#some swedish snuck in

[chiropteracupola]

recently I've read a very meaty and murdery novel, and, since I haven't stopped thinking about it, now I've made a playlist about it.

[listen here]

[moonstruckme]

hiiiiiiiii mae <3 i have an idea for thawing out series. what about if reader has a 'moment' w one of them and the other boy gets slightly cranky bc of it but then is also confused bc he doesn't know if he wants r or the other boy.........and then EPIPHANY 😈

Thanks for your request! The mood of it got altered some but I hope you like it :)

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, some hurt w/o comfort but dw we'll fix it down the line

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.6k words

“Pads!” Remus shouts across the ice. “Focus!”

Sirius’ cheeks pinken slightly as he tears his stare away from the Russian soloist practicing her quads. You laugh and say something to him that makes him pinch your waist meanly, as if you’ve been acting any better. 

You and Sirius are completely starstruck. Remus wants to be irritated at your distractibility, but it’s sort of adorable. You nearly fall on your bum watching the Austrian team run drills, Sirius is too busy eye-flirting with a Swedish skater to remember he’s supposed to be going into a turn, and you both stop your routine entirely when the Canadian duo steps out onto the ice. 

You and Sirius draw plenty of stares yourselves, though naturally only Sirius appears to notice. He shoots a wink at a skater admiring him and a glare at another looking too closely at you, his hand possessively on your lower back anytime you’re not running your routine. 

Altogether it means you have to spend a couple of extra hours learning to work through this specific brand of stage fright and running your drills again after you all get your heads turned multiple times, but Remus lets it slide. He remembers being just as dazzled during his first Olympics, seventeen years old and feeling like he’d somehow snuck into the hall of fame, an imposter among legends. 

Part of him hopes that the embarrassment of having to do a half-ass death spiral in front of so many professionals will make Sirius finally go all the way, but no such luck. He keeps you firmly above where you ought to be, expression impassive even as Remus can see you pleading with him with your eyes. Still, the rest of the routine goes well, and Remus tries not to let it get under his skin. He hopes you’re right and Sirius really will pull through in the final hour; your faith in your partner is absolute, and Remus finds it easy to put his faith in you. 

He lets you loose to spend the afternoon as you’d like, but it comes as no surprise when he sees you both on the ice again. Remus knows you’ve likely got plenty of nerves to work off. It’s one thing to compete in your home country, another entirely to represent your home country while competing amongst the best figure skaters in the world. He calls you off the ice before one of you can overexert yourselves and pull something. Sirius swears up and down that his ankle hasn’t bothered him since the day after he hurt it, and Remus hasn’t seen anything to make him suspect differently, but he knows better than to take risks with a healing injury. You spend the rest of the afternoon playing cards and gambling for candies in Sirius’ room. 

Eventually you disperse to go to bed. Remus’ hip has been bothering him since the flight the previous day, so he goes on a walk to stretch it out. It’s odd, he thinks, how easy things have come to feel between the three of you. When he first arrived, Remus had every intention of setting up strict professional boundaries, of knowing you only as your coach and seeing you only during practice times. And then you started practicing together, and it seemed like his boundaries wouldn’t even be necessary. Sirius hated him, and besides that the two of you existed in a bubble no one could penetrate, intimate and trusting only each other. Now, after learning about what your former coach did to you, Remus understands why that was necessary. You were protecting each other, safeguarding your partnership and your careers. It would have made sense for you to keep Remus at more than an arm’s length, taking his coaching with grains of salt and keeping him well away from your private lives. 

But then there have been days like today. Still bickering with Sirius, still watching the two of you interact with a familiarity only years of history can grant, but feeling warm and welcome despite it all. It feels easy, to tease Sirius and let him snipe back. To let you lean your shoulder into his and not move away. It feels good. 

Remus’ hip is feeling fairly good too by the time he gets back, sore from the exercise but not so stiff. As he makes his way to his room, passing Sirius’ and then yours on the way, he sees light sneaking through the crack underneath your door. 

He frowns. It’s late, and you’re meant to practice again early tomorrow morning, your last day of practice before you compete. You should be well rested. As he approaches your door, he hears sound coming from inside. Low, crackling voices, and a song that tugs at the fringes of his memory. Then a sound he knows too well, the shushing of skates on ice.

Remus knocks. The door is thin enough that he hears your little gasp and a quiet snap, and when you say “come in,” it sounds like a question. 

He suppresses a smile, opening your door cautiously in case you didn’t really mean it. 

You’re sitting on your bed, one hand atop your shut laptop. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he says, leaning against the doorway. “It’s late.” 

“I know.” You look almost shy. Between that and the pajamas you have on, plaid little shorts and a bulky sweatshirt, Remus has the urge to pinch your chin between his fingers. “Sorry, I was just watching some, um…”

“Figure skating videos.” Your lips part, and he says, “I could hear them from outside.” 

“Oh.” You laugh. It’s a nice sound, one Remus can happily say he’s come to know well, but this one is woven through with nerves. “That’s embarrassing.” 

“Why is it embarrassing?” he asks honestly. “It’s normal to want to study your competition. And they’re fun, I still watch them all of the time.” 

“It’s not…” You give him a tentative look, then scoot over on your bed. “Do you want to see?” 

Remus can’t imagine you’re watching anything he hasn’t seen a million times, but he is curious which are your favorites. He’s careful to sit on top of your covers, a few inches between your leg and his. The bed doesn’t allow for anything more. 

“Fuck, did they really have to go back to making them out of cardboard?” 

That gets another nervous laugh out of you as you open your laptop screen, playing the video. And Remus knows then where he’s heard the music before. It’s his music. You’re watching his old routine, a niche one from a small competition back in Wales. Remus was fourteen when this was filmed. 

He glances at you, and you’re watching the video with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, the colors of the screen dancing across your eyes. 

“I’ve always admired how tight your form was,” you say. “You were so young, but it was obvious you were putting the work in.” 

“I practiced a lot,” Remus agrees. “Too much, really.” 

The nostalgia he feels for figure skating is bittersweet when he watches videos like this. He remembers spending all his time in the rink, every hour he wasn’t in school or at home, nothing spared for friends or hobbies. He did love it, but in loving it he forgot to build a life outside of it. Life was constant motion, training and competitions and awards whirling around him like the rink during a spin; by the time he had his accident anyone that might have been his friend had their own friends, and Remus realized he may have been lonely for years. 

“I’m really glad you agreed to coach us.” You’re still watching the video, young Remus doing a camel spin. “You’ve made us a lot better, both of us. I know Sirius is going to end up fixing the spiral, and I’m going to try my best, and…I really hope we can make you proud.” 

“You will,” Remus says, instead of you already do. It feels wrong to take any credit for how incredible you are, either one of you, but that is what he feels when he sees you out on the ice. Proud. He looks at you carefully. “You’ve seemed wound pretty tightly lately.” 

Your eyes drop, no longer looking at young Remus but not at the older one either. 

“It’s alright to be nervous,” he says gently, “so long as you know that you deserve to be here. You’re going to do great.” 

You rub your lips together. “Were you nervous during your Olympics? Is it okay for you to talk about?” 

“Yeah,” Remus says, a bit surprised, “it’s fine. I was nervous. I was…” he chuckles “I was freaking out, honestly. But when I got out there, it was really just like any rink. The music and the routine were the same, so I just let myself get lost in it. I almost forgot where I was until it was over, and people were waving flags at me and all that from the stands.” He feels his lips curve with the memory. Bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “It’s not so bad. Anyway, I think it’s got to be better to go through it with someone else. I was on my own, but you’ll have Sirius with you.” 

You give him a little sideways smile. “And you, right?” 

A fond warmth blooms in Remus’ chest. “And me.” 

“Has it been difficult for you to coach us?” you ask him tentatively. “I mean, to come back?” 

Remus takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says after a minute. “At first, it really was. I’m not proud of it, and I don’t think I really knew it at the time, but I was jealous of both of you. Anytime you did something differently than I would have, I got so frustrated that you were throwing away these opportunities I would kill to have again. It was easy to look at either one of you and wish I was in your place.” 

You’re nodding, not a trace of hurt or offense in your expression. You look at him like you understand. 

“But that stopped a long time ago,” he says. “After I worked with you for longer, it became clear you’re both very different skaters than I was.” You huff a laugh, and Remus nudges your shoulder admonishingly. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I think early on I wasn’t a very good coach to you because I couldn’t see your individual strengths. But now I think I can, and it’s really a privilege to watch you skate together. It’s lovely. And I’ve loved getting to know you and Sirius, too. So, yeah, it was difficult at first, but I’m really glad I came on. And I’m glad you were patient enough to let me stay.” 

That got a bit more earnest than he intended. Remus feels heat rise to his face, but you’re still nodding, thoughtful, like you’re trying to wrap your head around it. He sees you rub your lips together again. 

“I really want to do well,” you say softly, “but I’m not the skater Sirius is. I don’t have his natural talent, and I don’t flourish under pressure the way he does. I—that’s usually when I mess up.” Remus’ chest aches at the vulnerability in your voice, his hand moving unconsciously to cover yours on the bed. Some of the tension goes out of you at the touch. “I’ve tried my whole life to keep up with him, but I’m never quite there, and you guys, you’ve both been these incredible, talented skaters…” Your eyes meet his, timid and ashamed. “I’m afraid I’m going to let you both down.” 

“Are you kidding?” You drop your gaze, and a surprised little laugh trips off Remus’ tongue as he ducks his head to follow, holding your hand more securely. “I’m sorry, that was rash, but really. How can you think that? You’re one of the most talented skaters I’ve ever seen.” 

You’re still avoiding his gaze. He takes your chin in his hand, gentle, an encouragement more than anything, but you let him turn you towards him. 

“I don’t care how much of it comes from natural aptitude,” he says firmly. “You’re an incredible skater. Even when I didn’t know you at all, it was obvious that you care about this more than Sirius or I likely ever have. That’s important. You can see it in how hard you train, and in how you move on the ice.” Remus shakes his head, expelling a breath. “It’s mesmerizing. You’re beautiful to watch.” 

You’re not shying away from him now, but Remus doesn’t let go of you. Your expression is wide open, diffident but curious. He goes on.

“The way you skate, it’s not just about the motions or the art of it, it’s joyous. Anyone can see how happy you are out there. That’s what makes you so good. You really love it.” 

“You did, too,” you murmur. 

His voice softens in kind. “I did. But not the way you do.” 

Your eyes lower, but this time he allows you it. Remus is suddenly acutely aware of your leg where it's pressed up against his, of his own heartbeat. He’s still holding your hand. 

You wet your lips. “Do you really mean all that?” 

“Why would I give you a whole speech I didn’t believe?” 

You crack a smile. “Some coaches call it a pep talk.” 

“You’re beautiful to watch,” he says again, voice dropping to a murmur as he realizes you’re staring at his lips. He breathes in, and the distance between you lessens. “You’re beautiful.” 

Remus knows he’s judged you rightly when your hand comes around his waist, pressing into the softness of his jumper to glean an impression of the skin underneath. You kiss like you skate, with a sweet eagerness, ready to explore and wanting to learn. Your lips part, inspiring a similar parting in Remus, and you let out a breath with a soft humming sound. 

Remus' nerves are alight underneath your hand on his side. He angles his torso to get you closer, free hand coasting up your thigh. Your fingers bunch in his jumper, kisses picking up heat as he lets his hand settle at the small of your back, an echo of how Sirius touched you this morning when—

Sirius. 

Remus draws away from you so suddenly he hears you gasp. He still has your face in his hand, can feel the flustered warmth of it before he removes that too, putting distance between you. 

“Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. Guilt burns in the back of his throat. “Sorry, it’s not you. I just, I—”

Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. 

“I didn’t think that through.” He can feel his heartbeat in his mouth. Sirius is in love with you. Remus is only just starting to feel like a part of your team, but this could send you all back in time. Kissing one of his skaters, who the other is in love with? His stomach hurts. “I’m your coach, and you—we have a big competition coming up. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

He edges off your bed, looking at you while he does. Your lips are still parted, eyes wide. 

“It was a really shit idea,” he says, “and I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.” 

You rub your lips together. Remus feels it like you’re still moving them against his own. “It’s fine,” you say on a breath. “We can forget it.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. 

“It’s okay.” You’re shaking your head, and he’s backing away, both of you like deer caught in headlights. “You’re right, it was silly. We’re professionals, we can get past it.” 

Remus feels himself nodding, feels the handle of your door in his hand. 

“Practice in the morning?” you ask weakly. 

He pushes out a breath as he opens the door. “Yeah. Six thirty.”

[skamenglishsubs]

Hey! Young Royals question: I'm British, and I find some of the 'Normal People' things things that Wille can get away with without immediately attracting a media circus completely wild. I can NOT imagine a teenage Prince Harry would have been able to get on a public bus or go to a municipal football field in a rough area without a flock of press photographers descending on him. Even after Wille becomes Crown Prince, his freedom of movement seems enormous compared to what Prince William would have had.

Could you explain why Wille is able to live without microscopic scrutiny please? Is the Swedish press just less insane than the British press? Are Swedish people less sensationalist than British people? Or is it just to make the narrative easier to progress? Thank you.

Yes, they're less insane. There are no paparazzi stalking them 24/7. The current crown princess and her siblings were allowed more freedom, they went to normal schools and the press backed off.

Hillerska is presumably in a remote location, and press have presumably been told to fuck off from there, to give all the students their privacy.

And Wilhelm snuck out, remember? No-one knows or expected him to be on that bus, so of course there aren't tons of people waiting around for it to happen.

[granhairdo]

5, 18, 27, 33, 74 for the ask game?

5. tell us some funny drunk stories.

oh god do i have many! my weird quirk is thinking its a lovely idea to message people when im drunk. im sure several of my mutuals and irl friends have gotten random drunk messages from me.

my favorite story must go to when i was about 16 or 17 in a foster home. for some reason, my foster mom thought it was a nice idea to have an unlocked liquor cabinet just there, even after knowing i formally had some minor alcohol issues. so one night i snuck some whiskey and one shot turned to two and so on. i ended up ordering a lifesize cardboard cutout of pat sajak from wheel of fortune. already funny, but apparently i never got around to changing the shipping address from the apartment my family moved out of like 2 years ago and is rented by someone else now. well i forget about the order and some poor guy got lifesized pat sajak just show up to his house. scrolling on facebook a month or so later and this guy i didnt know posted something like "what in the world just showed up to my house" with a picture of a lifesized pat sajak cutout. congrats sir.

18. can you drive?

i sure can! i actually didn't get my license until i was 20 tho.

27. what was the last book/movie that really impressed you?

this depends. are we talking rewatches/rereads or are those disqualified.

if rewatches count i obviously have to say out 1 (1971). i rewatched it with a friend and i just... god... every time. idk that film just scratches an itch deep in my soul.

and if we're only counting things ive seen recently, ive got to give it to person (1966). this film went far above my expectations. whole time i was just immersed in it. its not something i would have expected to enjoy so much but the tone and vibe of the film was just perfect.

33. something you're good at?

oh god idk. i guess poetry is kind of my thing. its been an outlet for me since i was really young and i kind of expanded on that into adulthood. a lot of people are surprised i enjoy such a hobby as i am actually dyslexic and neurodivergent in other forms as well. however its a very strong passion of mine. ive been certified in poetry therapy for i believe 6 years now. i don't do it as much as i used to but ive taught one on one and group classes for disabled. neurodivergent, and otherwise struggling kids to learn how to express themselves through poetry. as you can see, im very proud of it.

74. favorite candy?

i love fruity gummy stuff. swedish fish are my BELOVED>

[petrichor-idyllic]

So, y'all seemed to like my last TMR OC/idea prompt list thing, so I thought I'd do another one.

But actually focus on OC ideas this time.

Okay, so here are some cool OC ideas because there's actually a lot you can do with this universe, but everyone does the same shit.

And I am here to provide:

A transfer character. Can be used for either the books or the movies, but an OC that starts off in one Maze and then gets moved to another with no warning could be an interesting concept. WICKED has made giant simulation Mazes, monsters, flesh eating floating metal balls and teleportation windows- I don't think it's that far-fetched that they could scoop a kid from one Maze and throw them in another.

So, Thomas and Teresa obviously built the Maze, so prodigy characters are a staple of the series. I think an OC that has a lot of knowledge about anatomy and biology, who could work as a Med-jack or a Slicer, who actually designed and made the Grievers, and obviously doesn't remember it, could be a interesting concept.

More male OCs pls. I love seeing these ladies, don't get me wrong because it makes things more interesting. But I think fanfiction can just be for fun and I love seeing some casual normal guy OCs kicking it around the Glade. (Saying this as someone who has male and female characters for this universe.)

I'd also love to see a trans character.

An OC that snuck into the Maze could also be fun. I feel like I need to explain this one more. Picture this: your character is like Teresa and Thomas and has enough of watching their friends be tortured and killed, so they set themself up to go into the Maze early. So they rock up early, like in the middle of two Greenie days and it freaks everyone out. (This could also be an easy way to make it make more sense for fem! OCs to end up in the Glade.)

OC with a cyborg limp of some kind. WICKED could make it happen, don't tell me they wouldn't.

Also, lemme give some names 'cause there was a phase a while back where OCs had the most random names and people completely ignored the fact that all the characters in the Mazes are named after famous people.

(I have used some of these names for my own characters, but I will not be revealing the name of my main OC because she is too precious to me and I am protective over her name. I may one day post about her if people are interested.)

MASCULINE

Otto - Otto Hahn: A German nuclear chemist who is often referred to as the father of nuclear chemistry and nuclear fission.

Leo - Leonardo da Vinci: This one is obvious but just in case you don't know; a famous polymath of the High Renaissance who had several talents, including painting, engineering, science and sculpting.

Dalton - John Dalton: An English chemist, physicist and meteorologist. He introduced the atomic theory into chemistry and researched into colour blindness (also known as Daltonism in many languages).

Al/Alan - Alan Turing: Cryptanalyst famous for his work during the Second World War.

Micky- Michael Faraday: A philosopher who contributed to the study of electromagnetism and electrochemistry.

GENDER-NEUTRAL

Clerk - James Clerk Maxwell: Scottish mathematician responsible for the theory of electromagnetic radiation.

Coper - Nicolaus Copernicus: A Renaissance polymath who formulated the model of the universe with the Sun in the middle.

Andy - Anders Celsius: A Swedish astronomer who invented the Celsius temperature scale.

Mo - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Famous composer.

Hol - Andy Warhol: Famous artist.

FEMININE

Mea/Marie - Marie Salomea Curie: A pioneer of radioactivity.

Barb - Barbara McClintock: A famous cytogeneticist.

Emmy - Emmeline Pankhurst: A suffragette and women's rights activist.

Octavia - Octavia Hill: An artist and radical who pioneered affordable housing and can be considered the founder of the modern social network.

Lia - Amelia Earhart: The first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean.

Yeah, okay, there ya go, hope some of y'all find this useful, or maybe even interesting lmao.

[vikingost]

The Battle of Bramble and Harebells.

The start of my Bramble:the mountain king inspired series with the hetalia nordics!

Chapter one:Thorny beginnings

Björn awoke from his slumber with a jolt,sitting up in his bed.His heart was pounding in his chest from the nightmare he had moments before as a result of the bedtime story his mother had read him and his sister in the evening.Rubbing his eyes,he cautiously shifted to the side and placed his feet on the cold wooden floors of his family’s cabin.As he slowly stood up,he began stepping over to his sisters bed on the other side of their shared,cramped room,as Björn seeked his sister Mette’s comfort.After a few steps,the unease in his cyan eyes turned to confusion.Mette was nowhere to be seen,with the carefully embroided bedsheets laying messily on her bed.After lighting a candle (despite his mothers warnings not to play with fire) and holding it for some light,Björn began looking around the room.Despite not being necessary to find his sister,as there was practically no hiding spots in the room,the act still brought Björn some comfort.He played a small bit with his tin soliders and he looked at the wall where his mother measured his and his sisters heights (Alma teased him far to much about her being taller than him,despite Björn being 3 years younger at the psysical age of 8,and his sister being 11.Though,it felt as if he had lived longer.A lot longer).As he walked around the room,he found the old storybook their mother had read to them earlier,and he grabbed and opened it,revealing the detailed pictures and the small,swedish text.

``There once was a girl who snuck out of her bedroom window at night,even though her mother had told her not to.

She went into the forest and at first it welcomed her with warmth and a promise of adventure.

But soon the forest seemed to grow colder and darker.

The girl was afraid and she wanted to go home,but bramble crawled around her arms and legs,and she could not get away.

À̵͍̹̰͑̈́n̶̲̬̖͋ḑ̶̹̃ ̸̧̚ṯ̵̬͇̄h̵̡̥̤͂̄e̴̥͎̪̒͛͒ ̶̼͌̀g̷̣͍̲͌̀i̶̗̹͗̀͠r̷͖̗̹͌ḽ̶̓ ̴̢̘̟̎w̷̯̰̏̕a̵̻̳̓s̶̬͕̙̀ ̶̦̎̒̍ņ̸̫̺̅͗è̵̗v̶̦͖̳̆ë̴̹̭͊r̷̫̣̃͌ ̸̫̓ṡ̴̟̜͚̓͗e̸̩̘̱͒͂͠ę̶̫͌͆͌n̴̛͇͈̊͒ ̷̱̹̊a̵̘̟̹̅̑̾g̸̡̢̕a̷͚͎̔ị̵̡̮͘n̶̦͍̺̚ ``

”And Thats What happens when you dont listen to your mother,especially you Mette.” His mothers words rang in the boy’s ears,and while the warning aimed at his sister had been little more than a joke cause of her recklessness,it had brought up a frightening answer to where his sister had gone.His suspicions were further proved when he felt a cold breeze come from the window.The window in question stood wide open,with Mette’s bedsheets tied together into a makeshift rope and used so that someone would be able to climb out.Had his sister not listened to their mother? Evidently not. Walking towards the window,he put his head out and looked around.The darkness scared him.But not being with his sister scared him more.He quickly exchanged his soft pajamas for a simple shirt and trousers (pants) and his long,navy-blue coat together with some simple shoes to better suit the cold,swedish spring night.

Placing the candle on the window sill,Björn’s cold hands gripped the makeshift rope and slid down,hissing a bit from the painful sensation of slight ropeburn and the sudden chill of the air outside.As Björn began to walk away from their home,out to search for his dear sister Mette,the candle finally got extinguished by a gust of air as he ventured further into the forest,unknowing of the horrors to come.

That was the first chapter,this one was just meant to introduce Björn and Mette and start Björns journey! Do remember that english is not my first language,so spelling errors will probably exist.Tysm for reading and Ill have the second chapter out soon! :) -VikingOst

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

On Mars, sunsets are blue.

Nothing holds you back more than your own insecurities.

The letters ‘ough’ can be pronounced ten different ways.

The national bird of Peru is the Andean Cock Of The Rock.

93% of students do their research online rather than in a library.

The County of Los Angeles has a bigger population than 40 US States.

Studies have found that being a ‘bad boy’ is no longer perceived as ‘cool.’

Spiny lava lizards are less choosy about who they have sex with when it’s hot.

If you don't dream, you most likely have some sort of personality disorder.

If caught in a burning building, get low. The breathable air will be near the floor.

Women speak an average of about 7,000 words a day. Men average just over 2,000.

Lava lamps were invented by an accountant whose hobby was making underwater nudist films.

Shy people usually end up being some of the coolest people you know … once you start talking to them!

We tend to prefer the original version of a song because we heard it first, not necessarily because it's better.

In the Polish town of Suoszowa, all 6000 residents live on the same street that stretches some 9km (5.5 miles).

The Bloody Mary has been scientifically proven to be the best alcoholic drink to enjoy on an aeroplane.

If 99% of the human population thought you were ugly, about 80,000,000 people would still find you attractive.

Lypophrenia: A vague feeling of sadness seemingly without cause. This often occurs when a person misses someone.

The U.S. Army uses 1.5 billion rounds of ammunition a year. ‘Call Of Duty’ players use 1.5 billion rounds every 17 hours.

The Talmud suggests testing blockages in a penis by heating the afflicted’s anus with some warm barley bread. (Eh?)

Male bed bugs don't bother with vaginas when mating. They simply stab the female in the abdomen with their penis and ejaculate in her body.

A video game developer snuck a proposal into a game, but his girlfriend refused to play it for years, delaying their eventual marriage.

Town planners in Porters Lake, Nova Scotia seem to have run out of ideas. There are streets named This Street, That Street and The Other Street.

About one third of Australian polling stations have barbecues outside them. It is so common to buy a sausage when you go to vote that they are called Democracy Sausages.

Corn kernels are coated with cellulose that's tough enough to withstand the rigors of the human digestive system, which is why they come out almost the same way they went in!

Child marriage is currently legal in 43 U.S. states. The only states with a minimum age of 18 - with no exceptions - are Delaware, Massachusetts, Minnesota, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania and Rhode Island

In 2004, a £140,000 diamond was placed in the front of a Jaguar F1 car for the Monaco Grand Prix as a promotional stunt for Ocean’s Twelve. The driver crashed on the first lap and the diamond has never been recovered.

The ‘fountain of tits’ in Treviso, Italy, is a 16th-century marble fountain of a topless woman squeezing her breasts. The statue sprinkles water from each nipple. During celebrations, the fountain spouts red and white wine, which is free to drink.

On August 8th, 2004, over the Kinzie Street Bridge in Chicago, Illinois, a tour bus belonging to The Dave Matthews Band dumped an estimated 800 pounds of human waste from the bus’s septic tank on to a passenger sightseeing boat on the Chicago River below.

Target found themselves in an awkward situation and had to issue an apology due to a labelling error that offended some 'plus-sized' customers. While selling a dress in various sizes, the small size was listed as 'Gray,' while the larger size was labelled as 'Manatee Gray'.

In 1771, Swedish king Adolf Frederick ate large servings of lobster, caviar, sausages and sauerkraut, washed down with copious amounts of champagne. For dessert, he had 14 (FOURTEEN) servings of semla – a Swedish sweet roll topped with whipped cream – with hot milk. Not long after dinner, he began complaining of stomach aches, which steadily worsened until he died a few hours later.

Thomas Jefferson's draft of the Declaration of Independence contained a passage that condemned slavery as one of the many evils brought upon the colonies by the British crown. The passage was removed from the final version for fear of alienating the southern colonies, which were heavily dependent on enslaved labourers. Ironically, although Thomas Jefferson called slavery an “abominable crime”, he was a lifelong slaveholder.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[sountandvision]

Rocks & Waves Song Circle - I

This is a great hidden gem of a release, and one that snuck into a fair handful of ‘best albums of the year’ lists. Information around this release is incredibly minimal with regards to its inception and bizarrely in this age of constant information that we live in, nothing more has been unearthed since its release in 2016. As mentioned in the bio on its Bandcamp release page, it was bought back from Mexico by Swedish artist Isak Sundström after recording it with a local choir and an unnamed Haitian soloist. That’s it.The compositions are as raw as they come, with what little instrumentation there is melding really quite beautifully with the undulating choral arrangements. It’s a bit like if Arcade Fire formed in some provincial ashram rather than the academic cloisters of Montreal. That description does it absolutely no justice at all. It really is a ‘listen and you’ll get it’ kind of record. I think I picked this up on a whim from Bandcamp because the cover intrigued me. I know you shouldn’t judge a book (or record) by its cover but sometimes it’s enough to give it a try in my opinion. And this is one of the times it was absolutely worth it.

From album Rocks & Waves Song Circle - Self Titled (Songs I-V)

[theultrablog]

Pulp Storytime #27: Beginner’s luck!

Is the pen mightier than a mind-rotting sword? I had some spare time this afternoon and someone on a Discord I was on talked about making a character but never getting to play an RPG. I whipped up a mini adventure. (I knew I wanted to run something on a train and something on a boat, she picked Oksana Larrson, and we went from there.) Oksana was hunting down stolen Swedish artifacts in North Egypt. After sneaking aboard a smuggler ship, she accidentally saw two crewmembers goofing around with ancient weapons. One told the other to block low, and then split his pal's head open with a Nordic sword! In a surprising move, Oksana told the captain that she had snuck aboard, and that one of the crew had murdered another. He was so startled by her honesty that he gave her a bunk… and promised to sell the weapon immediately. Unfortunately, Oksana had left her suitcase back in Alexandria, and by the time she called her editor and bought a train ticket, the weapon exchange had happened. Le Reynard, arrogant French dandy, intended to use his new artifact to win a duel at a Cairo soirée. Dutiful reporter Larrson spent much of the train ride corroborating details. It would be preferable to stop manslaughter, but she also had a duty to the truth! In Cairo, she leveraged a connection with the security team to get into the event. Unfortunately, the ambassador she wanted to warn was utterly convinced of his abilities. She told him that he was going to be killed, and he promised to ban the perpetrator from the premises. Of course, she got his name wrong… and the duel was about to begin. With seconds to spare, she grabbed the weapon, fled the party, and hustled to the airport. (She wisely decided to check it as luggage instead of a carry-on.) Cultural artifact: returned to Sweden. Manslaughter: averted. Story: filed. Not bad for a first game!

[raelly-writing]

Prompt 9: Lush - FFXIVWrite 2020

... you ever question the word associations your brain will make? Uuuh, mentions of mature themes towards the end, did not stop and think too hard about whether the fruit would be available or not. Nor would I brave trying to hammer out smut at 2AM in the morning.

---

Raising a fist, Viana knocked on the door. “Thancred?”

Immediately, she heard his muffled voice call out for her to come on in. She readjusted her grip on her book and the bowl she was carrying and nudged his door open so she could lean inside. Thancred was seated by his desk, as she had expected, his quill raised as if he was in the middle of writing something.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Setting down his quill, Thancred leaned back in his chair with a reassuring smile. “Fear not, you didn’t.” Even from the door she could see the neat piles of journals and parchments that occupied most of the surface of his desk. “Something the matter?” he asked.

Giving him a small smile, she shook her head. “No, I was just wondering if I could read in here? I know you’re working but…” She glanced off to the side, shrugging sheepishly. It felt strange to adjust to dealing with their still new relationship while also readjusting to the routines and duties they had now to resume. It had seemed more… isolated, on the First, their time just split between the Empty and then whatever other tasks that may have cropped out, but there’d been little to stop them from just spending time with each other.

“Of course you may,” he replied warmly.

Relaxing, she slunk inside his room and nudged the door shut. “How’s it going?”

He heaved a slow sigh and looked down on the papers on his desk. “Unsurprisingly, Riol has done a good job managing everything on his own while we were gone. Turns out I’ve forgotten a fair bit of the finer details over the years though. Still have a fair few items to work my way through.”

“Perhaps a break is in order then,” she said softly and set down the bowl on an empty spot on his desk. “From F’lhammin.”

He instantly let out a low, throaty laugh. “Peaches?”

Shrugging, Viana turned and walked over to his bed. “Said they were from some orchard in Thanalan that you were familiar with,” she explained as she sat down to toe off her sandals.

“By the Twelve, that woman has a far too good memory.”

Chuckling, she glanced up at him. “I take it you enjoy those particular ones?”

Thancred was turning over one of the red and yellow fruits in his hands, a small smile on his face. “Mhm, I bought some when I was new in Ul’dah,” he mused. “After so many years in Sharlayan, I was fairly keen to explore food that actually tasted pleasantly.” He looked up at her, something in his expression turning a bit wry. “Nevermind being able to afford actually buying food for myself, for once.”

A sombre sense of understanding settled in her chest. Viana gave him a gentle look - it was a sentiment she was all too familiar with. Sometimes, when she was stressed especially, she could catch herself squirrelling away dry foods as if she was still a scrawny kid that risked going hungry. “Recurring favourite treat, I assume?”

He nodded. “Indeed, the orchard these are from boasts they’re the sweetest of its kind. Ever tried one?”

She shook her head. “Not from Thanalan at least - hey!” Dropping her book onto the bed, she quickly caught the fruit that Thancred suddenly tossed across the room to her.

A playful grin spread on his lips when she frowned at him. “Try it, I think you’ll like it.”

Viana looked down at the fruit while running her fingers over the soft, fuzzy surface. “Alright, alright, if you’re going to be tossing them at me like that,” she grumbled. The ones she’d had in Othard had not had such a hairy surface. Oh well, if he was sure they were that good. Carefully, she bit into the fruit. Luscious, sweet juices instantly filled her mouth, the fruitmeat silky smooth on her tongue.

“Oh!” She put her hand to her lips, blinking in surprise as she chewed. It certainly lived up to his praise. The fruit was so overflowing with its sweet juices that droplets of it were soon running down her hand - certainly a welcome treat were one to be standing in the middle of Ul’dah’s sunbaked streets, she could imagine. Without thinking of it, she moved the fruit to her other hand and licked away the errant droplets from her hand. “You weren’t exaggerating,” she finally said and looked up at Thancred. “It’s really good.”

Barely had the words left her mouth before he got up from his chair and crossed the short distance to her. A rush of heat spread across the back of her neck at the suddenly hungry look in his eyes.

As if he noticed her reaction, a charming smile curled the corner of his mouth just before he leaned down and caught her lips in a slow, firm kiss that swiftly scattered her thoughts like a flock of cloudkin. Inhaling sharply through her nose, Viana tilted her head back as her eyes fluttered shut, his hand warm where it settled at her jaw. There were such subtle differences to how he felt and tasted here on the Source - more tangible, as if there’d always been some sort of give to his form on the First. Clearer, like there was no longer a faint undercurrent of the alkaline taste of aether lingering on his lips anymore.

Before she knew it, he had gently pushed her back against the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he knelt over her. The kisses melted into one another, the texture of his thumb rough against her cheek as he caressed it. Aware of the sticky juices covering her free hand, Viana merely brushed her fingertips against his neck, yearning to bury them in his hair. Despite how he kept the kisses slow and controlled, she could sense the restrained hunger simmering beneath his touch.

Slowly, Thancred broke off the kiss with a pleased, humming sound. When she blinked her eyes open, he was staring down at her with a rakish smile, satisfaction sparkling in his hooded eyes. “Just as sweet as I remember,” he rumbled.

Snorting, Viana raised an eyebrow at him. “Think you tasted the wrong thing, ser,” she retorted, laughter lacing her words.

His gaze shifted to the peach when she held it up for him, then back to her. Gently, he grasped her wrist in his. Viana felt her mouth go dry as she watched him gingerly take a bite out of the fruit. It was nearly obscene how his tongue darted out to lick the juices from his lips as he contemplated her for a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity. A searing heat rushed up over her cheeks, her heart thumping violently against her ribcage. The satisfied look in his eyes told her that he knew precisely what he was doing right then.

“Quite delicious,” he hummed. With a low, thoughtful sound he carefully took the fruit from her hand, then casually deposited it onto his nightstand. “But I think I’m in the mood for another treat entirely,” he finally continued as his voice dropped to a low timbre that instantly made her stomach twist pleasantly. Arousal quickly wound through her body, liquid heat pooling between her thighs.

Viana took a slow, steadying breath as she draped her arms over his shoulders. “What about your work?” she asked lightly.

Laughing quietly, Thancred placed another slow kiss to her mouth. “I think I have earned a little break,” he murmured against her lips.

“I suppose so,” she whispered with a smile, and tugged him down with her onto the bed.

Not that he needed much coaxing. His mouth was hot and hungry against hers, the sweet taste of the peach lingering on his tongue. Soon enough, their clothes lay scattered over the floor, her legs resting over his broad shoulders, fingers twisting in his silver tresses as he eagerly had his fill of her, only their breathless voices and sounds of pleasure filling the stillness of the room.

[mirkwoodest]

I want to make a hierarchy of "how deep in are you?" Tolkien content/lore. Anyone want to contribute some "oh jirt, we're really in it now" stuff for me to rank by intensity of obsession?

Here's what I have off the top of my head (not in order):

They're taking the hobbits to Isengard

Eagles discourse

The cartoon hobbit

The cartoon LOTR

the LOTR musical

Middle Earth is flat, but only to Elves

The various titles of the Red Book of Westmarch

Everything about Westron and the translation-ception

Intimate understanding of hobbit family trees

Intimate understanding of elf family tries

How many Glorfindels discourse

Do balrogs have wings discourse

Viggo Mortensen broke his toe on camera and you can see it in the final cut

Viggo Mortensen bought his horse

Sean Bean hiked everywhere

Most of the riders of rohan were played by women

All but one fellowship actor got a matching tattoo

The New Zealand airplane commercial

Tolkien hated it when people called the battle of helms deep "the battle of helms deep" because it should technically be called "the defense of hornburg"

Saruman's techinicolor dreamcoat

The Hobitit

Sauron is sexy, actually

C.S. Lewis and Tolkien friendship / inklings

Beren is Tolkien's self-insert and Luthien is his wife.

C.S. Lewis is treebeard

Middle Earth is post-apocolyptic from an Elf perspective

Tolkien is the magician's apprentice

Tolkien hated that santa was in Narnia

The Diana Wynne Jones encounter

Knowing how tall various characters are, especially Aragorn

wizards and balrogs are the same species

Why does Frodo suddenly forget sindarin when Faramir tells him about the a place literally called the spider steps?

Knowing exactly what pieces of early medieval northern european folklore Tolkien snuck into the books, especially The Wanderer poem.

Tooks kicking ass in the scourging of the shire

Knowing that Aragorn and Arwen are distantly related

Knowing what constitutes a legal marriage for elves

Do Elves get periods lore

Dwarf gender discourse

Is that a weed? discourse

Noldor propaganda discourse

Are Frodo and Bilbo unreliable narrators discourse

Sindarin accents/dialects discourse

Lobelia/Smaug parallels

Tolkien didn't like writing battle scenes

Tolkien hated it when people saw WWI/industrialization allegories in LOTR

conversely, C.S. Lewis REALLY needed everyone to know that Aslan was jesus

Tolkien didn't have enough female characters but he drank his respect women juice

conversely, C.S. Lewis had plenty of female characters but was frightened and confused by them

tolkien stole a bus one time

The Various Names and Nicknames of Jirt

Born of Hope

PHFs, PEFs, PDFs, and PMFs.

Related to the above, the Cassandra Clare connection

Leonard Nimoy's bilbo baggins song

Knowing Tolkien's first civilian job

2000s era Faramir discourse

Knowing who has the 3 rings

The terrifying implications of Tom Bombadil

Racism and Anti-semitism in tolkiens works

Conversely, the fuck-off letter Tolkien sent the nazis

Is the shire more technologically advanced that other parts of middle earth?

Historical migration paths of the hobbits

Hobbit class system analysis

Pippin is destined to be the highest ranking hobbit of his generation

Tolkien hated disney

The Heavy Metal/Black Metal connection

The names and marriages of Merry, Pippin, and Sam's children

The intense Swedish Translator rivalry

Okay that's it from the top of my noggin. I'm sorely lacking silm lore here but any other additions are appreciated!

[oleksiak-pettersson]

Five Times Elias Pettersson was Teased for Being Whipped and One Time He Wasn't (5+1)

From my old blog (oh-holy-alien)

01.

Like any normal Canucks hangout, you were gathered with the other WAGs, gossiping and joking about the usual things.

You and Holly Horvat had been having a conversation regarding her now teething infant son when Elias snuck up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You relaxed into his arms, having missed his touch for the not even half an hour you had been apart.

“You two are too cute,” Holly laughs, readjusting the infant on her hip.

The compliment makes your stomach fill with butterflies, you know you’re blushing as you turn to hide your head in the junction of Elias’ neck. Elias starts to pull funny faces at the baby as you turn your body into his to be cradled to his chest. His arms are wrapped around your waist, not tight enough to hurt but tight enough that you know he’s got you.

The little baby giggles at the funny face Elias makes at him. You turn your head to watch the Swede as he pulls more faces at the infant. The boy’s entire face lights up as you and Holly laugh.

Elias turns his attention to you as Meagan Pearson and her little guy, Tucker, call Holly’s attention away. He presses a kiss to your forehead, allowing you to spin around in his arms and have your back pressed against his front. Elias begins to sway you both back and forth slightly.

His head leans forward to rest on your shoulder.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, hoping only you can hear him.

It makes you smile; it amazes you how sweet and clingy this man can be as opposed to the personality he dons in front of the Vancouver media. Granted, it won’t stop you from teasing him.

“You were without me for not even fifteen minutes.” You joke, turn to look at him.

His jaw drops at you as if you’ve said the most offensive thing ever. You can hear the WAGs around you laugh at the look on his face.

“It was thirty minutes and it was the longest thirty minutes of my life.” The dramatics are dripping from his voice as he tries to pull you closer, even though it’s barely possible.

“And yet all you could talk about was ‘oh I miss Y/N’,” Brock shouts from across JT Miller’s backyard where he stands with some of the other guys.

Elias goes quiet pretty quickly. You turn to look at his face and he’s blushing. The rosy red of his cheeks pops on his pale skin, a beautiful contrast of emotion and colour.

“‘Oh look how pretty my girlfriend looks today’.” Troy mocks in a poorly attempted Swedish accent.

The crowd giggles at his comment, more so the accent than anything else.

“Try sharing a room with him when on the road,” Quinn rolls his eyes, “‘Why won’t she text me back?’ ‘What time is it in Vancouver?’ ‘I hope Y/N is thinking about me.’ The only thing he talks about is her.”

This comment causes you to blush this time, knowing how much Elias likes to know what you’re up to when on the road.

“How’d you get him so whipped for you, Y/N?” Thatcher yells, causing Elias’ teammates to burst into laughter.

“You’re just jealous you’re not whipped for anyone.” Elias chirps back before leading you into the kitchen.

02.

Elias couldn’t stand being around his teammates when they were drunk. They were a messy group of crazies when inebriated.

Elias didn’t enjoy getting drunk without you. He would become eight times more clingy if you were with him, but annoyingly mopey if you weren’t. You had an exam the following Wednesday and talked about really needing the extra time to study.

Elias had tried his hardest to get you to come with him to no avail. So he had respected your wishes and departed for the bar alone, not before kissing you goodbye and promising an early return time.

What Elias had even failed to mention was the fact that tonight was actually guys’ night and you weren’t supposed to be invited in the first place.

So here he sat, at the bar, a coke in hand as he stares at the tv on the wall behind him. Some basketball game is being played, not that he understands basketball but it’s a better distraction than watching the water drop race down the side of his cup.

Brock had been chasing him down all night trying his best to shove shots down Elias’ throat with a very low success rate of zero. So when Brock finally finds Elias at the bar, he’s got a game plan to get Elias tanked.

Brock sat, not gracefully at all, down beside Elias. He slides the tequila shot over to the Swede and smirks when Elias looks up at him.

“I thought I told you earlier I don’t want to drink,” Elias says he’s clearly annoyed with Brock’s antics.

“But I ignored it. Face it, man, you’re boring as hell without Y/N.” Brock taunts, watching as Elias scrunches his face up with distaste before picking up the tiny shot glass and slurping it up quickly.

Brock smiles happily as Elias downs the shot. Brock waves to the bartender and gets Elias six more shots.

It requires no more taunting or work to get Elias to consume the rest of the shots. Elias and Brock get up from the bar and go to join the rest of the team in their booth.

Bo raises an eyebrow at the clearly now intoxicated Elias who is having a bit of trouble walking. JT just smirks and pushes the remaining five shots the group had ordered towards the young Swede.

Elias happily accepts, the alcohol hitting hard. The team is talking around him, as he begins to think about how he misses you.

Quinn notices the shift of his mood first. “Uh oh,” He gestures towards Elias, “you okay there, bud?”

“I just miss her.” Elias whines, his whole entire face falls.

“Fuck, you’ve barely even been gone for two hours. You need to be able to be away from her.” Thatcher gets agitated easily when drunk and it’s clear as he looks at Elias.

“He just loves her,” Bo rolls his eyes at Thatcher.

“Nah, he misses her tits.” Tanner Pearson yells, he’s sitting beside Bo but fails to understand the sheer volume of his voice.

“They’re pretty.” Elias murmurs, from where his head has sunk down onto the table.

“You can’t even spend three hours with your friends without missing your girlfriend,” Troy laughs, “You are whipped.”

Elias doesn’t respond, his cell phone pings diverting his attention away from being teased. There’s a text from you and his face lights up.

Love of my life: baby, do you need me to come to get you? Brock sent me some videos and you seem pretty wasted

Elias: pluhse cohme geta me

Love of my life: on my way hot stuff

“Where’s the out?” Elias slurs, as he looks up from his phone.

Bo laughs before helping Elias up from the booth and leading him to the door.

03.

It was a rough game. Elias was frustrated, he’d been hit several times by the opposing team and nearly got injured. He was thankful for his teammates who had come to his rescue and beat the shit out of the opposing team players.

But they hadn’t been able to bring the W home. Elias couldn’t beat the opposing team’s goalie either and had failed to secure any points for himself.

He hated nights like these. He especially hated nights like these when you were here to watch. With your school schedule the way it was, he wanted to make sure that when you got to go to a game that he played well and made it worth it. To make it worse, his family was visiting from Sweden as well.

He’d been quiet in the dressing room, which was normal for him but this was a different type of quiet. He was stuck in his own head, and all he wanted was to be held by you.

Brock had been attempting to bring up team spirit but was failing epically. He had managed to get out of his gear quicker than Elias.

He finds you standing among the other WAGs, friends and family in the hallway outside the dressing room.

You’re standing beside Irene, listening and nodding as she and Torbjorn discuss the game. Fanny is on her phone, texting Emil who couldn’t make it to Vancouver during this trip.

Brock approaches you, pulling you from your thoughts as he joins your little group.

“He’s in rough shape,” Brock says, looking straight at you.

“Is he hurt?” You’re worried, searching Brock’s face for any indication that he’s lying to you.

“No, but he’s beating himself-” Brock is cut off as Elias pushes past him.

Elias wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. For someone so large, he can easily make himself seem so small in your arms.

He buries his face in your neck, letting you run your fingers through his hair. His breathing begins to even out as you sway him back and forth a little.

His mother stands there watching you embrace her son and she smiles fondly, his dad has engaged Brock in conversation and you can see Fanny filming the scene over Irene’s shoulder. You can’t help but smile at the little family you have here at this moment.

You’re facing the end of the hallway out to the parking lot.

Elias looks up to see his teammates standing behind you in a group, they mimic cracking whips and mouth ‘whipped’ at him. It’s all Elias can do to just hide his face back in your neck and inhale your calming scent.

04.

Your boyfriend was an angel. Quarantine was kicking your guys’ asses. Elias had been adamant that you come with him to Sweden since your classes had gone online. He’d been so supportive of you finishing your classes that you wanted to reward him.

A big thing both you and Elias had gotten into during quarantine was TikTok, Elias had even done a couple of dances with you and begun to create his own funny content. You’d been thoroughly enjoying the TikTok trend of girls walking out in front of their boyfriends naked while they were busy and decided it would be a fantastic idea to try with Elias.

You knew for certain that he was gaming with Brock, Quinn and Thatcher. His other friends had logged off as it was getting late in Sweden.

Elias wore headphones while gaming with a mic, but thankfully no camera.

You happily strip down to nothing, wrapping a towel around yourself and opening your TikTok app. You start to film as you walk into the living room.

He looks up at you and smiles before going back to his game. They’re playing NHL20 and Elias seems to be kicking the other boys’ asses. You can hear their voices screaming at him through his headphones.

You clear your throat and watch him look up at you, the game paused. You smile coyly and drop the towel, watching as his eyes widen. His jaw drops and he kind of just freezes in place.

“Okay, bye guys.” He says into the mic before throwing his headset on the couch and diving for you. You end the video and post it quickly as he carries you to the bedroom.

Elias wakes the next morning to several texts in his group chat with Thatcher, Brock and Quinn.

Quinn: Leave us for Y/N?

Brock: Petey is getting laid

Thatcher: Yeah cause he’s fucking pussy whipped

Quinn: Can’t believe he ditched us to get laid

Thatcher: You’re just mad I won instead of him

Brock: Nah boys, Petey won. He got fucked.

Elias: If you guys had a girl getting naked in front of you I’m damn sure you’d ditch the boys for sex, I‘d rather be whipped than jerking off by myself every night Thatcher

05.

Brock smiled as he watched Elias dial his phone. Brock had gotten his way, he suggested Thai takeout much to your displeasure but Thatcher, Quinn, Troy, Emma, and Thatcher agreed with him. It had left Elias with no choice but to order the Thai.

You had Thai for lunch, there was a good place close by campus. You and your friends had studied and caught up, enjoying your meals.

You expressed this to the group but it fell on deaf ears. Brock had managed to convince the whole group to go along with his craving. You just really wanted butter chicken.

But you went along with the group.

It was your guys’ weekly group movie night. You and Elias were curled up on the love seat while everyone else had piled onto your L-shaped couch. Milo, Coolie, Phoebe, and Delilah were laid out on the floor in various places, having already been fed by their respective owners.

Thatcher had tried to convince everyone to watch Lord of the Rings but he tried every week to no avail. Emma had suggested the Hunger Games and everyone had agreed to that idea.

The reaping was midway through when the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of the food. Elias presses pause on the movie and everyone checks their phones in anticipation of the food.

Elias presses a kiss to your forehead before removing your shared blanket from his body. He makes his way to the front door to get the food and tip the delivery person.

He comes back with a large bag and one tiny container.

He places the bag down on the coffee table and picks up the small container before coming back to join you on the love seat.

He hands you the container and cutlery. You look confused as you accept the container, peeling off the lid to find butter chicken and garlic naan. You smile victoriously, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks, baby.” You smile and dig into your food.

Brock looks over and notices your container, his jaw drops as he looks back at Elias who is fixing himself some food at the coffee table.

“Did you seriously get your girlfriend food from a different place because she didn’t want Thai food?” Brock questions, drawing the group’s attention to the container in your lap.

“Since you clearly know the answer, I’m not answering that question, Brock.” Elias rolls his eyes and then focuses back on the food he’s scooping out of one of the many containers.

“God that’s pathetic.” Thatcher laughs, “You realize you’re fucking her and don’t need to constantly impress her.”

“I like to keep my woman happy,” Elias says matter of factly as he rejoins you on the love seat, purposely pulling you into his lap for emphasis.

“He’s very good at it.” You smile, rubbing his bicep as he smiles back at you.

“He’s very whipped is what he is,” Quinn laughs. Elias takes his attention away from you to frown at his younger teammate.

“You guys are horribly unromantic,” Emma says to the boys before turning to Elias, “I think it’s sweet that you are so in tune with Y/N’s needs.”

Elias blushes before pressing play on the movie to bring everyone’s attention away from him.

06.

The men had thought it was the perfect day for a picnic at Stanley Park. They’d arranged everything.

Bringing grills and the food and all necessary cutlery, they made hotdogs and hamburgers. The children raced around playing versions of the game tag you couldn’t comprehend from watching.

The atmosphere was jovial as everyone gathered and ate.

You had been talking to one of the kids when Elias approached you.

“Oh babe, your shoelace is untied, let me get it for you.” Elias bends down, you half expect some chirping or even the guys making whip noises around you.

So you look around at the team and notice everyone staring at you. Thatcher, Brock and Quinn have their phones out.

You turn back to Elias to ask him why they aren’t teasing him, only to find Elias knelt in front of you on one knee. He’s holding a box with the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen in it.

Your hand comes to cover your mouth as you hold back a sob. You can’t express the joy in your heart as you stare into the most beautiful blue eyes.

Elias smiles, he too is tearing up.

“Y/N M/N L/N, you are my other half. You bring me comfort and joy. You are my best friend and my biggest supporter, there’s nowhere I want to be more than by your side for the rest of my life. I want to give you everything because you give me everything you are. I want a house and a family with you. You never fail to make me laugh when I need to be uplifted. I love who I am when I’m with you. You make me the best version of myself. Will you make me the happiest man on the planet and become my wife?” Elias never falters as he asks you.

“Yes,” you manage to cry out, his speech truly affecting you.

He stands up as quick as he can and pulls you into a kiss. It’s salty and wet as both of you are crying but it’s soft and passionate. He pulls away to place the ring on your finger and to rest his forehead against yours.

The team begins to clap and cheer around you.

[lampmanliveblogs]

The Echo ouse Musse decided to share another entry of Philip Wittebane’s diary. It takes place five years after his journey began. He heard tales of lakes where the Titan’s veins had leaked some of its blood into lakes, which now reflected the blue sky and green trees of the Human Realm (which Belos specifically brought up before). One of these portals is located at Eclipse Lake at a mountaintop, which is probably the Knee where Kikimora is headed.

We already knew about Titan’s blood and how it could transport things between realms. Though now that it has been brought up again, I’m wondering if it was actually Titan’s blood that Belos was feeding into the portal door before and he needs more.

After The Owl house crew decides to split up, with Eda, King & Amity heading to Eclipse Lake, we cut to somewhere on the Knee. Kikimora is abusing some scouts,  trying to get them to dig faster, even though the tunnels are unstable.

It’s still not fully clear what exactly it is they’re digging for. It looks like it might be some kind of mining operation. Perhaps they’re digging into the flesh of the Titan to find some veins that might hold some blood still. Maybe Eclipse Lake was buried some time in the last four hundred years or so since Philip Wittebane came to visit.

It’s a good thing Kikimora brought Steve with her to this mission though. Steve is good at mining. But don’t be fooled by the blocks that he’s got, without a modpack, all he’s rocking is rocks.

I paused approximately one whole nanosecond too late, but I think that just made the thing funnier.

I guess no one in this episode just want to do like I tell them to do, because instead of going after the portal key, Hunter decided to dress up as the Grey Guard and go sabotage Kikimora’s mission. Like she thought he would. There’s still a chance Hunter’s gonna get his hands on the key though, since Amity is bringing it with her.

We also got confirmation here that the mission is to retrieve Titan’s Blood. Which Hunter plans to steal from Kimora and bring to Belos so he’ll be useful again. Which is also Kikimora’s motivation. You know, you two might actually get more done if you teamed up. Then you could both be valuable to the creepy dictator/cult leader.

I just gotta say though, I love how Hunter is all like ”Go away stupid palisman!” to the little rascal, but then in the very next breath starts explaining his plan.

Speaking of his plan, it kinda sucks. For one thing, even if he brings the Titan’s Blood to Belos, I don’t think Belos is gonna be very happy that he snuck out of the castle against orders. Or that he sabotaged Kikimora for that matter. Also, it doesn’t look like he brought his staff with him, leaving him mostly defenseless.

Don’t worry bro, it’s not you. It’s the Swedish you they’re talking about, he’s the one with the annoying voice.

I love this moment. Hunter is about to go into another one of his history lessons, like he did with Luz, but of course Eda and King are not gonna pay attention to that. And Amity doesn’t care either. It looks like you’re gonna need more than just some nerdy knowledge to get gain their sympathies, Hunter. I would tell you to try your tragic backstory of being magicless, since Eda is without magic too now, but she has this whole Harpy thing going for her now so she might not care.

With that, I’m gonna end things off for now. I should be able to get the rest done tomorrow, so I’ll see you all then.

[helloliriels]

INTO BATTLE

by helloliriels

The first bite of wedding cake to touch his mouth that day was prinsesstårta. It was a ridiculous risk, and he really shouldn’t have, but damn if it hadn’t been delicious! As Sherlock slid the fork onto John’s tongue and let him bite into the marzipan and raspberry concoction, all John could think of was letting Sherlock kiss it off of his lips. He did. They did.

And did some more … giggling …

The minister coughed drily. Reminding them of the day, and the hour.

They both pulled back reluctantly. Sorting themselves back into a semblance of traditional anxious ‘Groom’ and reluctant ‘Best Man’ - and hid the smiles that threatened to overtake their ‘I’ve-waited-for-this-moment-all-my-life’ faces.

The green color of the Swedish cake glowed at them from the table. It was a perfect match for the carnations they had snuck into the wedding bouquets that overflowed in every corner of the wedding hall and now stood on a dressing table, wrapped in cellophane ... waiting for Mary to finish dressing and pick it up.

John’s eyes danced to Sherlock, thanking him silently for this reclaiming. Sherlock nodded.

The minister handed him a pen, and Sherlock quickly signed the page. He had never been so happy to sign a document in his life! John followed suit.

They exchanged one more knowing glance, and then they were ready.

To battle.

The minister folded the piece of paper up and hid it inside of his inner vest pocket. Then he crumpled the remains of the cake slice into it’s plate in a nearby bin and covered it with some tissues, a coffee stained napkin and a now empty coffee cup he had been told to bring with him. Making sure no one could see it under all the rubbish.

The man with the umbrella had been oddly clear on that point …

Providing the vest, and the badly needed coffee ...

This was going to be the most unique wedding day he had ever officiated. He could tell already.

@johnlocky @fluffbyday-smutbynight @ohlooktheresabee @calaisreno @kitten-kin @bluebellofbakerstreet @arwamachine @therealsaintscully @totallysilvergirl @elldotsee @khorazir @masterofhounds @janetm74 @discordantwords @7-percent @simplyclockwork @randomwordsonpaper @saoirse-1887 @rachel1337 @mentally-unstable-fangirl @angrybagginshieldbakery @thequirkyotter @cmorris-art @thewatsonbeekeepers @peepingcreek @evanesse888 @shelleysprometheus @swissmissing @inevitably-johnlocked @finleycannotdraw @summerfly-lesbian @mr-nauseam @battledress @margueritesomebodyoranother @hyacinths-on-my-grave @missdeliadili @iamjustreading @peanitbear @bertytravelsfar @pocketwatchofmycroft @iwlyanmw @i-still-am-distantstarlight @dinner--starving

[incognito-lionbeast]

Ancient Aliens

Summary: While taking a quick pit stop at a gas station along the way to New York, Wylde explains his prosthetic arm to a little girl.

Ao3: /works/40884336 ----

   A little girl with doe eyes wide and bright stared innocently at the gleaming, metallic surface of Wylde’s prosthetic arm. If she were, perhaps, a little less well-behaved, then only a miracle could have stopped her from reaching out to touch it. She wanted to. Oh, she wanted to, but she still had her manners and the big guy attached to it was, maybe, a little more intimidating than she’d like to admit. But only a little! She retreated part-way behind the aisle’s end cap when Wylde looked her way, shyness getting the best of her. Although, to the benefit of her parents a few aisles away, perhaps that was wisdom beyond her years.

   Wylde was still a stranger, after all.

  “Hey,” Wylde entreated softly, staying exactly where he was. “Y’know, I promise I don’t bite. If you got somethin’ you wanna ask, I’m all ears.”

   Wylde scanned across the gas station’s hovel of a storefront as he awaited a response. Where was Vert? Don’t tell him that he lost both him and Kurt in such a tiny shop. Eh, whatever. They’d resurface eventually. There wasn’t enough of a commotion for it to be a kidnapping. Not in broad daylight. Satisfied with the thought that maybe they were using the facilities, Wylde was caught off-guard when the little girl snuck back into the aisle again to stare at him better. Her eyes pierced right through him with childish wonder, now clutching a small bag of overpriced Swedish fish.

   A buffer.

  “What happened to your arm?” She asked over the loud crinkling of plastic and fishies. This was the most important question she’d ever asked, and she was appropriately nervous about it. As such, Wylde knelt down to a more child-friendly level, brandishing his accursed Drone arm like it was something special. He was no Edward Elric, but it probably looked pretty cool to anyone that didn’t know better. Like this little girl. So, he was gonna try to be on his best behaviour, too. Mostly. There was a spark of something mischievous in his expression.

   “Promise you won’t tell nobody?” Wylde answered, leveling with her.

   She nodded.

  “A’ight, see.. truth is, I got kidnapped by some real mean alien robots,” he said, delighted with the knowledge that he was saying nothing but the truth -- yet, it didn’t really matter how many people she told. The credibility of an imaginative 7 year-old was more than a little iffy. Still, Wylde couldn’t go letting her be scared  about it, so he amended with all the confidence he could muster. “Don’t worry, though. Me and my friends took care of ‘em all. They might’ve gotten my arm, but eh… it’s alright. Doesn’t hurt.”

   Actually, Mark still couldn’t remember the whole thing, but that wasn’t important.

   The important part was–watching the little girl’s eyes grow rounder and rounder–that she believed him. Completely and without question. She ducked behind her protective bag of fish to process this incredible, new knowledge, and it was her knowledge! All hers.

   Or, at least it was ‘til she blurted it all to her parents at the very next chance she got, but nobody was perfect.

[nylwnder]

cold december night | rasmus sandin

a/n: finally writing for my swedish lil’ baby!!! rasmus i love you so much and i think he’s out of protocol today so let’s fucking gooo!!!

warnings: make out session, implied soft smut (nothing bad so it’s okay)

word count: 1.05k

taglist: @bb-nhlqueen7 , @sebbyaho , @swedishprince88 , @nilspettersson , @boqvistsbabe , @oliviapangburn118 , @brandtsclarke , @stars-canucks , @drei-mrssvechii , @joeljuice

inspired by: cold december night by michael bublé

series masterpost: 10 days of christmas

hand in hand, we walked through the park to get some air on this cold december night. it was just after evening, so the parks were empty. the snow left with marks from sleds that kids would ride all afternoon.

i looked up at rasmus’ face, it was rosy. he smiles at me and it made me feel warm against the frosty air. all of a sudden my foot slipped on a certain section of the cement most luckily due to black ice. although i was holding sandy’s hand, i still fell on a pile of snow pulling him with me. “woah! haha are you okay, sötnos?” he asks as he grabs me tight to pull me up.

“yeah, yeah i’m okay. black ice.” i said. he kissed my head, but whilst i saw the pile of snow and i couldn’t help but decide to quickly form a snowball and hide it behind my back. when we started to walk again, sandy began talking but i trailed back and threw the white ball on his back.

i laughed while he stopped in his tracks and turned around with a look that only meant ‘it was on’. i ran away when i saw him bend down to the snow but i felt a hit on my arm. i turned around and gave him a mischievous look, i wasn’t going to lose this time.

i ran some more until i hid by a light post and tried my best to form a bigger ball than before. ras walked over to me but i snuck away from the lighpost and threw the snowball that then landed on his stomach. he laughed as he wiped his jacket and ran after me. he was about to grab hold of me by a piece of my jacket but i was able to dodge him off and i ran a bit more forward to stand in front of him with distance. he stopped and we gave each other a stare off. “i’m going to win this time! last time you won just cause i fell. so it’s so on sandman.” i said, he smiled in response.

“oh y/n... try me” he says as he throws a snowball he had been hiding. it hit my leg as i gave him a shocked face. i quickly ducked to grab a chunk of snow and threw it at him, some landed on his face as well. “oh we’re doing face?” he asks, as he scoops snow to my direction. it landed on my hair and i let out a small noise because of the coldness.

i ran to the nearest hill covered in white and made two perfectly round snowballs with the sticky snow. i looked around and couldn’t find rasmus in sight. i walked along slowly, looking in every direction possible. “sandyyyy…..” i said, though he was still nowhere near in sight.

i began to feel two different things: he was probably setting me up so don't lose focus, but then also seeing my boyfriend out of insight in the small empty park at night should sort of make you nervous.

i called after him again and there was no sign from him. not even a sound. “hey come on, how are we supposed to play if i can’t even see you!” i protested. it wasn't until i felt a large round shape hit my back that i got mad he was in such close contact. i turned around and threw one of the snowballs at him but i missed. i dropped my other one as i heard his laugh right before he ran up to me, grabbing me and gently but effectively putting me down to the ground.

i let out a screech as he pinned me down just enough to not be able to shimmy out. we both laughed, as he sat up, forming another snowball. “fine, finish me.” i said while looking to the side and waiting for the last hit to seal his victory.

he smirked, but as he looked at me he stalled. he ended up dropping the ball to his side and said, “you know what, i’m actually a nice guy.” allowing me to get up, i grabbed his snowball and hit him in the stomach. “fine, i win!” i said, giving him a grin.

he grinned back, pulling me to him and kissing me hard. his lips were warm and soft. they parted slightly, allowing my tongue to slip inside. i grabbed the back of his neck and stood a bit taller to try to never let go of the movements our lips made together. but one of us had to make the decision to break it cause our lungs needed a breath. so i pulled back and let the cold air come in and out of me. “well, i don’t think nice guys kiss like that.” i said.

“oh yes they do” he says as he takes my hand and we jog back to our cozy apartment. we burst open the door and i pin him to the wall by the shoe rack. he kicked the door closed and lifted me up carrying me to the couch. as he sat down i straddled his lap and tugged at his hair.

our bodies pressed together heatedly, breathing heavily as our lips also pressed together. we fumbled to take off our wintery clothes, but i striped him of his coat and his sweater. my hands roamed his torso and we only broke our kisses for air.

we became even more needy and continued with our soft and intimate actions. “i love you” was said throughout, igniting our desire for each other. we really do love each other and i’m so grateful for having him in my life.

after, we laid together on the couch, chest to chest, drawing things with our fingers on each other’s exposed skin. he kissed my forehead, his hand resting on my hip. our legs tangled, our bodies toasty warm compared to earlier. soft music played in the back as the christmas tree in the living room lighted up the space just enough.

“thank you for falling in love with me” i said as i gave him a kiss on the chin. he smiled and kissed me, “it’s my pleasure älskling”

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