled up for a little sleep. Hopefully he would wake up to find this had all been a freakish dream and he would have a laugh and tell Dan about it. Maybe the story would even make Dan smile. Jones woke with a start when something touched his shoulder. “Vince? Are you awake?” Jones peered suspiciously at the lilac pillow in his immediate line of vision. It didn’t look familiar. Jones turned his head slowly, taking in the Bowie poster on the wall and mobile of bus tickets and bottle caps and peacock feathers that turned above him. “I made you some tea and toast, if you want it.” Apparently the dream wasn’t over. Jones looked over at the man standing next to the bed with a plate of toast and a mug. “Wotcher, Dan—this is my bad dream.” The man with the toast looked confused. “You, ah, had a bad dream?” Jones blinked. The man with the toast looked like Dan, but wasn’t. Dan was scruffy and shrewd; this man had on a cardigan and a trilby. “Terrible dream.” The man sat down on the edge of the bed, balancing the toast on his knee. “The balloon animals again?” “Sure.” “Well, no worries—it’s not real.” The man stood and placed the plate and mug on the bedside table. “Right.” Jones picked up a piece of toast. So, this bloke must be… “Howard?” The man turned back at the door. “Yeah, Vince?” “Thanks for the toast?” “No problem, little man.”

Jones spent some time eating his toast and riffling through Vince’s CDs (lots of electro rubbish and, inexplicably, Kings of Leon). Then he sat in front of the vanity and set up all the little bottles of nail varnish like dancing partners, with a canister of mousse working pomade-jar decks. Jones got tired of setting up a tiny bar on the back of hairbrush at about half two, and decided he would go down to the shop and see just how far he could push his luck in this unlikely adventure; he’d already managed to meet Howard and, seeing as he hadn’t been turned immediately into fish jerky, he hadn’t mucked it up too badly. And Howard looked a bit like Dan, and a familiar face might be a bit comforting. Especially a familiar face attached to someone who made toast. “Alright?” Jones ventured when he stepped into the shop. “Afternoon, Vince. You got in awfully late last night.” “I…got kidnapped by a monkey.” Well, it was true. Howard, who was stood at the counter, looked up from his book. “Are the monkeys trying to steal your face again?” he asked, his voice lacking the derision Jones might have expected. “Uh, sort of.” Jones ducked into the bubble chair next to a rack of shirts that had looked like they had been lifted from the seventies and idly picked up a copy of Cheekbone. The silence that followed was apprehensive, at least on Jones’ part. After pretending to study an article on the rise of the headband over the past ten years, Jones finally said, “So, ah, how has your day been?” “Oh.” Howard sounded a bit surprised. Weren’t these two best mates? “I’m glad you asked. I have, in fact, sold three jazz records this morning. Yes, Vince, I think you’re going to have to come to grips with the fact that people are finally embracing jazz as the true music of the world. They feel its power. They respect it.” Jones glanced at Howard, who was smirking self-importantly. “I see.” “You do?” “Or, ah, no way?” “You’d better believe it, little man; we are standing on the precipice of the Age of Jazz! Chickah chick-aaah.” Jones smiled to himself. This bloke was a loon. A pretty girl in a checked pink minidress came in and smiled at Jones. And in the ensuing conversation, with much giggling from the girl in the minidress having nothing to do with Jones actually being funny, Jones somehow managed to sell her the pop tab iguana statue in the corner. The girl giggled her way out of the shop, iguana clutched to her chest, leaving Jones with sixty Euros and her phone number. Jones handed the money to Howard, dumbfounded. “You’ve made a sale and gotten a number after half an hour of sitting about. Everything’s so easy for you.” “Apparently.” The resignedly bitter way Howard said it reminded Jones so much of Dan that Jones asked, “Do you like tikka masala?” before he really thought about it. Howard fussed with the till. “The tikka masala from the restaurant down the street is awful. We’re better off getting something from the chip shop.” “No, I could make some for dinner.” “You don’t cook.” “I don’t?” Howard closed the till. “Remember when you tried to make a Panini and ended up lighting the bread on fire and getting melted provolone all over one of Naboo’s books? He docked my pay for a month.” “He docked your pay? Never mind. I can cook now. I…read a pamphlet.” “Alright, but if you make a mess, I’m not cleaning it.” “I’ll nip down to the store.” Jones drummed his fingers on the countertop. “If that’s alright.” Howard smiled. “I think I can manage here without you.”

Jones had been looking for a spoon for ten minutes. He’d found a cauldron, and a drawer full of whisks of all sizes, and what appeared to be a fully operational dish-sponge discotheque. He’d managed to locate the plates and bowls, and some cereal (one box of Weetabix and a dozen boxes of something called Sugary Sugar Rings). But he couldn’t find even one bloody spoon. “Need any help?” Howard asked from the doorway. “Do y’have any sodding spoons?” “Oh-ho, Vince, we haven’t any spoons for that sort of thing. Wooden spoons, though, we do have—top drawer by the fridge.” Jones could have sworn he’d checked that drawer already, but when he looked again, a spoon had appeared, lying coyly between the can opener and the vegetable peeler. “Cheers.” The cooking went largely without incident, though the spoon kept trying to sneak off with a dish that was lurking about the perimeter with a tiny knapsack. Jones finally had to lock the dish in with the whisks just so he could get anything done. He brought Howard a bowl of tikka masala and flopped down on the couch with him. “What are we watching?” Jones asked. “The news.” “Do we have to?” Howard chuckled and flipped over to a rerun of Colobos the Crab. “Only because you made dinner, though,” he grumbled good-heartedly. The tikka masala was good and Jones felt better than he had since this adventure started, and he fell asleep quite suddenly, fingers still around his empty bowl. -- Jones woke up eyeing the same lilac pillow that had greeted him the day before. It was a moment before he could remember where (or who) he was. He didn’t recall getting into bed last night, and had to assume that Howard had carried him. That, and the fact that his shoes and blouse had been removed (again, presumably by Howard), made him feel a bit squidgy about the head and he was tempted to go back to sleep to escape the feeling. But his mouth tasted like sorrow and he needed a wee. So Jones got up and prepared himself to face another day as Vince. -- He opted for a slightly less mortifying outfit for his second day “on the job” as it were. Vince owned several hundred brightly-coloured t-shirts, so Jones figured Vince must wear them at least occasionally, and that it would be alright for Jones-as-Vince to wear one, too. Jones tried to fluff his hair as slowly as possible, but he had run out of things to keep him busy by half nine, so he made himself some tea. “Alright?” he asked Howard when he got downstairs. Howard looked at the clock and then at Jones. “What are you doing in so early?” “I woke up early.” Howard waited expectantly. “A woodchuck…came in through my window…and told me I had to…get up early?” Jones had never said anything so stupid in his whole life. But Howard seemed to accept the statement. “Well, good. You’re just in time to help me reorganize the stoppered bottles in the cabinet.” Two hours later, after shifting some 600 bottles about in a glass-front cabinet (bottles that often shifted right back when Jones wasn’t looking, so they had to be moved two or three times, cheeky bastards), Jones decided that if he ever saw a decorative glass bottle again, he’d smash it. Possibly against his own head. Howard closed the cabinet door. “Captain cabinets, trapped in cabinets,” Howard chanted, grinning mischievously at Jones. Jones backed away slowly. “Um?” “Can he get…out…Vince, are you feeling alright?” Jones had backed in the coat stand. “I guess not.” “Come on, it’s time for lunch. I’ll make you a Panini.” “Cheers, Howard.”

Howard frightened away most of the customers that came in during the afternoon with his overeager smile that showed too many teeth and his story about a pencil case, but Jones wasn’t bothered. He helped close up (much to Howard’s surprise), and they went down to the chip shop to pick up dinner. Jones was stretched out on the floor, sucking the salt off his fingers when Howard asked, “Round of cards, Vince?” holding up a deck with cartoon peacocks on the back. “Go Fish?” Howard laughed. “Get ready to lose, little man!” Go Fish was the only card game Jones knew how to play. Dan had once tried to teach him how to play poker; Jones had understood about the pairs and three-of-a-kinds, but got all muddled over houses and straights, and Dan had given up. Jones had wished he were cleverer, so he could make Dan stay and play with him, just make him stay at the kitchen table across from him and have a bit of a laugh. But Howard seemed content to play cards for hours, arsing his way through round after round of Go Fish, mostly losing, crowing and bragging wildly when he won—“I’ve won again! I’m king of fishing! A legend among men!”—and Jones laughed and joked and cheated just a bit to keep things interesting. At half eleven, Howard rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Good times, Vince, good times. Go Fish reminds me of the zoo.” Howard smiled wistfully. “Good times.” Jones shuffled his cards. “Yeah…the zoo.” “Thank you for spending time with me today, Vince. It was nice.” “Of course, Howard—you’re my best mate, right?” Jones reached across the fishpond and touched Howard’s wrist. Howard jerked at the touch but Jones held on tighter. “And I had a nice time today, too.” Jones knew somewhere in the back of his head that he shouldn’t kiss Howard, but he was all muddled from the stress of pretending to be someone he didn’t even know, and by how Howard was like Dan but nicer and sillier and how that made Jones miss grumpy impatient Dan all the more. So of course Jones kissed Howard anyway. Howard’s pulse skittered under Jones’ fingers, and Howard’s lips were unsure against Jones’, but his eyes were screwed up with nervous wanting and his moustache was tickly. Jones wondered if Dan’s scruffy cheeks would tickle like that. Soon there was a bit of needy huffing, and tongues were introduced into the proceedings, and Howard got his hand into Jones’ hair and Jones crawled over the fishpond to get his arms around Howard’s shoulders. “Vince, oh Vince,” Howard said breathlessly when Jones stroked his fingers along Howard’s jaw. And then Jones had to stop. Howard looked a bit lost when Jones pulled away. “Vince?” Fuck. “Howard. I’m…you and…we need to talk. But not right now. Maybe tomorrow.” “You’re just going to mock me and toss me aside again, aren’t you?” Again? Vince and Howard obviously had serious issues. Issues that Jones had just made more serious. “I…no. Just...we’ll talk.” And Jones kissed Howard lightly one more time before standing up and walking out of the room.

Jones wiggled back into his own clothes because he felt trapped and itchy in a stranger’s clothes. Bowie stared at Jones from his poster. “Fuck off, Bowie. I’m not him.” “What about Bowie?” Jones looked over at the window, where his face peered in at him. “Alright.” “Alright.” “Could you open the window?” Jones pushed the window fully open. Except for the god awful outfit—something orange with diamantes (Jones could almost hear Dan pulling out his hair over it)—the man who climbed in the window might have been Jones himself. “Vince?” “Cheers. And who’re you?” “Jones. All the…trouble sorted out, then?” Vince laughed. “For now,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Everything go alright here?” Jones thought for a moment before he responded. “Well, Howard gave me something, but it was meant for you.” “Really? Can I have it?” And then Jones really had no choice but to step up to Vince and kiss him on the lips. Jones stepped back. “Oh.” “It went on a bit longer and there was more tongue, but I’ll keep that bit.” “Oh.” Jones nibbled at his thumbnail. “I told him we’d talk about it tomorrow. But by ‘we’ I meant the him ‘n the real Vince. I hope that’s OK.” Vince looked down at the vanity. “I like the hair product club scene you’ve set up,” he smiled. “Vince, Howard’s really…well, he’s rubbish at cards and he only has the one story ‘bout a pencil case, but he makes toast and lets you sleep in and thinks you’re pretty amazing. Even when it’s not really you but some hack who’ s playin’ you.” Vince looked at Jones for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah.” Then Vince smiled. “Yeah.” “Oi, ballbags, let’s get a move on!” the tiny man shouted from outside the window. “Oh, right—you can go home now. Thanks for this, though.” Vince stuck out his hand and Jones shook it. “Cheers.” The tiny man stuck his turbaned head in the window. “Move it along; we’ve only just got enough juice to get you home.” “Good luck with Howard,” Jones called as he climbed out the window and onto the magic carpet floating outside the window (because this story had to end just as ridiculously as it started, Jones reasoned). As he found his balance behind the gorilla and the tiny man, he remembered something, and leaned back in the window. “Also, Howard thinks you can cook now, so he might be expecting you to make up some tikka masala one day.” As the carpet lifted into the night sky, all of Dalston heard Vince’s cry. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”

[onceafuturequeen]

Nala is in town and ready to *smacks floor* RUMBLE

This is essentially my app headcanons plus I’m putting some possible connects at the end!

There is no country in the world that Nala hasn’t wanted to go to. And when they say ‘go to’, they don’t mean visit. Nala thinks that fast tourism is no way to embrace and learn about a culture, so every trip must be at least a month long. Nala regrets not joining the Peace Corps right after school, which was their initial plan, but living in Carthay has become a new destiny for them. Admittedly, they are extremely stubborn, but somehow the people of Carthay managed to change her plans almost immediately.

Nala was born in Guyana, which is also their parents’ birthplace, but they didn’t stick around long enough for Nala to learn to walk there. Still, even with their long to-do list of places to see, Nala always makes time to visit the family they have in Guyana.

Nala Kelly is the founding member of the Black Lives Matter chapter in Carthay which is another tie they have keeping them in Carthay indefinitely until they feel the chapter is self-sufficient enough to run without them.

They’ve been recently trying to get in touch with Tony Givot to hear his thoughts on the consistent gentrification of Little San Fransokyo and to work side-by-side to help his business stay afloat and prevent others from losing their livelihoods and homes.

Nala goes through cereal boxes like water. Like, they will go through a multiple boxes of the PLAINEST sugarless cereal. Weetabix? Life? Raisin Bran? Shelves of the stuff in their mobile home (it’s an old, salvaged RV they fixed up) and did I mention water earlier?

They’ve got one of those GIANT ASS S’Well water bottles which is in theme with their reusable EVERYTHING from reusable shopping bags and sandwich baggies to recycled wooden kitchen utensils and bowls.

Connections: Someone with a grievance in town that Nala is trying to help. Another activist! A travel aficionado. A person they hate because they’re dumb (not intellectually but like socially ignorant). And anything you want!!! Hit me up!!!

[faithhopeloveandtherapy]

Non-sleeping baby is here for his weekly overnight stay. It took him a while to get to sleep as per usual. I can never convince him to drink much milk at bedtime so tonight I put most of his bottle of milk on to a weetabix which he gobbled down. At least I’ll know he has a full tummy when he wakes in the night.

Booked an adventure to Finland for April to round off our child free travel before we get ready for another foster placement. We’re holidaying at a rate of one country a month at the moment ✈��� Ireland, Portugal, Germany and Finland for Jan, Feb, March and April.

In other news, next week I’m taking two siblings, a toddler and a baby, for a week of holiday care. As well as 2 yr old twins one day, non-sleeping baby for his night, and a 1 yr old for an afternoon. It’s going to be a busy week. The toddler is in nursery three days though. The only pinch points are one lunchtime when I have my final counselling session, and 9am one day when toddler needs to be at nursery at the same time that the twins arrive. Thankfully H is super flexible with his working hours so he can help out.

And in yet other news, the car electrics have gone a bit weird and our headlights and reverse lights keep turning themselves randomly on. I woke up this morning to loads of messages from the street whatsapp telling me we’d left the lights on. The car has been to the electrician today, and he hasn’t solved the issue but he’s stopped the reverse lights coming on randomly. Unfortunately he’s also stopped them coming on at all, even when the car is in reverse. He’s sent the car back to us to see how the lights behave over the next few days. Then we’ll review. Ugh cars. Why do they have to go wrong!!

[survey--s]

243.

Were you upset when you found out certain things weren’t real? (santa, tooth fairy..) I don’t remember ever believing that those things were real in the first place. My parents just told me they were all fun stories.

Name something you’re proud of. brag a little bit. My business. Even with COVID hitting hard, I’ve managed to build up a solid base of clients and my books are now full. I’m finally doing something I love - my mental health is so much better and my physical health is improving too.

Where would you like to go right now? Bed, lol. No, in all seriousness I’m happy on the sofa for now but today was just insanely busy and now I’m absolutely exhausted.

Which store would you like to win $1000 for? The supermarket - I could feed myself for a year with £1000.

What do you usually eat for breakfast? I kind of switch between three different meals - toast and a yoghurt, weetabix with fruit, or croissants/pastries. And drinks-wise, I always have a coffee and a glass of juice.

Do you pay any attention to celebrity drama? Not really, but I have kind of been following the Johnny Depp trial.

Name a random fact. There used to be a breed of beagle called the “pocket beagle” which existed in Elizabethan times - hunters used to literally carry them around in their pockets, lol. Lots of dodgy breeders claim to still sell them but they’re just runts and no longer actually exist as a breed.

What’s been an embarrassing phase you went through? My teenage emo phase, hahah.

Would you ever move a far distance for a relationship? I don’t really need to now, but in the past the furthest I moved was an hour or so away, which was worth it, for sure.

What’s the ugliest animal in your opinion? Angler fish.

What about cutest? Baby emperor penguins. THE FLUFF.

Are you good at math? I’m not bad at it, but I never enjoyed it and always found it really boring.

What song describes your life currently? I have absolutely no idea.

What popular food do you dislike? Eggs.

How long could you be famous before you got “canceled”? Probably not long at all, but I can’t stand the whole “cancel culture” thing.

How old were you when you got your first cell phone? Fourteen or fifteen. They weren’t really a “thing” when I was younger than that. I mean, they existed but not to the extent they do today - it was all PAYG and you had to pay like 15p for a text, lol.

Are you in any pain currently? Yeah, my legs are achy from riding - Emma had me doing stirrup-less sitting trot and keeping my legs in position made my thighs burn something proper, lol.

What’s the closest object to you that is red? The hoody I’m wearing, the blanket I’m sat under, the cushion I’m leaning against, the blankets next to me and my living room walls are all red.

Do you have any cats? I have three black cats.

Are you impulsive? I can be, but only for really minor things in life.

What 3 things do you think you’d need during a zombie apocalypse to survive? Weapons, food, anti-zombie medication.

What’s the last meal you’ve had? Quorn nuggets, sweet potato fries and sweetcorn for a very late lunch, lol.

Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Nope.

What’s a law you would create if possible? One that made it illegal for people not to indicate, lol.

Have you given any thought about what the Christian God looks like? My only thought about the Christian God is that he doesn’t exist.

What’s your most used emojis? Ones that can’t be shown on here.

What age would you choose to be forever if you had to choose? I really wouldn’t want to stay the same age forever.

How many slices of pizza can you eat in 1 sitting? I can quite easily demolish a whole pizza if I’m hungry enough, lol.

Do you prefer to fix things yourself or always call an expert? It depends - I’ll try and do it myself but if it involves water/electricity I normally get Mike or my father-in-law to do it, lol.

[deafeningmoonmusic]

On-the-go Breakfast Products Market is projected to reach around US$ 1.9 billion by 2027 and growing at CAGR of 4.3%

On-the-go breakfast products are food products that do not require cooking can be consumed directly. These products category includes sandwiches and burgers, egg meals, bakery products, sausages and salamis, beverages, breakfast bars, and cereal meals. On-the-go breakfast products are highly nutritious and convenient as they contain healthy vegetable, fats, fiber, and fruits to keep full and energized throughout the day. These types of breakfasts are ideal for the working population and busy work schedule who don't have time for cooking food. On-the-go breakfast products are gaining huge demand from the urban population due to growing western food culture and diet among these people. On-the-go breakfast also helps to maintain weight with essential nutrients throughout the day.

The global on-the-go breakfast products market is projected to reach around US$ 1.9 billion by the end of 2027, in terms of revenue, growing at CAGR of 4.3% during the forecast period (2019-2027).

Market Dynamics

The global on-the-go breakfast products market has witnessed significant growth in recent past years, owing to the rising demand for convenient food products among consumers. Based on product type, the global on-the-go breakfast products market is bifurcated into breakfast cereals and dairy-based breakfast cereals. Among these segments, the breakfast cereals segment dominated the global on-the-go breakfast products market in 2018, owing to the increasing demand for low-calorie breakfast food products among consumers. This factor is estimated to drive the growth of the global on-the-go breakfast products market during the forecast period.

Request Copy Of This Business Report: https://www.coherentmarketinsights.com/market-insight/on-the-go-breakfast-products-market-752

Major Keyplayers: Quaker Oats Company, Kellogg Co., General Mills Inc., MOMA, Uncle Toby’s, Bagrry’s India Ltd., Sanitarium, Anchor, Weetabix Ltd., and Nestle S.A.

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[laura-elizabeth91]

It was about 7pm on Thursday — five hours into a showdown with her Brexit “war cabinet”— that Theresa May revealed her hand and persuaded senior ministers both to agree a policy on leaving the EU and that she might have a future as prime minister. After months of obfuscation May and the other members gathered in the boardroom at Chequers, the prime minister’s country retreat, where she asked her chief civil service negotiator, Oliver Robbins, to outline what she had in mind. It is a measure of May’s enigmatic nature that only one of her ministers — David Davis, the Brexit secretary — had any idea what Robbins was about to say.

“She does treat everybody equally,” one cabinet minister joked. “She keeps everybody in the dark.”

Robbins mapped out a four-point plan. When Britain begins trade talks with the EU in March the UK will: ● Demand mutual recognition of standards for goods traded between the UK and the EU ● Make a public commitment that British standards will remain as high as those of the EU ● Pledge to keep rules and regulations “substantially similar” ● Insist upon the creation of a dispute mechanism to oversee areas where the UK wants to diverge from EU regulations — and that the European Court of Justice would have no role in it.

One of those present explained: “We are going to be associate members of various agencies on things like aviation, chemicals and pharmaceuticals and then we get [EU] market access and don’t need to have our products checked in more than one jurisdiction. We can decide at any time, in the full knowledge that there are consequences, that we don’t want to be regulated in this way.”

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In the key moment of the meeting May turned immediately to Boris Johnson, the most outspoken Brexiteer, and asked his opinion, putting the foreign secretary on the spot. The fourth point was enough for him. “It answers the requirement to take back control of our laws,” Johnson said. “This is something which we can sell to the country and will unite the party.”

Next up was Philip Hammond, usually the most outspoken minister pushing for close alignment with the EU. “This is broadly a good paper,” the chancellor said. May visibly relaxed. Her two most awkward ministers were on board. There was even time for levity. Another who was present said: “If you both agree with it, there must be something wrong.”

There was an immediate understanding that May had played her cards well. “Her wisdom was that she got Olly to explain it,” one cabinet minister said. “If it was a complete stinker then it would have been Olly who got lacerated.” Instead, Robbins received plaudits, even from Brexiteers who have seen him as a malign force guiding Britain to a softer EU exit than they would like.

“It was like watching live television,” one minister said. “You didn’t know whether it was all going to end in tears or not. She held the room. She’s got the title and the status but it felt much more like she rose to it. People finished with a new-found respect for her.” Another added: “She did an absolutely brilliant job. She kept everybody guessing.”

The breakthrough came only after a heated debate and a drama in Downing Street 23 hours earlier which had left the Brexiteers fearful that they were being “shafted”. Davis travelled more than 6,400 miles last week meeting EU counterparts but his most important mission came on his return to the UK at 8pm on Wednesday. On reading Robbins’s proposed draft plan when he finally reached No 10, the Brexit secretary launched into action.

“The paper had some language which was going to lead to some people in the room exploding,” one official said. Davis went in and out of No 10 for nearly three hours to meet May and ensure the so-called divergence mechanism would be acceptable to Johnson and Michael Gove, the environment secretary.

“DD wrestled it into shape,” a cabinet source said. “It was a script written by Olly Robbins, produced by David Davis and directed by Theresa May — with Boris, as the first viewer, delighted.”

Davis’s discovery that the May-Robbins plan needed surgery was not the only thing unnerving the Brexiteers as the meeting began. A document on the transition period, published on Wednesday, that did not set a time limit for Britain’s full departure from the EU, had caused angst.

Liam Fox, the international trade secretary, led the charge because his ability to negotiate free trade deals is curtailed during the transition period. “Liam is concerned that he’s going to be able to get on and do his job,” one cabinet minister said.

The tensions erupted at Chequers when Greg Clark, the business secretary, gave a presentation on the consequences of divergence for the car industry. Johnson interrupted to say divergence was essential to ensure innovation. He cited the way EU rules had stopped him changing the design of lorries in London while he was mayor to make conditions safer for cyclists, along with a ban on the most powerful vacuum cleaners designed by the British firm Dyson.

“Boris’s big thing is that he wants to be able to innovate,” a colleague said. “He must be seeing James Dyson all the time. He quotes him the whole time.”

Clark, usually one of the most self-effacing ministers, questioned whether the British market was big enough for manufacturers to design products for it alone. “What is the trade-off here?” he asked. “There are 425,000 jobs at risk in the automotive sector.” Another minister said: “Greg had his Weetabix. He really roared. Boris was quite taken aback.”

May stopped the fight, telling Johnson that he would get to speak first in the next session, where the deal was finally unveiled. “She was like a very efficient school teacher,” one source said. “She was quite tough with Boris.”

The exchange unnerved Johnson who, allies claimed, had been contemplating resignation if the meeting had not gone as he wanted. “It was a very long and torrid day,” one friend said. “For much of it he thought it was going in totally the wrong direction. He thought there might be a long walk home.” After the dinner that concluded the day, Johnson’s allies proclaimed that “divergence has won”.

The day was orchestrated by May and her aides to create an atmosphere of solidarity and manoeuvre ministers into compromise. “There was a slight element of Cluedo about it,” one participant said.

Discussions started in the grand hall of and moved to three other rooms. Ministers’ mobile phones were confiscated, forcing colleagues who had spent months briefing against each other to talk.

“During the Oslo peace process the Norwegians got the Arabs and Israelis into an agreeable location in the Norwegian countryside and plied them with smoked salmon,” one minister noted.

“In the same way, if you get a group of Tories in a country house and give them cups of tea and shortbread biscuits, naturally it tends towards harmony.”

Johnson and Clark had a friendly conversation in a tea break after their clash. Those present hope the spirit of unity will hold. “We are bonded in a way we weren’t,” one said. “There was a magic.”

Such was the mood that even the lugubrious Hammond found time to laugh at himself. When David Lidington, May’s deputy, made a downbeat technical point he said: “I don’t want to sound too Eeyore.” The chancellor piped up: “No, that’s my job.”

Ministers might have finally made a deal among themselves but can they sell it to their EU partners? The next day Donald Tusk, president of the European Council, dismissed the UK’s plan as “based on pure illusion”, complaining that it amounted to “cherry picking” and an attempt by Britain to have its cake while eating it.

Tusk will meet May for talks in No 10 on Thursday. She will also hold a special cabinet meeting that day. On Friday she will make a speech outlining the UK’s position, with Newcastle the most likely location. Despite her success at Chequers, much was left unresolved. “The main question, ‘What can we diverge on and when?’ hasn’t been properly discussed or explored,” a cabinet source said.

May will have problems keeping her top team in line. Hammond made clear he thinks the proposals are “unnegotiable” and will never be accepted by the EU, something that puts him on a collision course with Johnson, who has told friends that the plan has to be Britain’s bottom line, not an opening bid.

A source familiar with Johnson’s thinking said: “Boris makes no distinction between the offer and our bottom line. This is what we must get.”

May was left in little doubt about the weakness of her position in parliament by a political discussion at the start of the summit. The Conservative chief whip, Julian Smith, “laid it on the line” and warned of the “real, real danger” of Tory rebels uniting with Labour to keep Britain in the customs union.

Davis discussed the threat of hardline Brexiteers under Jacob Rees-Mogg, who have privately threatened to force a leadership election if May drops her opposition to a customs union.

As another minister put it: “The election of Jacob [to lead the European Research Group] is a sign that they are militarising and have tanks on our lawn.”

Karen Bradley, the Northern Ireland secretary, told May she could not be sure her DUP allies would “turn up” for key votes. And there was a discussion of the prospect of Sinn Fein’s seven MPs taking their seats if the UK does not ensure that there is no hard border between Northern Ireland and the republic.

Some Eurosceptics outside the cabinet put little faith in May and her team holding their fragile truce together in the face of intransigence in Brussels.

“Cabinet continues to live in a parallel universe,” one said. “The DD-May plan is doomed. Barnier will smash DD over the head and No 10 will fold as always.”

Even cabinet ministers will not believe that the deal is secure until they see May’s speech. “It’s very important that the rats don’t get at this now,” one said. “We don’t want it unscrambled.” But in a process that has been as frustrating as it has been long, the week represents progress.

“In a not particularly hotly contested field it was a good day for the government,” the minister said.

Another described it as May’s best day since the general election: “She’s done a good job, this is a success for her. There may be tougher sessions to come but she is keeping one hell of a plate spinning. That is winning hearts and minds.”

[thomasmarleyblog]

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