#pat ramsey

[ylojgtr]

ooh this is perfect! i can tell you all about revolutionary harmonica players!! i will give neil a little credit since he introduced me and im sure many other harmonicists to the instrument, but i assure you there are SO many better players out there

definitely gotta check out deford bailey (pronounced dee-ford). he was a master at and greatly popularized the train imitation and fox chase styles (<this video has flickering for some reason just fyi) and is largely responsible for country harmonica, being a founding member of the grand ol opry

little walter is obviously a must. his approach to the instrument, melodic, dirty and presice, set the standard for chicago blues playing. while he probably wasn't the first to do it, he certainly popularized the use of a microphone while playing which helped the harmonica stay relevant in the age of electric instruments and added a unique distorted tone

sonny terry is also blues, but a very different style. he used a lot of chordal rhythms for accompaniment and really was the first person to play anything like what he did, it's kinda hard to explain

all three of those guys influenced charlie mccoy, one of the most recorded session musicians in history and sort of the pioneer of country and bluegrass harmonica.

there's a direct lineage from mccoy to one of my personal favourite players, jason ricci (solo @1:48), whose mentor pat ramsey (solo @1:50) applied super-fast bluegrass style licks to blues. jason took it a step further, delving into punk, hard rock and funk with an extremely idiosyncratic style. (i had a hard time choosing which song to link but i think this one is a succinct, flashy example of an iconic era of his career. more are in the playlist!)

jason's style also makes heavy use of a technique called overbending, which is probably the most common way to play chromatic notes on a diatonic harmonica. typically, a harmonica is tuned to have only the notes of one major scale, which is why most players have different harmonicas in different keys. but it is possible to play some notes between the scale degrees by bending, which was pioneered by black american musicians before being widely recording, but there are still some notes that can't be played bent

that's where howard levy (solo @1:50 but you should watch the whole thing 😳) comes in (probably my favourite harmonica player ever). he was a jazz piano player before picking up harmonica and decided to start practicing scales on harp the same way he did piano. of course, not all the notes were there, but somehow in trying to bend a note that didn't bend he got a different sound. he ended up becoming the first person to really master this technique, finally bringing the diatonic harmonica into jazz and other more complex music.

last major suggestion, brendan power. his early influences include sonny terry and charlie mccoy but his style has become defined by his harmonica inventions. after learning that charlie mccoy tuned his harmonicas differently (there's a really cool story about how he started doing that) brendan set out to create the ultimate diatonic tuning, since standard tuning wasn't intended to be used in any of the stuff it's used in now, it just happens to work pretty well. but what if it worked PERFECTLY for whatever style you were playing? his most famous tunings include paddy richter (for irish music) powerdraw (for more ease of playing blues) and powerbender (my personal favourite that's great for everything from jazz to hard rock). he also invented half-valving, which i won't get into but basically gives you the ability to bend all notes in different ways, which works on diatonic and chromatic harmonicas. his work has really bridged the gap between the two instruments. he's also created double decker harmonicas, modular reed harmonicas, switchable octave harmonicas, extended range harmonicas and all sorts of harmonicas with extended expressiveness in about a hundred different ways. his playing is also exceptional. he's a very diverse but recognizable player capable of fitting in just about anywhere but you're always sure it's him when you hear that distinctive sound

so those are the main harmonica players id suggest. if you're looking for more id recommend will wilde (hard rock/metal player who uses his own tuning and WILL BLOW YOUR MIND), todd parrott (incredible bluegrass player who takes advantage of modern harmonica techniques in a traditional setting), carlos del junco (a blues/jazz/roots player with a very unique, technical style), jimmy reed (blues singer with a highly influential harmonica sound), joel andersson (innovative european folk player who uses many novel harmonica designs and is also a fantastic harmonica technician), p.t. gazell (western swing and jazz player who uses half-valved diatonics to get chromatic notes instead of overbends) and konstantin reinfeld (he really plays everything, from jazz to classical to hip hop to tango to bollywood music. all on diatonic harmonica)

here's a playlist with all the songs i linked and more! i hope other people will see this post too if there's one thing i can't stand it's harmonica ignorance

Like any person of culture, tonight I sought out a list of musical artists who revolutionized the usage of the humble harmonica. The list I found involved Neil Young's Heart of Gold.

Needless to say, I entered a berserker state.

[gameofthunder66]

'Batman Forever' (1995) film

-watched 9/27/2023- 2 [1/4] stars- on Max

[yetihideout]

This is amazing and you need to watch it.

The Women of Weber Place (music by Brian Bennett and Alan Hawkshaw, “Dossier”) 💥

[godsprettiestprincess]

The true tragedy of spn is that late seasons lucifer is fundamentally just a brat trying to get someone to pay attention to him — but because he’s an archangel and not a twinky discord kitten that attention getting is “killing people” and “taking over heaven” instead of stealing food off of someone’s plate or crawling in their lap, which makes anyone who he’d want love from murderous toward slash terrified of him 😔

[dopamine-factory]

[ohmygraves]

i'm coming down with a flu i think so how about some ghost taking care of sick!reader?

when you wake up in the morning, you feel like you have swallowed pieces of glass in your sleep. your eyes felt hot, watering as you tried to rub it away to no avail. your sinuses felt awful too, you can't breathe properly through your nose. and worst of all you noticed that it's not even morning anymore, as the clock on your nightstand says 13:47 instead.

you started to panic, of course, you missed work and worried about getting in trouble with your boss, frantically searching for your phone. you saw it being charged just beside the clock (not where you left it, clearly you always fell asleep on your phone so it should be on the bed), confused as you unplugged it. your husband must've charged it on your behalf.

expecting for the worst, you braced for at least 53 missed calls from your boss and coworkers, though finding none instead. this surprises you, as you clearly know that your boss would've eaten you alive if you didn't return his calls, let alone missing most of the work hours.

simon suddenly walked in, placing a cup of hot honey lemon concoction on the nightstand. this confuses you evenmore.

"aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"well, you're at home yourself, love. aren't you supposed to be at work?"

when you rolled your eyes in annoyance, simon couldn't help but chuckle, sitting down beside you on your shared bed.

"asked th' old man to let me stay home today. said i'll get the whole base sick with the germs i carried to work."

as ridiculous as it sounds, at least it makes a lot of sense. you took a small tentative sip from the cup, flinching from the temperature. you didn't expect it to be so hot, then again simon always liked his beverages scalding.

"what about my work—"

"called your workplace for you, sweetheart. just rest for now, you sound worse than price today."

"you're so mean..."

"well i love you too."

he stood up, giving your head a small pat, his lips curled into a small smile. "i'll get you some food so you can take your meds."

you nodded weakly, unsure what else to say now since now your head feels like it's spinning. you placed the hot cup back on the nightstand, not wanting to spill it and getting hot lemon all over the bed or the carpet. no way in hell you're cleaning all the mess when you can't even stand up.

you must've fallen asleep afterwards, as simon woke you up, a bowl of hearty cream soup in hand. it has all of your favorite things in it, and smells surprisingly good. that's odd, simon doesn't really cook.

"where'd you buy this...?" you asked, clearly can't see him cooking this from scratch.

"i made this for you, love. now stop being snarky and eat it."

you didn't even have the energy to protest, just taking small bites from the bowl. it was surprisingly tasty, although a little too salty for you. some of the vegetables are also a little undercooked. now this is more like what you expected.

"not bad, gordon ramsey."

"still have the energy to joke around, i see."

"it's a compliment, simon."

now it was his turn to roll his eyes, sitting beside you and watching you eat his food. you pointed out how it tasted, and what he might have to fix next. he nodded quietly, hand caressing your hair slowly as he listened.

"i didn't get any call or text from work... what did you do?"

"just a little convincing, nothing big."

he didn't mention (vaguely) threatening your boss, or how he basically begged the captain to stay home today so he could take care of you instead. you don't need to know that.

[alessiathepirate]

The Fate of the Furious

ALIVE: Deckard Shaw x fem!reader

Summary: She thought Deckard Shaw died - yet luckily he didn't. After joining the crew on the rooftop, he had some explaining to do.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

A quiet thank you for my friend who watched these movies with me during a movie night. I love you <3

Warnings: swearing, mentioned violence and death

•••

"Oh, this will be good." Roman said to Tej as he poked - or rather punched - his arm. Both of them looked at the scenario in front of them, suddenly forgetting about their bickering over Ramsey.

Perhaps if things went differently, they'd stop arguing to quietly laugh at Shaw carrying a baby - only silently, because they perefer living over dying. Shaw with a baby was something they couldn't imagine at all, yet the thing Roman pointed out wasn't the baby. No, it was Shaw himself, who clearly overestimated his self-worth if he showed up there after the stunt he pulled.

And just in time, the girl whose feelings were very obviously hurt because of the said stunt noticed Shaw's arrival - and she looked like she's seen a ghost.

"No way, man. I really don't want to see this." Tej answered unsurely, leaning back in his seat.

"You won't want to miss it either. She'll kick his ass, that's for sure." In no other scenario would Roman dare to say that - the guy might have super hearing or something.

And just like that, the show started.

"You dick!" the shouting was so loud everyone's gaze was on her, but then - after understanding the situation - they decided to look away, not wanting to become a target of her wrath. "You absolute fucking asshole!"

"Come on, sweetheart, don't curse in front of the-"

"Don't you act like you suddenly give a shit about someone!"

"Oh, he fucked up!" Roman laughed in his seat.

"He fucked up big time." Tej agreed, and it was very rare that they did.

"No way I'd be him right now..."

Her expression was a mixture of anger and hurt, and she very clearly didn't want anyone else there to intervene - no man would dare to either way and they wouldn't succeed in doing so without getting a punch to the face.

But Letty, understanding her feelings because she was the only one she had talked to about them, did her best to diffuse the situation - in front of the child at least.

"I'll take him, don't you worry." she took the infant seat from Shaw, who had the expression of betrayal on his face.

"Thanks for your help, now why don't you go and talk this out?" if Dom's voice was anything to go by, he secretly very much enjoyed seeing Shaw's face as his son, the safety blanket he could hide behind was taken from him.

"Yeah, why don't we go and talk this out, Shaw?"

Ramsey gasped behind them and Dom patted Shaw on the back, sending him the luck he'll need. Roman poked Tej on the arm again, Hobbs chuckled from not so far away.

Deckard Shaw must have fucked up big time - he himself knew that too. It's been months since she called him Shaw. He was never Shaw, only Deckard or maybe if he was lucky enough, Deck. But he was never ever Shaw.

"All right, let's talk this out, sweetheart."

She hugged herself with her arms, not giving him the opportunity to hold onto her hand. Deckard didn't try to do so though, he understood where the line was and he didn't want to overstep it.

They walked to the other side of the roof, away from their gazes and voices, and only then did her eyes start to water.

Deckard wasn't good at apologies, but even he knew that's the time for one. She's hurt and rightfully so, but he didn't mean to hurt her at all. God, he'd go to Hell and back for her and he knew she'd do the same - they knew more than a few things about the other and they liked the other even if they don't like many people.

But now she's sad and hurt - and angry, because of Deckard and he didn't know what he should do to make it better.

"Sweetheart, I-"

"No, don't you fucking sweetheart me." Sweetheart was the petname Deckard saved for her and didn't use it on anybody else. "I thought you died, do you know how that feels? I thought you fucking died!" she grabbed onto the railing to try and regain her strength. "Do you know that I cried for you? I fucking cried for you. I almost went after Dom by myself to hurt him like he hurt me and Dom is my friend!"

He put his hand on her shoulder and she let him, but she didn't look at him at all.

"And then you just call me to tell me everything is okay, I- I don't know what hurt more: that you didn't tell me or that you don't trust me enough to tell me stuff like that."

"I trust you. I trust you and I don't trust anybody else." Deckard touched both of her shoulders to turn her towards him.

He expected her to be angry or sad, he even expected a punch to the face, like when she playfully hit him after a way too bad one liner on a mission. But she didn't do any of that.

No, she was crying. And if Deckard was bad at apologies, then he was even worse at comforting crying women - especially someone he genuinely cares about.

"Why didn't you tell me not to worry?" her voice was high pitched, the kind Deckard hadn't heard before. She never cried. He hadn't seen her cry.

He made her cry.

"Because I needed her to believe it."

It was a poor excuse. He knew it - she knew it.

Yet it was still better than not saying anything or him just saying a 'fuck you'.

"So you're okay? Not even a small cut?" she asked looking at his face, trying to find some scars.

"You know me, sweetheart." he smiled and she was the only one who has ever seen him smile. "And I know you too, so if you'll punch me please tell me so I can get ready."

She chuckled. "Because?"

"Because your punches are really fucking strong."

That was the kind of compliment Deckard Shaw gave her, the kind only she recieved and no one else. And she smiled at that too, even if her eyes were still teary and the pain and fear didn't fully go away.

"I don't want to punch you."

"Really?" he had a suspicion that she really wanted to.

"Really. I just got you back and you want me to hurt you straight away?"

"I'd let you and I'd deserve it too."

He really meant that, she thought as she examined his face, trying to find some dishonesty. She couldn't find any - but to her surprise, his eyes were soft. There was some softness in there, the kind no one's ever seen, because they didn't deserve to see it.

"No, just..." she wiped away the tears and pushed his hands off her shoulders as she leaned against the railing. "I just want you to promise me that you'll tell me- the next time, because in a job like ours there will be a next time for sure."

"Yeah, I promise."

She smiled softly, her wrath slowly disappearing and tiredness took its place. She looked tired.

"You know, we never really talk about it, but just so you know, you mean a lot to me." she said quietly, as if she's confessing something she's not ready for yet. "And I mean it. I really do. No joke or anything."

"I know." he really knew, and he also knew that not many people would do that for him. "And I'd kill for you."

"I know, you already did." she chuckled. "And not even once."

"They deserved it."

"In your eyes everyone deserves to die who looks at us the wrong way." she said remembering all the times Deckard decided to pull out a gun to shoot someone who was unfriendly. "Actually, I'm surprised Hobbs is still with us."

"I promised to fight him one day."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised about that at all." she looked at the others who sat around the table talking. "You'd win."

"I know I would."

"But he'd kick your ass too. He asked me if I want him to do that after the stunt you pulled. I said I'd think about it."

"And what do you think?"

"You'd deserve it, but I'm leaning towards a no."

Deckard laughed and so did she. It was good to laugh with him again.

They stayed quiet after that. She didn't know what else to say or rather how she should talk about the things she should definitely talk about. She thought of the last few hours and days, how Letty was there for her after Deck's fake death - and what they talked about. How she regretted not telling him the things she wanted to.

"I didn't mean it like that." she spoke up after a while. "When I said you mean a lot to me." she had his full attention, she knew it and felt it in his gaze. "I meant that I think about you as more than a friend."

She continued to look at her friends again, watched as they laughed and talked. Dom had his son in his arms and Roman and Tej were arguing again. She focused on every small detail instead of looking Deck in the eyes.

"I know what you meant sweetheart. That's what I meant when I said I'd kill for you." she had to look at him when his hand was on hers. "I just can't let them see me as a softie, can I?"

He was teasing her and he was grinning, and in that moment for her he was the most lovable, playful asshole in the whole world.

"You dick!" she shouted with a laugh as she hit his arm and she felt the others' eyes on herself. "You come back from the dead and you act like this? I should let Hobbs kick your ass. Being soft with me is the least you can do to apologize."

"I knew you wanted to hit me."

She hit him on the arm again - this time the both of them were grinning like idiots and she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Of course I do. This is the worst love confession I've ever seen."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way."

"That's right, I wouldn't. I'd be way too bored without you in my life."

This time he caught her arm before it could land and his hold on her wrist was gentle. That hand could kill and punch - and he looked damn good when he did that -, but it would never ever hurt her. Not intentionally.

They both leaned in to kiss the other - and they most likely argued about who had the balls to initiate the first kiss later. It was a great kiss, a damn good one. The one what's full of passion and emotion, the one that made her stomach tighten.

"I love you, you idiot, but if you act like you're dead in front of me ever again I--" he kissed her again to shut her up.

"I love you too."

"So much for not being a softie." she giggled as she hugged him, hiding her face from everyone - because she was grinning like an idiot in love.

"You won't let this one go, will you?"

"Not at all." she answered. "By the way, just so you know, Dom wasn't the only one who called your mother."

"You did not call my mother."

"I didn't want to punch you, but she'll definitely scold you for me."

She smirked as she saw his expression. "You're one evil woman."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way." she quoted.

On the other side of the roof the table was set a long time ago and everyone was waiting for the two of them to join in so they can start to eat. Although watching the drama before eating wasn't too bad either.

"You know, as much as I dislike him, I'm happy she's happy." Ramsey said after the pair kissed.

"I was right man, I really didn't want to see that." it was Tej's turn to poke Roman, who only stared at Deckard and her in disbelief.

"I expected more drama." Rome said with clear disappointment in his voice. "And why is she in love with the guy? What does he have that I don't?"

"Why don't you go ahead and tell that to him yourself. I'm sure he'd happily answer you with a punch." Tej teased him with a grin. "Go ahead boss, ask him."

"I hate you all..."

[pedge-page]

I'm on a baby Sarah binge with Joel and Preggo Wife.

@millercontracting this ones for you!

- - - -

2 year old Sarah sitting in her car seat watching outside go by in Joel's truck when she spots something in the neighbors flower bed.

"DADDY!"

"Hmm?"

"Keekee!" She shouts excitedly, pointing out the window.

Joel looks around the street but would have no idea what a keekee would look like if it were right in frojt of his face.

"What's that baby?"

"Kee kee! I WAN keekee!"

"I... honey no 'keekee' now okay?" Hes gonna have to ask you what new definition shes concoted today. You're way better at deciphering and translating Sarah's botched verbiage than he is.

But Sarah starts tossing her legs up and down crying "KEEKEE! I WAN KEE KEE!" All the way home.

And even as he wrestles her squirming body out of the car seat and carries her by her ankles into the house, she's still crying KeeKee over and over again.

"WHAT is a KeeKee!" You shout, running over to carefully take Sarah from Joels inhuman manhandling and set her up right on her tiny feet. You wipe away her eyes as fat tears slide down her chubby red cheeks, boogers spilling down her nose.

"I dont know! She saw something and won't shut up!"

"I WAN KEEKEE!" she wails pointing to the door with slunch shoulders. She huffs each breath and cry as if she's hyperventilating.

"Sarah--"

"KEEKEE. MOMMY KEE KEE. KEE KEE. KEEKEEKEEKEEKEE--"

You take her hand and walk with her outside.

"Where are you going??" Joel shouts from the entryway.

"She could have dropped something! She's not gonna calm until we find out what--"

"Kee kee!" She shouts happily, tugging your arm to pull you towards the neighbors house.

Deanna waves over to you and a very excited Sarah. Your neighbor has one hand protectively slung under the chest of Ramsey, her sphinx cat that you and Joel had baby sat 2 summers ago.

"Hey! Ramses slipped out the front door and was prowling around the garden bed."

Sarah giggly laughs and points to Ramses naked little self.

"Good thing you caught him! Do you mind if Sarah pets him?" You ask hesitantly. She seems to be distracted by the cat, now happy and tugging on your arm incessantly.

Deanna sets down on her knee and shows Sarah how to gently pat Ramses with two fingers on the head.

The toddler crouches down in a squat, giggles excitedly and says "Kee Kee!" As Ramses purrs under her belly.

You and Joel look over at one another in realization and say in unison: "Kitty Kitty!"

-

Sarah looks up to you expectedly 10 seconds later. "Momma, kee kee?" She asks sweetly.

You feel your heart swell at such a brilliantly beautiful display of your young daughter taking passion in love and nature and animals, so gentle and kind and soft, full of heart and warmth, deserving that kind of companionship for herself--

"Absolutely not. Don't you dare," Joel snaps at YOU, knowing the face you were about to make as you turned to him to open your mouth and ask if you could get a KeeKee.

[avenging-fandoms]

Imagine being invited to the met gala and seeing pedro on the carpet and awkwardly rushing to him on heels and him super excited to see you

You stood with a microphone in hand with an interviewer you were getting annoyed with. They were asking every question about dating Pedro, your opinion on the internet and what it had to say about him, and nothing about your own projects.

You see a bright red coat walking up the stairs and you smile, handing the interviewer the microphone without breaking eye contact with his back. "I have to go, Y/N Y/L/N's boyfriend arrived" you say sarcastically and walk away from the camera.

You tap his back and he spins around, his resting face turned forehead and eye wrinkles with a bright smile decorated with his dimple. "Mi niña hermosa" he held your face and kissed you softly over and over, holding your cheek in his hand. "Look at you!"

Pedro grabbed your hand and held it up, whistling as you did a spin. You laugh and he pulls you in, holding your waist. "May I say, you look dashing in those shorts, Mr. Pascal"

Cameras flashed and recorded your whole interaction, but you loved adding fuel to the fire.

Your fingers push under his collar and he turns his back to the cameras, holding your ass. "Don't start in front of these cameras, it's the Met Gala. Wait until the after party"

You roll your eyes and hold his hand, the other hand holding your arm. "That woman in the blue, she was asking me everything about you like I don't have a movie and tv show coming out"

"Pedro! An interview?" her eyes looked at you and her smile dimmed. He held up his head and waved.

"No, maybe another time" he shrugged and you held back a laugh. "What a nasty woman, only asking about me to you. I should've done the interview and given her a piece of my mind" you laugh and pat his chest as you make it to the top of the stairs.

"No, I just left the interview to see you. She doesn't deserve us!" you pronounce and he laughs, saluting and giving you a kiss as you two enter the building. You two giggled and talked between each other and ignored all but a few people, Bella Ramsey being one of the people.

"Bella, you look incredible!" you kiss their head and they laugh, thanking you before hugging Pedro. You all chat for a bit while the two clung onto each other before Bella was pulled away.

"I love love Bella Ramsey" Pedro sighs with a smile and you laugh, nodding in agreement.

[jerzwriter]

Thank you to @snoopdogcone for this ask. For @choicesprompts Flufftober event: Drunken confessions. This is a follow-up (of sorts) to Edenbrook Mysteries: The Secret Admirer

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Characters: Tobias Carrick & Ethan Ramsey Rating: Teen Words: 751 Summary: Tobias & Ethan remain behind at the bar after a retirement party ends, and Tobias has some news to share.

A/N: Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge Laughter & warm hugs.

My Masterlist | OH Masterlist

The crowd at the dimly lit bar had thinned out, and the raucous laughter that had filled the air just hours before had been replaced with the soothing sounds of a jazz trio and ambient chatter. But as Ethan and Tobias were about to make clear, the reasons to celebrate this evening were far from over. With car service lined up, they ordered another round despite their dubious state.

“I still can’t believe Dr. Santos is... retiring,” Ethan slurred, raising his glass to his colleague. “The man’s in his prime!”

"In his prime?" Tobias chuckled, though nothing funny had been said. “The man’s old as dirt.”

“He’s seventy-three!” Ethan replied, looking offended.

“Right,” Tobias smirked, sipping his whisky. “Practically a schoolboy.”

“Speaking of schoolboys,” Ethan nudged. “I heard you have some competition! Has Connor stopped laying it on thick with Casey?”

Tobias snorted. “Oh, yeah! My 10-year-old romantic rival? I’m taking that kid down, don’t you worry.”

“Do you expect me to be impressed?” Ethan teased. “You can one-up a fourth-grader. What are you going to do? Distract him with Fortnite?”

Tobias shook his head, giggling in a way that only occurred when he had a few too many. “Nope,” he said, leaning into Ethan. “I’m doing something BIGGER. WAY bigger. And I need you to do it.”  

Ethan quirked an eyebrow. “Are you propositioning me, Carrick?”

Tobias laughed so hard he almost spilled his drink. “You fucking wish! No! I’m not propositioning you, Ethan. But... there is a question involved.”

“Well, in advance, you’re not my type,” Ethan deadpanned.

“Well, I will be on Saturday,” Tobias brimmed with excitement. “Because I need your help. I’m going ring shopping... for Casey, and I want you to come along with me.”

Ethan’s eyes went wide, and it felt like he sobered right up. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Tobias said, his voice more level. “I’m proposing to Casey, and you’re the first to know.”

Ethan broke into a smile. “You haven’t even told your mother? She’ll kill me if she finds out I knew before her!”

“Don’t worry,” Tobias chuckled with a pat on his friend’s back. “I’ll protect you... I need a best man, after all.”

Ethan turned toward Tobias, his face softened. “Your best man? Me?”

“Yeah,” Tobias grinned. “You were like a brother to me for a long time... and I think we’ve gotten back to that... in large part because of Casey, it only seems right.”

“I... I don’t know what to say,” Ethan muttered.

“Say yes! Just like I hope Casey will,” Tobias laughed.

“Of course, yes!” Ethan grinned, reaching out to shake Tobias’s hand.

“None of that handshake crap,” Tobias scoffed, pulling him into a hug. “This is bro-hug territory, buddy.”

“God, you’re insufferable,” Ethan muttered, but it didn't stop him from hugging.

“Goddamn! Tobias Carrick proposing, and hell hasn’t even frozen over!”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably due to global warming,” Tobias grinned. “But you’ve got to admit, I’ve changed.”

“Because Casey’s a miracle worker, in and out of the hospital,” Ethan smiled. “She made an honest man out of you, after all!”

“She’s the best,” Tobias said softly, his smile tender. “I love her, Ethan. More than I thought possible.”

A slow grin spread over Ethan’s face. “So, Saturday. What do you need me for? Moral support? Picking out engagement rings isn’t something I have a lot of experience with.”

“And I do,” Tobias laughed. “If I’m going to be a bumbling idiot, I want you to be by my side... being a bigger bumbling idiot.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Tobias grinned. “Regardless, it’s going to be a great day!”

“It will be. Hey, Bartender!” Ethan called out with a wicked grin. “Another round! My friend’s getting married!”

Tobias laughed, waving him off. “You know what? Maybe we’re done with that part of the night. Besides, she has to say yes first.”

“Do you think there’s any doubt of that?” Ethan asked.

Tobias shrugged, flashing a grin. “Nah. I mean... look at this. How could she resist?”

“Aaand, there’s the Carrick we all know,” Ethan teased.

When they stumbled out of the bar, it felt like they were back in med school. Their laughter barrelled down Boston’s dark streets as if the years of troubles between them had all but washed away. Having Casey in his life was the best thing that ever happened to Tobias; he’d never deny that. But Ethan being his best friend again? It was a pretty darn close second.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[spennsrs]

schlatt x reader that loves schlatt when he's put on a couple pounds :(( reader holding him from behind and just kissing his back when he doesn't have a shirt on in the kitchen or smth. "you're so beautiful, yknow that?" i have brainrot ‼️‼️ schlatt not believing reader so reader just has to keep praising schlatt every chance they get so they keep leaving little post it notes around the mirror about his body :(((((

(\ (\ („• ֊ •„) ━O━O━━━━━━━━━ ・:。YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ︳jschlatt x reader drabble ︳fluff ︳self indulgent bc i jst wanna tell schlatt how handsome he is :(( also MY BFFIE REQUESTING <3 /p + reader can cook rly well and they Feed our boy well

the house was quiet, the bedroom dark with drawn curtains. it was late at night... or maybe early in the morning?

schlatt didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. he couldn't sleep. he didn't even know why he was up still.

it was probably silly. maybe it was the cause of his recent insomnia. there were great things about having a significant other who could outcook even the likes of gordan ramsey. well, at least schlatt thought so. said great things include being well fed and eating incredible food.

but there were also bad things. well, bad thing. he did let his walls down a little when he and [y/n] started dating, yet he wasn't one to voice his insecurities often. his main insecurity was the reason he was staring at the full-length mirror on the back of the door into the bedroom.

his weight.

schlatt stares at himself in the reflective object shirtless, careful to not break the silence the night brought to the shared bedroom. reflections were a weird thing, mirrors in general were weird. maybe vampires were on the right track with the no reflection thing. his hand rests on his stomach, pushing, poking gently... he wasn't necessarily angry or unjustly sad, just as much as he wasn't.. happy with how he looked. with a soft sigh, his hand falls to his side again and his gaze never breaks from the mirror. his eyes over examine every part of his body visible to his gaze, and oddly enough... that's when he spots it, on the corner of the mirror. was that... a sticky note? multiple? his hand reaches up to gently yank the papers down, reading the handwriting.

'you are so absolutely amazing' 'you're beautiful the way you are, inside and out' 'do you realize how incredibly handsome you are?' 'if you could see what i see, maybe you would understand why it is so easy to love you for who you are'

schlatt felt like he was going to cry. no had ever said such... gentle words to him, nor had words ever touched him like this did. he kept reading the words, then rereading... it was almost too good to be true. he knew he was way lucky in the significant other department, scoring someone as fantastic as [y/n] was a mystery he would never understand, and chose not to.

a warm pair of hands draw him from his train of thoughts, jumping a bit as his eyes are drawn to the mirror before him. schlatt could see the familiar arms of his lover wrapped around him, their left wrist adorned with the silver bracelet he had gotten them for their two year anniversary.

"did i wake you, sleepyhead?"

his voice is soft, and it's tinged ever so slightly with emotion as his hand comes up, gently caressing their arm. there's some movement against his back, and he deciphers its his lover shaking their head. that's good, at least he didn't disturb them.

"you're beautiful, jay." schlatt feels his heart constrict at those words. of course they knew. they had a way of reading schlatt like a book, often picking up on his turmoil on certain topics before he even knew himself. a small smile tugs at his lips as he pats their arm. no words came from him, none needed to. "no matter what you look like, what you sound like, or what you do, you will always be beautiful to me, and i'll always love you."

and maybe... just maybe... in that moment, schlatt could let himself believe it was true, because the love of his life said so. who was he to deny their words?

[williamswifey]

hiii i love all of your fics! could i request a bella ramsey x reader where the reader is part of a well known film like stranger things or a marvel movie and everytime bella and them are in an interview they gush about the reader’s character in the other film, which fans notice and think is adorable😭

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐘

pairing ; bella ramsey x fem!reader

summary ; bella thinks you’re a fantastic actor and rants about it 🤷‍♀️

content warnings ; none, intense fluff

a/n ; sorry for the filler posts lately, i’ve been lacking in the creativity department for actual plots, so plz send in asks to get my creative juices flowing

masterlist

stranger things season four recently came out, and being one of the main characters, you had been extremely busy with interviews and premieres.

it was all so exciting, you loved seeing fans reactions to the show. you loved being tagged in fan edits, and you loved replying to dm’s and tweets.

just when the buzz from the recent dropping of the season began to die down, you and bella had been invited for an interview by vogue, to give a tour of your shared apartment while answering questions.

you had gotten the email from your manager while you had been finishing up a load of laundry, and you we’re static. you and bella’s relationship had gone public about a year ago, even though the two of you had been dating for longer.

there wasn’t much content out from the two of you, aside from social media posts. now that you thought about it, you and bella had never actually been in an official interview together.

sure, the two of you had been interviewed during premieres together, and the paparazzi took photos of you two together all the time—you had never actually sat down with them for an interview.

you excitedly walked downstairs, seeing bella curled up on the couch with a book in their hand. their head peeled upwards when you came into their line of vision, a small smile tugging at their lips.

“hi, darling,” they said in a soft voice, patting the spot next to them.

you grinned and laid besides bella, your head resting on their lap. bella began to play with your hair, successfully beginning to lull you into a gentle sleep.

just before you allowed yourself to slip into unconsciousness, your brain reminded you of why you went to find bella in the first place.

you opened your eyes, and rolled over to face bella. you gently pried the book out of their hands, placing their bookmark you bought for them on the page they left off at.

you yawned before you began to talk, causing bella to chuckle at you, poking your cheek.

“i thought you were a sleepy girl,” they said, tilting their head to the side.

“i am,” you said, rubbing at your eyes, before sitting up straight, “but i had something to ask you first.”

“oh?” bella said, their interest suddenly peaking as they leaned forward slightly.

“nothing bad,” you assured, taking their hand as you fiddled with their rings, “but i got an email from my manager, asking about a vogue interview with us. we’d have to answer a few questions about each other while showing them our apartment. i think it’s an awesome idea, but if you don’t want to it’s totally fine and—”

bella noticed you beginning to ramble as they placed their free hand under your chin, your eyes meeting theirs.

“i’d love to.”

you smiled, and made a mental reminder to email your manager back. in the meantime, you resumed your previous spot on bella’s lap, feeling their gentle hands against your hair as you fell asleep.

***

two weeks and days worth of cleaning later, you and bella were sitting on your couch, waiting for the camera crew and interviewer to arrive to your apartment.

your apartment was in the heart of los angeles, so traffic was always pretty intense, especially in the late afternoon. you were attempting to mentally prepare yourself to answer questions while bella scrolled aimlessly on their phone.

eventually, you grew bored of staring into space and looked over bella’s shoulder to see whatever they were doing on their phone. you giggled when you saw bella staring at a photo of you from your most recent press event.

“…bella my love, what are you doing?”

bella grew startled as their phone nearly flew out of their hands, face pink. however, bella wasn’t embarrassed about the fact they were looking at photos of you—in fact, they were proud.

“just looking at photos of you, reminding myself how lucky i am.” bella replied, and your face now turned the shade of pink bella’s was moments ago.

bella was such a sap sometimes.

“you’re cute, you know that?” you said, pressing a few kisses to bella’s face.

you two began to play fight, and a few seconds later, bella had pinned you to the couch, and was kissing your neck playfully while you giggled.

your fun was cut short by the doorbell. you groaned, sliding out from underneath bella as you made your way to the door, quickly fixing your hair and lipgloss.

the interviewer arrived with a camera crew, and you and bella began the tour.

***

after a brief tour of your apartment, the camera crew and interviewer got settled on your couch as they began to prepare you both for the interview.

they promised nothing too invasive or intense—but you weren’t worried. your manager promised your assistant had reviewed and approved every question on the list.

bella seemed to be a bit more jittery, and the obnoxious interviewer clearly took advantage of that—as they decided they’d ask bella a few questions first.

“so, bella,” the interviewer began, turning her attention towards bella, “have you gotten the chance to see stranger things season four yet?”

bella shifted in their seat. you honestly had no idea if they watched it or not, and their reply was a complete surprise.

“i have!” bella replied enthusiastically, beginning to fiddle with their rings the way they did when excited, “y/n was absolutely fabulous, as always. and her character? my god. i’ve never rooted for a protagonist more. y/n’s acting is incredible. sometimes i’d be watching the show in our bedroom while y/n was in the living room reading…and i’d just be like—holy fuck. i live with this person.”

bella’s response to you and your character had you blushing manically. your cheeks were bright pink as you fought back a smile, intertwining your hand with bella’s.

their eyes met yours.

“do you really mean that, bels?” you asked softly, heart fluttering as bella nodded.

“more than anything. but i have to admit, your character is way cooler than you,” bella joked, ruining the moment as you gently shoved their shoulder and playfully stuck their tongue out at them.

bella giggled, the both of you completely forgetting that the interviewer was still there, and the camera was still recording.

the two of you were quick to pull it together again, professional as can be.

“but, yeah,” bella said after a moment, “i saw stranger things and it’s probably my favorite tv show at the moment—but i might also be biased.”

this made a chuckle slip past your lips.

you rested your head on bella’s shoulder as the interviewer glanced at the pair of you.

“now y/n,” the interviewer began, “now i guess it’s your turn. i assume you’ve seen the last of us, so what did you think of it?”

your grinned was so large you felt your cheeks widen. as you opened your mouth to speak, you knew your words would rival bella’s previous in an instant.

[liaromancewriter]

Child’s Play – Part 2 / 2

Premise: A beloved childhood toy gets a new life.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); ft. Sophie and Eloise Ramsey (F!OCs) Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 1,420

A/N: Submission to @choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 prompt 21: Memories. Part 1 is here.

The shirt collar was scratchy, and he couldn’t wait to go home so he could change into a tee shirt. But home was hours away. It might as well be on the Planet Krypton.

Ethan Ramsey snickered at the analogy as he adjusted the seat belt strap so that it wasn’t so close to his neck. Fidgeting in his seat (he also had to pee real bad), he wondered how much longer he’d be stuck in the car.

They were heading to Sunday dinner at his grandparents' house, but they had moved across town, and now it took forever to drive there.

“Are we there yet?” he called out plaintively.

“Five more minutes,” his dad replied from the front.

“That’s what you said five minutes ago!” Ethan whined.

“And it’ll still be five more minutes unless you stop asking,” his mom said, shooting him that look.

Grumbling under his breath about the unfairness of being a child without any control over his life, Ethan watched the scenery blur past the car window. With a distracted hand, he sped an imaginary red toy truck along the narrow ledge beneath the glass.

The toes of his black shoes pinched, and he wondered (not for the first time) whether God would really care if, just once, he wore sneakers to church. His parents seemed to think so, but Ethan wasn’t convinced.

With everyone else going on in the world, you’d think the Almighty had more important things to worry about than an almost eight-year-old boy not wearing his Sunday Best.

“We’re here,” his dad said, turning the truck into the long drive.

Ethan’s eyes lit up at the sight of Pop-Pop waiting for them on the front porch, his tall frame leaning against the white railing. Beside him sat Lucy, his black lab, her tail wagging enthusiastically.

As soon as his dad parked the truck, Ethan bolted out the door, throwing his arms around his grandfather’s long legs. He gave Lucy a quick pat on the head before she could demand more attention with her barking.

His grandfather’s booming laughter filled the air. “Happy Birthday, Ethan!”

“But it’s not until tomorrow,” Ethan remarked, tilting his head back.

“And I’ll wish you then, too,” Pop-Pop laughed, nodding pleasantly as his parents joined them on the porch. “Now, come on inside. Your grandmother’s prepared a feast, and I bet you’re hungry as a bear.”

Later, Ethan sat cross-legged on the braided rug in the cozy living room, licking his lips at the lingering taste of the delicious roasted chicken and apple pie they’d had for Sunday dinner.

He was about to ask if he could go outside to play with Lucy when Pop-Pop disappeared into the hallway only to return moments later, holding a small, rectangular box wrapped in brown wrapping paper.

“What’s that?” Ethan asked, scooting closer as his grandfather crouched down and placed the box in his lap.

“Something I’ve been saving for just the right time,” Pop-Pop said, his voice warm and gentle. “And what better time than your eighth birthday?”

Ethan tore into the wrapping with careful excitement, his breath catching at the sight before him. Inside was a small collection of toy cars, their vibrant colors and shiny metal surfaces catching the light from the lamp.

“Whoa.” Ethan ran his fingers over the smooth edges of the miniature vehicles. “These are awesome!”

“They were mine when I was younger,” his grandfather said, settling onto the floor beside him. “I repainted them for you, so they’re like new again.”

“Thanks, Pop-Pop,” Ethan said softly, hugging his grandfather before lifting out a red fire truck with a tiny extendable ladder.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

Ethan lined the cars in a neat row, already imagining the adventures they’d have. He didn’t know it then, but those little cars would follow him everywhere—racing along windowsills, zooming across tabletops and sometimes even tucked under his pillow at night.

Eventually, he outgrew the toy cars, trading them in for a shiny Schwinn bike he raced around the neighborhood with his friends. By the time he graduated from high school, he couldn’t even remember what had happened to them. His eyes were firmly focused on the future.

But the nostalgia of those early years—before his mother tore apart their family—often lingered at the back of his mind. Until one day, his life came full circle.

Seven-year-old Eloise Ramsey would have toppled headfirst into the cardboard box if her father hadn’t caught the waistband of her shorts and pulled her back just in time.

“Careful,” Ethan said, steadying her with one hand while shifting the box under his arm for a better grip.

Unfazed by her near fall, El grinned up at him. She and her twin sister were spending the weekend in Providence, helping their parents and Grandpa Alan sort through stuff to donate to the annual church charity drive.

Of course, their parents could handle the boring stuff, El thought. She and Sophie were hunting for treasure. To the twins, the basement wasn’t just a storage room. It was a mystical cave, and they were fearless adventurers on a daring mission.

“El, come look what I found!” Sophie called out from the other side of the basement, her voice echoing off the cement walls.

Ethan shook his head in exasperation as Eloise darted off, narrowly avoiding a stumble over an old outdoor mat that had clearly seen better days.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs drew his attention, and he looked up to see his wife, Cassie Valentine, leaning over the railing. Her grin widened as she watched the twins’ antics.

“Are you girls ready for a break?” she asked, coming down the stairs. “I made lemonade and grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Look, Mommy, we found real treasure,” the twins cried excitedly. “Can we keep it? Please?”

Ethan met Cassie’s amused look and rolled his eyes. The idea of the twins finding anything even closely resembling treasure in the dusty basement was laughable.

Still, as Cassie and his father often reminded him, the rules of fatherhood dictated that he try and indulge the girls’ fits of fancies.

He froze when he saw Eloise holding a small, dusty box with both hands, her eyes wide with excitement.

“It’s full of cars!” she exclaimed to Cassie, who examined the box alongside the girls, their foreheads nearly touching.

A wave of recognition washed over him as he crossed the room to take a closer look. Sure enough, the box the girls had uncovered was filled with his old toy cars, their once-bright colors dulled by a fine layer of dust but still perfectly intact.

He knelt beside his daughters, taking the box and lifting out the familiar red fire truck, its tiny ladder still movable after all these years.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as memories flooded back—racing the cars with Pop-Pop on the front porch the day he got them, pretending to be a race car driver speeding down the Indy 500 track, or a firefighter saving the world with his trusty red truck.

“These were mine,” he said, his voice soft, almost reverent. “Pop-Pop—my grandfather,” Ethan clarified at their confused look, “gave them to me when I was about your age. They belonged to him when he was a child.”

“That’s so cool,” Sophie said, leaning into him as she steadied herself with one arm draped over his shoulder, her wide eyes fixed on the cars.

“Did you play with them a lot?” Eloise asked, peering into the box with fascination.

“All the time,” Ethan replied, his voice rough as he cleared his throat. “But that feels like a lifetime ago.”

The last words came out almost as a whisper, heavy with the weight of memories, but Cassie caught them nonetheless.

“Maybe it’s time these cars had adventures again,” Cassie murmured, giving the girls a meaningful look. “Just like my doll, Wilhelmina found a new home earlier this year.”

Ethan nodded absently, his fingers lightly tracing the roof of a blue sports car, savoring one final connection to his past before passing it on.

“They’re yours now,” he said, setting the box between the twins. “Just promise me you’ll take good care of them.”

“We will!” Eloise and Sophie said in unison, already diving into the box to examine their newfound treasures.

As the girls argued over who would get the shiny blue sports car, Cassie slipped an arm around his waist and leaned into his side.

“Now they have something from both our childhoods. And to think, you were convinced your dad had thrown everything out.”

Ethan caught the laughter in her voice and groaned when she added, “Told you so!”

“You just love saying that, don’t you?” he griped with exasperation.

“You better believe it,” Cassie giggled, her lips brushing against his. “There’s nothing more satisfying than proving you wrong.”

As Eloise held up the red fire truck, pretending to extinguish an imaginary blaze, Ethan couldn’t help but smile. Cassie was right. Some toys, like cherished memories, were meant to be passed on.

--------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @justyourusualash

@lady-calypso @kyra75 @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect

@queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @snoopdogcone @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

@thosehallowedhalls

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

[dinoshimaaa]

Cabo

You and Ajax make dinner at nine PM together. (fluff, modern au)

masterpost - sher's bday

tag: @souglias

(this is a repost of an older work that didn't make it in tags lol)

-

You register the warmth around you when you open your eyes, finding it to be both familiar and expected. The man squished between you and the backrest of the couch is still fast asleep, soft snoring in your ears slowly falling into the same rhythm as your heartbeat. Romeo, the orange tabby (and the undoubted king of the household) stays curled up between you and Ajax, but his eyes blink periodically, having woken up just before you did.

The phone reveals the time to be six in the evening when you extend your arm to check it. Turning back towards Ajax, you lightly pat his chest, “Wake up. We need to prepare dinner soon.”

“Mmh,” his chest rumbles, and his hold around your waist tightens. “Not now.”

“I’m hungry.”

Ajax’s eyes open. He stares at you for a second. Then he smiles and closes his eyes again. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you sigh and it comes out as laughter.

“Go back to sleep,” he shifts his head down, nose pressing into your neck. “We have all the time in the world.”

“Romeo might be hungry, though.” As if to prove you wrong, the orange tabby jumps down from the couch and nonchalantly pads towards the bedroom, possibly to hop on your bed and mess up the sheets before bedtime. The two of you watch him as he does so, and once he is out of sight, you face each other again. “Or maybe not.”

“See? No one to worry about,” he hums and gently pulls your head beneath his cheek. “Stay.”

You obey. Sleep catches you in its grasp once again, and the next time you wake up it is past nine. Your stomach is definitely growling by then, and Romeo is also pawing at the couch, upset that he has yet to receive his feast (canned tuna) for the night.

Ajax reluctantly joins you in the kitchen minutes after you pull out of his slackened grip. Wordlessly, he grabs the chopping board, but stills when he sees the instant ramen cups in your hands.

“It’s late,” you answer to his disapproving glance, “I don’t know about you, Gordon Ramsey, but I’d rather settle for a quick meal tonight than a full course meal I have to wait an hour for.”

“It’s bad for your health,” he walks over and presses his lips to your hair, “I literally cook quality meals for you for free. Do you have any idea how much Kaeya pays me to do that for him?”

You shrug. “You can do that tomorrow. I’m hungry now.”

Ajax grumbles and places the cutting board back to where it was. Then, he takes the ramen cups from your hands and pours just-boiled water into them in your stead. When he’s done, he sits next to you on the kitchen island and the both of you stare at the ramen cups.

“Romeo hasn’t eaten,” you break the comfortable silence. “Get the tuna for him.”

“Let’s get married.” Ajax replies. You turn to him with a deadpan look.

“We’re already as domestic as we can be,” he smiles and tilts his head. “We sleep in the same bed and house, I cook and clean for you, and you repay me with kisses and cuddles. Getting married won’t make a difference.”

“Romeo still hasn’t eaten.”

“I’m being serious,” his voice drops to a whisper now, and his eyes drop to your left hand. You are very aware of the heavy gaze on the empty fourth finger. “There’s no one else I’d rather wake up from a nap at nine PM and cook bland instant ramen and neglect our hungry cat because we were too busy bickering in the kitchen over dinner choices… with.”

The fatigue has gotten up to him, you think. You blame his abrupt decision on the sleep-lidded eyes and tousled ginger hair and his unsound mind still filled with fantasies from his slumber. You want to scold him about how important of a decision marriage is and why he shouldn’t carelessly throw the word around like he’s suggesting a movie night. You want to smack him head from the back for joking around and getting your hopes high for a split second.

And yet Ajax is never one to make hasty decisions with zero thought. Shyly, his eyes flit up to meet yours and the sincerity in them makes your heart skip a beat.

“I’ll buy you a ring.” he nervously adds, which is uncharacteristic of him. “Soon. I’ll buy your dream dress, book your dream location, and give you your dream wedding. All you have to do is say yes.”

He doesn’t need to prove himself with material worths, and you want to let him know that. You love him just as much as he loves you and possibly way more. Shifting your hand to link with his and squeeze it, you watch the way his eyes soften.

Ajax caresses your left ring finger. You give him the answer he is waiting for.

“Feed Romeo the tuna,” you answer, with all honesty, “And I’ll say yes.”

Your orange tabby has never had a better dinner before today.

[tkachuktkaching]

Some of the Matthew Quotes from his recent Interview

Fresh off eliminating the Tampa Bay Lightning in the first round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Panthers forward Matthew Tkachuk joined The Pat McAfee Show on ESPN to talk all things puck on Wednesday.

Still in amazement of Tkachuk’s toughness to play with a broken sternum during last year’s Stanley Cup Final, McAfee and his energetic band of co-hosts started the show talking about playing through pain.

“In the Stanley Cup Playoffs all bets are off and you do whatever you can to play,”

“He was fired up to see us beat Tampa the other day,” (talking of his dad)

“Growing up having him as a voice, as a role model, my brother and I were not forced to play hockey, but we had everything around us to help us grow into it and love the game. We had him around every day to ask about anything, help coach us, teach us, but I’d say the biggest thing that allowed my brother and I to make it to this level was each other. Having that unbelievably close relationship, being each other’s best friends, biggest supporters, and competitors as well.”

“One thing that I’m super grateful that my parents did, and my mom deserves so much credit because she was mainly the one getting up at 5 a.m. to take us to the 6 a.m. practices while my dad was on the road, was that we were never allowed to play hockey 24/7, 365 days like some of these kids do now,” said Tkachuk. “My parents were all about playing every sport you can. I think that’s what allowed me to not get burnt out and my love for the game kept growing and growing more.”

“Don’t touch Bob and there won’t be any problems,” When asked about Tampa Bay and the two goalie interference calls against the Lightning in Game 5.

“We are really excited to get a few days of rest and get rejuvenated, but it’s the playoffs and you just want to be out there playing,”

“Some of the best parts of playoffs are just hanging out with the boys in the lounges on the road and watching other games throughout the league.”

With three first-round matchups still ongoing, Tkachuk spoke on how hard it is to close things out.

“The fourth game in a playoff series is always the hardest to win because no matter what you are in the series, the other team is so desperate playing for their lives you have to find a way to match that or exceed that,” said Tkachuk.

Something that can help with closing out a series is playing in front of a home crowd.

“It’s a tough question because last year in playoffs are team was lights out on the road and it didn’t matter where we played,”

“When playing in Florida, we have such great fans and the building is so loud, I think home ice is important for us, having the extra potential game seven at home, you always want to have that at home. I think our fans are so loud and we’ve made this rink here in Florida a tough place to play, so I think home ice is important for our team, it’s an extra layer you can add to the series. I think we have great fans, so it’s important for us.”

Among the recent sellout crowds at Amerant Bank Arena, Miami Dolphins Jalen Ramsey and Jaylen Waddle have come out to support and hype up the crowd with the banging of the pre-game drum.

Knowing Waddle was there, Tkachuk told the show he was planning on a big goal celebration in salute of the fellow local superstar.

“If I scored I was going to do the ‘Waddle’ because he was there,” said Tkachuk. “He’s my favorite football player.”

While it didn’t happen that game, McAfee called for Tkachuk to bring in the dance celebration next time he lights the lamp.

[leviathansshadycorner]

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 8

Summary: The games begin

A/n:Long time no see! I guess this is considered a slow burn since I haven't really given much Cato content yet lol, but it's planned! If you want to listen to something while reading I reccomend the civil wars, and definetely their song with Taylor Swift lol

Pt.7Pt.6Pt.5 Pt.4 Pt.3 Pt.2 Pt.1

____________________________________

Chapter 8: The Arena Pt. 1

You couldn’t eat. As if that was new. 

The table in front of you was decorated in an arrangement of multicolored foods, all in the shape of a big 10. The dining room was silent, even Pradain was drowned out by the silence and his whiskey. Dolly and Ramsey looked tense, somber even. Buckley of course was attempting to eat what he could, but even he struggled to keep it down. 

“Thank you.” It was a shock for you to speak first. Dolly looked confused for a second before her expression warmed. 

“Now don’t go thanking us for anything.” She reached for a table cloth and drink, as if to hide the fact she needed to wipe her forming tears. 

In approximately one hour you’d be headed to the slaughterhouse. Waiting to die of starvation, disease, or lord forbid it- murder. You’d only hope Buckely would make it out alive or meet a peaceful end. 

Ramsey inhaled, setting his fork on the table. “You two really are something’ special. ‘S been an honor to work with the two of ya.” He managed to croak out, keeping his stoic demeanor even though it warbled. 

Pradain let out a fit of laughter before it turned to chortled sobbing, Sashay was quick to comfort him. 

How did the Capitol expect teams to rejoice before sending their tributes to their death? It was sick. 

“I consulted a psychic medium.” Sashay piped up, using her fork to scoop up a block of cheese. “He told me that we’ve got a shot of winning. Something about a leaf with speckled dots of white.” 

“A Gragale?” Pradain spoke, sniffling his nose in a handkerchief. “Those aren’t edible.” 

The meal passed on with some somber conversation looking back at what your time at the Capitol had been like. A few tips and advice were thrown, a prayer or five may have been said, eventually you drowned it all out, refusing to look at the boy with cow like eyes. 

It was clear you weren’t the only one having internal conflict as he wasn’t his usual bubbly self. Painful, disheartening, heart wrenching, it was. 

30 minutes. 

20 minutes. 

10 minutes. 

When the Peacekeepers arrived they informed the two of you about choosing someone to send you off. Pradain and Sashay stepped off to the side after saying their final farewells to the both of you, leaving Ramsey and Dolly on the sidelines, waiting for who would speak first. 

“Dolly?” His voice was hoarse despite drinking liquids the whole time at the table. Buckley looked around awkwardly. For once it felt like the two of you were strangers again. You didn’t like it. 

Dolly instantly stepped toward you, giving you a hug that could have squeezed your organs out. “Go get em’ cowgirl.” She kissed your cheeks and let go, her lashes soaked with tears as she went over to the tall boy to comfort him. 

You looked at Ramsey and he immediately knew. Stepping close he placed a hand on your shoulder squeezing it as he pat you on the back with his other hand. “Alright, let’s do this.”

The Peacekeepers did a thorough search, both on you and Buckley, and your mentors. Something about stabbing attempts back in the 50th games. Your pulse was fast, eyes glued open as you tried to not cry. You couldn’t. Not now. Not now. Not now. 

The trip was silent, the peacekeepers informing the group about what would take place once on the transportation craft to the arena. Occasionally your sad eyes would meet Buckley’s clashing momentarily before disappearing. 

Dolly and Ramsey were set off to the side while the two of you were ushered into the craft, sat toward the end. 

Everyone else had already been seated for the most part, 11 and 12 behind you as they filled in. Cato had a Capitol worker stabbing his arm with something, it looked painful, but he didn’t flinch. 

He was what scared you the most. Something about him wasn’t right. You needed to steer clear of him, or get rid of him. 

“Arm.” They’d gotten to you quick. Reluctantly sticking your arm out you waited for the stinging of the needle. It pinched, and you felt a weird chill down your spine. What the hell had they put into you? Surely it couldn’t be some weird drug or enhancement right? 

Your question was answered when the girl from 12 asked. A tracker. Of course they’d track you. At least now you knew how they kept track of the deaths and tributes. 

If you made it out, your prayers would be replaced with asking for the downfall of Coriolanus Snow. 

Looking to the left you unintentionally greeted the jolly blonde, his void expression perked into a small grin, barely noticeable but there. Waving his head subtly he turned to look in front of him, leaving you with a squint on your face. He was also a threat. Albeit not as much as Cato. Either way, you had to profile everyone now. There could be a diamond in the rough, someone here who could pounce on you if not accounted for. 

You’ve seen how that lumberjack girl mangled those tributes. 

“We’re landing I think.” You heard a girl comfort her fellow tribute. 

As if your stomach couldn’t knot up more. Sure enough a sound of air decompressing echoed as the hinge of the craft lowered, revealing the troop of peacekeepers ready to escort everyone to the arena. The peacekeepers herded you all into lines. Cato’s humongous form hovered over everyone’s and it really set in. The only one challenging his dominance was the guy from 11, but even then he seemed like he had morals unlike the blonde in front of the craft. 

“Goodluck.” Buckley reeled you out of your thoughts, his face forward and hands at his side. 

Forcing a smile that looked like you were about to cry, you reciprocate the sentiment. “Goodluck.” 

This was it, the last moments of peace you’d get for a while. Your peacekeeper didn’t seem to know their own strength since their hand bruised your arm. Another one was already waiting in the room, a large tube at the center and Ramsey standing at the side of it. 

“Three minutes.” The peacekeeper let go, hurdling you to Ramsey who caught you in his arms. 

“Hey it’s ok. It’s ok.” The facade had broken. You heaved like an asthmatic in a desert, your face twisted like a sun dried tomato as you hiccuped the tears out of your eyes. 

He squeezed you, whispering reassurance to your soul. “Come on (Y/n), come on girl, gotta be tough. You’re gonna make it out. You’re gonna beat this bitch of a game.”  His shirt got flooded by your tears, the agony left on him as a remnant of who you were. 

“I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I want to go home! Please! Please!” You clawed at his shirt feeling yourself revert to a toddler for a moment. All you wanted was to be home with Amaranto and your father, huddled together at the dinner table, debriefing about each other’s days before heading to the yard to check on the stray cats that lived nearby. Hell, you’d rather be in the butchery helping out with the dirty pans and tins. 

Ramsey looked just as distraught, face faltering. He caught you and rubbed your back, “(y/n), listen to me. You need to remember what we went over, protect yourself and if god wills it Buckley. Don’t make new enemies, save your ass, woman up, and win. I’ll see you in the Victor’s Village ok? You’ve got this sweetie, You’re from goddamned district 10.” He held your face in his rough hands, eyes intense but caring, like a father grounding his daughter back to reality. 

All you did was nod. Nod and wipe the tears off your face. He was right. Right? 

Right. 

“Okay. Okay.” You placed your hands over his and he pulled you into a hug before the Peacekeepers yanked you to the tube. 

“Focus! Lasso! Lasso!” He reminded you before his voice got muffled. The peacekeepers ushered him out, leaving you scared and alone in the tube. 

Your breath fogged up the tube, you hadn’t realized how fast you were breathing. The dusty brown windbreaker didn’t help, it only pooled your sweat, making it uncomfortable. The boots were new, but at what cost? They’d only be a bother in the long run until you could break them in. If you even lived long enough to do so. You cursed the issued clothes you’d receive, whoever designed it decided rustic colors would do you good. You only hoped you could blend into the arena. 

Oh shit! The arena. You’d been preoccupied with dying that you didn’t even consider what the terrain was like. Judging by what they gave you it couldn't be water based. At least you hoped not. You’d be dead in an instant. 

Desert? 

Forest?

Snowy Tundra? 

Coliseum? 

The possibilities were endless. 

As the tube reeled you upwards toward the arena, your stomach fought to keep its contents inside. The sky looked blue, a gloomy blue. Bad sign. You were used to the sunny orange landscapes of 10. Your hands shook as they reached out to the glass tube, catching your footing as you began to look around. 

Green everywhere, trees taller than the mountains, birds flying over and other scared tributes. It reminded you of the time your school had a dance. It was middle school and everyone had just discovered puberty. Scared boys staring at petrified girls, no one dancing, peacekeepers at the edge bored and uninterested. But that was a dance. This was punishment for something you didn’t do. 

Heaving you turned around to face the center. The tubes slowly lowered as you searched the circle for Buckley. He was across from you, already having found you. He looked just as frantic. Aside from you was a girl from 10 and 5. The careers were honed in on the middle of the arena, bloodthirst in their faces. They hardly looked scared. 

A cannon began to sound, causing some of the tributes to jump. From your distance you could see some of the supplies. Mostly weapons, some food, gear, and more weapons. Ramsey had specifically warned the two of you multiple times to not head toward the middle. He said it was a death wish. 

Eventually a voice started counting down, and you practically threw up. Your hands came to cover your mouth. Surely your eyes were popping out of your face. Breathing in you tried to focus on the voice, scanning the area you made a plan. Run. You could always come back, milk your accent, get sponsors. You’d be fine as long as you made it out. 

It didn’t process in your mind yet that people had started running. It wasn’t until you saw Cato slit someone’s throat that you realized the games had started. Frozen in place you screamed, trying to move away. Tributes ran, some stayed to swipe weapons- a chance to survive. Somehow in the span of three seconds the careers had secured their base. It all happened so fast, your mind hurt trying to register everything. Even the screams of agony were flushed out. 

“(Y/n)!” Snapping out of your trance you stepped back, one foot over the other, turning to run away. Looking back you saw it was Buckley who called your name, or moreso scolded you for standing there like a dumbass. He had a pack in his hands, inches away from the blood bath. You managed to catch him leave, run off to the opposite side of the arena. 

A spear flung clumsily to you, missing you by a good 10 inches. Expecting to see Marvel, you were surprised it was some scrawny kid. Pleading for your feet to carry you further, you sprinted into the brush, the grass beneath you crushing, picking up mud as you ran away. You wouldn’t stop, not until you were sure you were safe, alone for miles. 

Five minutes in and already half of the kids you came in with were dead, Buckley was gone, and you had nothing. Needless to say the odds were looking grim.

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