#there's an Irish word 'teas'

[teledyn]

"In A Brief History of Time, the early (bottom-up) Hawking famously wrote, “Even if we do find a theory of everything, it is just a set of rules and equations. What is it that breathes fire into the equations?” The answer of the later (top-down) Hawking was: observership. We create the universe as much as the universe creates us."

-- Thomas Hertog

On the Origin of Time - Stephen Hawking's Final Theory

[chrispy-bones]

I wanted to draw Kermit the frog and so I did

featuring violent Kermit: he doesn't lead the muppets anymore now he does crime !!

[dark-raven-feathers]

Languages the Doc is either fluent or partially fluent in (ft. living a long time and travelling helps a lot): -Lingua Latina (Latin) -Eald Englisc (Old English) -Gaidhlig (Irish gaelic) -English -Francais (French) -Espanol (Spanish. Less so as it is a relatively new language she picked up) -Sign language (not canon-compliant to BSL or ASL)

[ltwilliammowett]

Old naval slang

A small collection of terms from the 18th - early 20th century that were and probably still are known among sailors.

Admiralty Ham - Royal Navy canned fish Batten your hatch - shut up Beachcomber - a good-for-nothing Cape Horn Fever - feigned illness Cheeseparer - a cheat Claw off - to avoid an embarrassing question or argument Cockbilled - drunk Cumshaw - small craft - Chinese version of scrimshaw Dead Marine - empty liquor bottle Donkey's Breakfast - mattress filled with straw Dunnage - personal equipment of a sailor Flying Fish sailor - sailor stationed in Asian waters Galley yarn - rumour, story Hog yoke- sextant Holy Joe - ship's chaplain Irish hurricane- dead calm Irish pennant - frayed line or piece of clothing Jamaican discipline - unruly behaviour Knock galley west - to knock a person out Leatherneck - a marine Limey - a British sailor Liverpool pennant - a piece of string used to replace a lost button Loaded to the guards - drunk Old Man - captain of the ship One and only - the sailor's best girl On the beach - ashore without a berth Pale Ale - drinking water Quarterdeck voice - the voice of authority Railroad Pants - uniform trousers with braid on the outer leg seam Railway tracks - badge of a first lieutenant Round bottomed chest - sea bag Schooner on the rocks - roast beef and roast potatoes Show a leg - rise and shine Sling it over - pass it to me Slip his cable - die Sundowner - unreasonable tough officer Swallow the anchor - retire Sweat the glass - shake the hour glass to make the time on watch pass quickly - strictly forbidden ! Tops'l buster - strong gale Trim the dish - balance the ship so that it sails on an even keel Turnpike sailor - beggar ashore, a landlubber claiming to be an old sailor in distress Water bewitched - weak tea White rat - sailor who curries favor with the officers

Sailors' Language, by W. Clark Russell, 1883 Soldier and Sailor Words and Phrases. Edward Fraser and John Gibbons, 1925 Sea Slang, by Frank C. Bowen, 1929 Royal Navalese, by Commander John Irving, 1946 Sea Slang of the 20th century, by Wilfried Granville, 1949 The Sailor's Word Book, by Admiral W.H. Smyth, 1967

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A List of "Beautiful" Untranslatable Words

Acasă - [Romanian] Where you feel at home, safe, loved. It's the place where you feel like you belong and that you miss when you're away.

Boketto - [Japanese] gazing vacantly into the distance without thinking of anything specific; daydreaming

Ciğerpare - [Turkish] has Persian origins and literally means ‘liver part’. It refers to someone that you love as much as your own body.

Clagarnach - [Irish] the sound of heavy rain on a rooftop

Commuovere - [Italian] often taken to mean “heartwarming,” but directly refers to a story that moved you to tears

Dauwtrappen - [Dutch] to walk barefoot through morning grass

Dustsceawung - [Old English] the thought that dust used to be other things, and realisation that everything will ultimately end up as dust

Elvágyódás - [Hungarian] Some compare it to wanderlust, but it’s a much broader concept. The word doesn’t just refer to the desire to travel or go to another country, but also to another time in our life, or even a different era. It expresses wanting to escape reality and looking for something undefined.

Encebre - [Galician] something authentic, characteristic, rooted into the culture and specific for a certain region, impossible to find anywhere else

Fernweh - [German] “far sickness”; the feeling of longing for a place you’ve never been to

Fika - [Swedish] enjoying a nice chat over a cup of coffee or tea.

Flâner - [French] aimlessly wandering without any destination, just to enjoy the views

Gluggaveður - [Icelandic] weather that looks beautiful but is unpleasant to be in

Gökotta - [Swedish] waking up early to hear the first birds sing

Heimat - [German] the roots that shape who you are as a person

Hiányérzet - [Hungarian] the feeling that something is missing, but we just can’t put a finger on it

Iktsuarpok - [Inuit] the feeling of anticipation that leads you to keep looking outside to see if anyone is coming

Kairós - [Greek] the perfect, most opportune time for something to happen

Komorebi - [Japanese] sunlight that filters between the leaves on a tree

L’appel du vide - [French] “the call of the void” or the sudden desire to jump when you’re standing high up

Luftmensch - [Yiddish] someone who is a bit of a dreamer

Luscofusco - [Galician] the moment when day fades into the night and all light disappears, leaving everything looking like shadows

Mångata - [Swedish] the trail created by the moon’s reflection on water

Mangomoment - [Dutch] small acts of affection occurring during regular everyday activities. They can be almost unnoticeable, like someone asking how you’re feeling or offering to share their snack with you.

Merak - [Serbian] the feeling you get from simple pleasures that adds up to a sense of happiness and fulfillment

Peiskos - [Norwegian] the experience of sitting in front of a crackling fireplace enjoying the warmth

Querencia - [Spanish] somewhere you feel the most at home

Retrouvailles - [French] a reunion with a loved one after a long time of not seeing each other

Saudade - [Portuguese] the longing for something beautiful that’s now gone

Symatisk - [Danish] to have a good feeling about someone we don’t know very well

Torschlusspanik - [German] The realisation that you need to do something with your life because the time is running and you’re not getting any younger. It can hit you at any age, so one could call it a universal equivalent to the mid-life crisis.

Toska - [Russian] a mixture of pining, restlessness, yearning, nostalgia, melancholy, and depression; a concept embracing the feelings of nostalgia, missing, being sad, even the beginnings of depression

Tsundoku - [Japanese] buying a book and leaving it unread, usually surrounded by a lot of other unread books

Uitwaaien - [Dutch] to go out in windy weather, particularly into nature or a park, in order to refresh and clear one’s mind

Utepils - [Norwegian] sitting outside on a sunny day and enjoying a beer

Vedriti - [Slovenian] to shelter from the rain, either literally or metaphorically, such as when you’re in a bad mood and you’re waiting for the negative emotions to pass

Waldeinsamkeit - [German] the feeling of solitude, being alone in the woods, and a connectedness to nature

Weltschmerz – [German] satirist, Jean Paul, originally known as Johann Paul Friedrich Richter, came up with this word that literally means “world pain.” When you feel that the world is in a deplorable state, Weltschmerz can describe your anguish.

Won - [Korean] reluctance to let go of an illusion

Żal - [Polish] grief, sadness, regret - can be related to both our actions and the actions of others, as well as losing something or missing someone

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ Word Lists

[rosellacwrites]

if you want to call me baby (just go ahead now)

summary: As it turns out, the language of love is — all of them.

pairings: Steven Grant x GN!Reader

rating: general audiences

warnings: weapons grade fluff, established relationship, pet names (so many)

word count: 577

author’s note: Written for the Moon Knight Spring Bingo @moonknight-events — this is entry #4 for “Ritual.” Happy reading! ❤️

dividers by @firefly-graphics

It had started, as do so many things between you, in bed.

“G’night, my dear,” Steven had murmured to you, pulling your back snug against his chest and burrowing his face into your neck, but you’d started to giggle.

“‘My dear?’ What are you, eighty?” you’d laughed.

“What’s wrong with that? You’re very dear to me,” he’d protested.

“And you are to me, too. You know that.” You’d twisted around, craning your neck for a kiss. “It just struck me as funny — you have to admit it has pensioner vibes.”

He’d huffed and kissed you back, and as you’d drifted into sleep you’d heard him say something along the lines of just going to have to find something tomorrow you like better, then.

You’d forgotten about it until the next evening, when he’d dropped a kiss on top of your head on the way to the kitchen and said “Do you want some popcorn, habibi?” When you’d looked up at him quizzically, he was grinning. “‘My love,’” he’d translated. “Arabic. No ‘pensioner vibes’ there, yeah?”

You’d grinned at him and said you supposed not, and the next morning you’d handed him a cup of tea and called him petit chou, and belatedly remembered that he spoke French well enough to know you’d just called him a little cabbage.

And from that point, it was on. You racked your brains for long-forgotten vocabulary words and pored over language dictionaries online, the authorized and unauthorized alike. After that first one, he refused to translate for you anymore: “go on, I want to see if you can find out for yourself,” he’d said. Most of them weren’t so hard, but he’d stumped you with nedjem, which turned out to be Ancient Egyptian (because of course it did) for sweetie.

In revenge, you’d resorted to something he couldn’t possibly spell just from hearing it. “Oh, that’s not playing fair!” he’d protested, and you were weak enough to give him a hint. Knowing where to start, and using his best attempts at phonetic spelling, he got there in the end, all the way to a chuisle mo chroí, Irish for pulse of my heart.

It became your ritual, each new name another star in your shared sky. Persian kharâbetam, I’m ruined for you, taking its place next to Brazilian Portuguese chuchuzinho, little squash, and Ojibwemowin niinimoshenh, sweetheart. You start secretly keeping a list so you don’t repeat yourself, filled with German and Russian and Igbo, liebling, solnyshko, obi’m, but your favorite so far is the Spanish media naranja, because it makes you think of you and Steven curled up together in bed, fitting into each other seamlessly like two halves of the same orange.

Some silly, some sweet, some passionate: you find yourself humbled before the infinite possibilities, marveling at just how many ways there are in the universe to tell someone that you love them.

One evening he comes up behind you while you’re making dinner, and wraps an arm around your waist, kissing you just behind your ear. He whispers your name, and something else, besides.

“Veux-tu m’épouser?”

It doesn’t sound like a pet name, with the soft, nearly tentative way he says it; it sounds like a question. Like an important question — the kind of question you’ll see written in tremulous hope all over his face and cupped gently in his other hand when you turn around to tell him in plain English yes, absolutely, a thousand times yes.

@juneknight @spacecowboyhotch (mod tags)

(pssst today’s my birthday so I wanted to post a little supremely self-indulgent fluff)

Title from here, of course. I’m gonna make y’all listen to my old lady music if it kills me.

[artebris]

Two in the Boat

Silence. A heavy, hopeless silence after such an innocent proposal. Just a proposal! As it is usual while Ominis is gathering the unpleasant thought in his mind. Getting ready to deny with all his stubbornness.

She’s used to it. This sweet and tough indecision, the frowning eyebrows, cracking voice. At the same time, the fierce desire to act and a thousand thoughts about obstacles on the way are reflected in the blind turquoise mirrors of his eyes, in which she so often sees her own face... He does not trust, does not believe in the good, as always, but he would like to. She knows he would like.

The light silky voice slowly breaks the silence

“I am not sure… This is hopeless, and you are aware of it yourself. Not because of you or me or whatever is happening between us, not in a second. If there was not such danger and hazard for you, I’d… You always knew that it was hopeless, don’t you? We have no future if we do this, we better stay as secret as we are. Whatever we could decide, they shall know. They shall pursue us, and I am afraid of the worst. My family would not touch me, I suppose, not in the way they would do with you, and I have no wish to even imagine… I wish no harm to you, my love, and they would never approve this union in this world.”

His family... Always a pain in the... Arlene doesn't care, she'd make sure no one gets near them, and she knows that with Ominis, the best strategy is patience, no fuss, confidence and the best arguments. And she should have them. And she has them. His “no” never stops her, just because she knows that his “no” comes from fears, traumas and uncertainty, not from unwillingness.

It's all in the intonation, the trembling of the words, when Irving knows for sure, he would like it very much, but... But, but, but. Fears, concerns, traumas, especially when it comes to everything that revolves around the mention of the word Gaunt.

Her hand lazily and calmly pulls the tea cup away. She stands up and stretches her limbs.

“In this world, huh? Then let us go beyond one.”

The bewilderment on his face. He frowns but doesn't stop her. Ominis has known for a long time that this one always has crazy ideas. The one mind that spines clockwise. Like that one clock on the Celestial door. His crazy woman with twisted mind.

The Irish continues softly. Calm, confident, practical to the bone. Nothing to it, that what she always says.

“We shall leave the world. The sea is something different, the stage in between realms… We shall take a ship and leave the shores, nobody ever shall find us there. It is only three days until my captain's initiation and launching of the Silver Siren… And the captain with certain license which I intend to gain in London soon... Can marry anyone on his ship. Including himself or herself.”

A few slow steps to his side. Gaunt does not move, slowly blinking and turning his face to the side of the sounds.

“That’s…”

“I know. Not really official, complicated... But the sea has its own law. The waves and sunset would be witnesses. Maybe some dolphins. And the ship's log. Whoever argues with that, they should say it to me.”

She talks too much. Annoying, fast, but somehow sweet. Captain’s tone she is already trained with so well, and that he actually somehow likes. She always try to mend things that are perhaps even not broken. Always thinking ahead, always inventing a different way to get something or get away with something. He hears her stepping forward. Close enough to touch, to grab, to… shut up.

“No, that’s…”

“Please… There should be the way. Until you think I should make it to Admiral with bigger powers, but that shall take me decades and we shall be aged… Or you think they could spot us somewhere in the middle of the deep seas? Insane. Besides, you know that no one matches me on the sea with the fast sailing, and if they try…”

Gaunt smirks and presses his finger to the plump crimson lips that speak so much. Not long way to go and he already perfectly knows the length of his hand he should reach. She is so small… And he knows how does that work. Ah, silence. Small trembling of the tiny trained body he knows so well. His wild Irish may be full of that unstoppable energy, but Ominis is pretty aware of his own powers over this one. One gesture and she’s done.

“No. That is… perfect. “

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The waves break peacefully against the white side of a small ship. It has dropped anchor somewhere in the open sea and is now lazily rocking from side to side, illuminated by the rays of the setting sun. A little more and night will come, billions of stars scattered across the dark canvas, like a perfect blueprint.

On the deck of a ship, two people stand, their faces directed in the same direction. Nothing fancy. A simple white outfit on the young woman, made of the soft fabric, and a dark green formal suit on the young man. No special decorations, no noisy guests, no fireworks, no flowers, no even best friends.

Two runaways. Homeless, no roots. Denied families, left homes, forgotten names. Two flowing green rivers, blending in one. Two lonely souls, rushing through the space, hand in hand from now on. No one would know where did they go. Perhaps, they would not ever come back to the lands they’ve left again…

Just the sea, the sunset and the wind.

And the Promise.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

“In every world, in every shadow of existence.

In this one and another one, in life and death, in happiness and sorrows.

In joy, in pain, in light and dark. In inlness and the health.

In this life and beyond, in each and every realm we enter, shall we always meet again…

Blind and seeing, mad and sane, in love or hate,

In any form of being, in any state of mind, I swear to love you, to protect you and to care for you.”

“I shall always be with you.”

I know it is not June, but this post is inspired by: @tamayula-hl

With her post https://www.tumblr.com/tamayula-hl/753003051986616320/june-bride

Soft used: Procreate.

Ominis Gaunt x MC (Arlene Irving) wedding theme.

[leaawrites]

Poetry Confessions

Elijah Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: writing poetry with Eli.

Wordcount: 0.9k

TW: none

A little appreciation post and a (late) happy birthday to one of my favourite irish lads, Elijah Bob Patricius Guggi Q Hewson.

Masterlist

Softly the rain outside played a melody she wanted to capture but just didn’t know how. It was such a sweet, soft sound that couldn’t be described in words. It was a echo but nothing more. Some sensual beating of natures heart. How could you capture a heartbeat?

The door creaked open and was shut close shortly after. Eli carrying in two mugs for the two of them. Both filled with the tea of their preference. The smoke of it was dancing through the air before dissolving into nothing. Cooling off.

He put them on his table before turning around to talk to the girl, who was sitting on his bed, about the song they were just about to write.

He invited her over to his after reading a bit of her poetry by what you could call rather an accident than for the reason of her offering it to him. Rob had given it to him, explaining that it was from a friend and that he should hold the papers for him while he set up his bass. The words memorized him and he could imagine a rhythm behind it. It was as if they were his own, but at the same time they weren’t. They told a story he saw himself in but he wasn’t the main character. They felt like one. Sharing a mind.

After talking to Rob about it and inviting her to a band practice before going to his home, she agreed to work with them. At first, she was mad at Rob for just handing the papers out like they were free advertisement and embarrassed that someone else besides her closest friends read her most conscious thoughts, but the lads were nice and she quickly bonded with them, which made her appreciate it a little more. Plus, she was now actively working together with people that she was convinced had a great future in front of them. For most people, you could tell if they were gonna be stars in their future at the mere age of 17, but with them, you just knew.

“What are you thinking about?” Eli asked, sitting down next to her. His eyes switched between her profile and the world outside his window. He watched the rain but to him it was a rather ordinary thing to admire.

“It’s beautiful. The rain, I mean. It’s so loud but so gentle,” she explained, turning her head to look at him. “I’ve tried writing about it, but I never really got to capture it’s beauty quite like I hoped to. It always seemed off.”

He had never heard anyone talk about nature like that - besides Bobby’s endless speeches about birds. But that - the rain and it’s magic - he understood it - not like the birds. He just sat there and watched her like he couldn’t comprehend she was real. What a mind, he thought.

“I think you can’t capture the most beautiful things in something like words or pictures. Reality is always more fascinating,” he answered, watching her to make her understand what he was referring to. Her.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she argued, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged opposite him.

Eli did the same, turning so he could look at her fully. “Then how do you explain your struggle with writing about rain?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’m just bad.”

“When you’re bad then I’m horrible. No, even worse than horrible. A total disaster,” he joked, making her laugh. “You wanna test it?”

“How?” She asked, intrigued by his offer.

“We each write one poem about something that we find semi beautiful and one thing that we are fascinated by. Then we see which one is better,” he explained his idea.

“That’s not gonna work,” she said.

“You don’t even wanna try? Party popper,” he said, looking bored at her.

She laughed at his behavior before finally agreeing to his offer. “Which one do we write first?”

“The semi beautiful,” he decided.

Getting paper and two pens, he hands her what she needs before they both think and create.

“I say, we write the other one now and then we compare them together,” she said after they both finished writing their first poem.

They kept on writing, letting their creative stream lead them where they went with their poem. Y/n noticed, how every 2 seconds, Eli would look up at her and watch her for a moment before continuing writing.

“Can you please stop looking at me?” She asked, feeling small under his gaze.

He was still writing, so when he heard her talk he quickly looked up. “Sorry, what?” He asked, still half immersed in his lines and verses. Not expecting her to voice anything while concentrating.

“I don’t like when people look at me when I write, so could you please stop that?” She asked him.

She didn’t want to be rude, but she felt uncomfortable when she knew someone was watching her while she was willing to write about something personal. It was a nagging feeling she couldn’t shake off. Some distaste she imagined reflecting in their eyes, disgust of her mind. Some sort of making fun of her while writing. She felt insecure with the knowing of eyes watching her, afraid she might fail in front of them.

“Can’t do,” he said, deciding to just shoot his shot. Now or never, right?

“Why not?” She asked, putting her pen down on her paper and looking at him.

“I have to focus on my subject while writing.”

[acewritesfics]

Mama Bear | Tommy Shelby

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nora + Bess

Request: No but @runnning-outof-time's interest kept me encouraged and motivated to write it.

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Swearing. Smoking. Threats being made. Inspector Campbell being a prick. Slight Grace bashing. Nora protecting her family and being a mama bear. Someone gets called a whore [hint: it's not Lizzie]. A six-year-old in the pub. Tommy and Nora's daughter's name in this is Elizabeth but she gets called Bess or Bessie. Also crayola crayons came out in 1903 but were invented in 1902, useless fact, I know... 

Word Count: 1,971

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

"Give Tommy and Elizabeth my love," Nora’s mother, Marion, tells her as she stands up to leave. "Hopefully I'll see you all at church on Sunday." 

"You know I can't make any promises, mother," She says also standing up. "I'll make sure to give Tommy and Bessie your love," She adds as her mum pulls her in for a hug.  

"I really wish you would stop calling your daughter Bessie," Marion sighs as she pulls away from her daughter. 

"Don't start, we had such a lovely lunch together," She frowns at her, already felling annoyed at her mothers insistence to see them on Sunday.. "And you know she prefers Bessie over Elizabeth." 

"I'll see you Sunday," Marion says ignoring what she said as she leaves the restaurant. 

"I doubt it," Nora mumbles to herself as she picks up her purse. Sunday is hers and Tommy’s day where they solely focus on there daughter. No outside family or work. It’s just the three of them and it’s been that way since Bess was born. 

As Nora goes to leave she sees someone who makes her blood boil in the worst kind of way. Walking over to him, her mind goes back to the events of the day before. Ada and Polly had taken Bessie and Finn to the park for a few hours and had been spotted by Inspector Campbell who grabbed Bessie's arm and threatened to have her removed from her's and Tommy's custody.  

When Tommy and Nora arrived home from the races, a frightened Bessie ran up to them crying about a man telling Auntie Polly and Auntie Ada that he was going to take her away from them. When Polly explained to them what happened, Nora and Tommy were about to go murder the Irish inspector. But reassuring their daughter that mummy and daddy would never let that happen was more important.  

Polly told them that she made sure he knew he was crossing a line and that she has their backs if something were to happen to him as well as threatening to cut his hands off if he touched her again. 

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise, Inspector," she plasters a fake smile on her face as she sits across from him, sipping his tea. 

He looks at her a little surprised. "Mrs Shelby, I wasn't expecting to see you here." 

"That's odd, since you've been following my family around since you've been here," she says trying to keep the venom from her voice. "I was just having lunch with my mother. I saw you on my way out and thought we could have a little chat." 

"Don't you have to get back to that criminal husband of yours?" He says seeming anxious to get rid of her.  

"Do you see a leash around my neck?" She asks him, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.  

"Why are you with a man like him?" he asks her. "He'll only get you and your daughter hurt, maybe even killed. He's bad news and you and Bessie," he ignores the glare she sends him when he mentions her daughters nickname. "Deserve better than that." 

"You see, Tommy is a lot of things, Inspector," she begins. "But he's my husband and my daughter's father, first and foremost, and if you think for a second that you can turn me against him by saying all that, you should think again," she continues, leaning in closer and pointing the fingers that are holding her cigarette at him. "And if you continue to use my daughter as leverage in whatever game you're playing with him, you won't only have Thomas Shelby to worry about." 

"Is that a threat, Mrs. Shelby?" he asks, visibly gulping. The bite in her words and fire in her eyes told the inspector she's a woman of her word and that if he didn't fear Tommy, he should certainly fear her. She was not only a woman protecting her husband but a mother protecting her cub. 

"Oh no, darling," she leans back in the chair, crossing her legs, with one arm across her stomach while the other brings her cigarette back to her lips. She takes one last drag on her cigarette before crushing it into the ashtray on the table. Uncrossing her legs, she stands up from her seat. "Think of it as a friendly promise." 

"We're not friends," he frowns up at her. 

"And we never will be with that attitude," she scoffs. "But if you would rather I threaten you," she starts, as she moves closer and leans over him. "You touch my daughter again and it'll be the last thing you ever do." 

She stands up straight and goes to step away from him when she turned back around. "And if I were you, I'd send Grace back to Ireland or to where the hell she wants to go. Would hate for something to happen to her when the other's finally see the truth about her."  

"You know about Grace?" He looks at her surprised and a little worried for the blonde 'barmaid'. "Are you worried she'll steal your husband?" 

"I know more than you think," she smiles. "If you think your blonde whore can steal my husband, you're a bigger fool than I thought. In fact you two are perfect for each other. Idiots, the both of you," she adds and pats his cheek. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Inspector."  

Leaving the restaurant, she makes her way to the Garrison. 

Nora enters the Garrison, finding only Grace behind the bar. She's leaning in close to the wall of the snug as if she's trying to listen in on whoever is in there. Nora knew it would be Tommy, Arthur and John since they were the only ones who used it. Rolling her eyes, she makes her way over to the bar.  

"You might as well have your ear against the wall," she says startling the barmaid spy. "I'll bet I can guess what you're listening in on." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grace tries to deny having being caught eavesdropping.  

"Gosh, I really hope Bess isn't giving her dad and uncles too much trouble. That girl can be a handful when she wants to be. She gets that from her Uncle John," Nora smiles, this was her way of reminding Grace of where she stood. Not only was Grace unknowingly revealing her intentions for working there, she'd taken a liking to Tommy that was a little more than him being her and Campbell's target. "She has her Uncle Arthur's temper though. But then again all the Shelby's have that temper and they can hold a grudge well too. You really wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of them."  

"Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to warn about something?" 

"I would hate for something to happen to the pretty face of yours," she says not bothering to hide her intentions in her words. 

"Look, I don't know-" she begins only to be cut off but the snug door opening and Tommy walking out.  

"Hello, Love," he greets his wife, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "How was lunch with Marion?"  

"It went well," she smiles. "She's invited us to church on Sunday. And just so you know, you missed." 

"Did I?" he asks, a small smirk making it's way on to his lips. Taking her face in his hands, he plants his lips on hers, making sure to make a show of it. "Better?" he asks when he pulls away. 

"Much better," Patting his chest, she moves past him into the snug. She's surprised to see Bessie's box of crayons and her sketchbook sitting neatly to the side. The little girl loves to draw and takes her drawing book and crayons every where she goes.  

Looking at Bessie, she notices the little girl has playing cards in her hand and a stoic look on her face as she glances at her uncles sitting across from her. 

"Please tell me you're not teaching our daughter to play cards," she says to Tommy as he stands next to her. 

"Our dad started teaching us at her age," Arthur pipes up, his eyes furrowed in concentration as he looks between his cards and Bessie.  

"Next we'll be off to the races, teaching her how to place a bet," John joins in.  

"Remind me why I married into this family again?" she says turning towards Tommy who had moved to sit back down next to Bessie. 

"Because you couldn't resist my charm," Tommy teases smiling up at her and pulling her onto his lap. "And aside from Bessie, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

"And he knocked you up." John adds, snickering behind his cards.  

"What does knocked you up mean, mummy?" the soft spoken voice of her daughter asks.  

Nora sends a deadly glare towards John. "I'll explain it when you're older." She turns back to Tommy. "We should head home. I need to talk to you." 

"Can't we talk here?" he asks.  

"I caught her trying to listen in again," she says leaning in to whisper in his ear just incase Grace was standing there with her ear pressed to the wall again. 

"I think it's time we take Bess home," Tommy announces to the room as Nora stands from his lip, picking up Bessie's crayons and book. 

"But Uncle Arthur owes me £1," Bessie whines as she drops her cards on the table. 

"I'll give it to your dad later," Arthur assures her as she shuffles off her chair.  

"She'll hold you too it," Nora warns her brother-in-law from thinking that he can get away from paying his debt to his youngest niece. She helps the six year old into her coat. 

The small family of three say their goodbyes and leave the Garrison, making their way home. 

"Is she alright?" Tommy asks as Nora's arms wrapped around him from behind. She lets out a sigh as she nuzzles her face into his back. Bessie wanted to do some drawing in her bedroom when they got home so Nora had got it all set up for her while Tommy made her some tea. 

"She's perfect," She answers not just talking about their little girls mood.  

Bessie had been born just before the war was declared and Tommy and Nora were married not long before her birth. She was two months old when Tommy and her Uncles were shipped off to France. Every time when Tommy came back on leave she'd grown so much. He'd missed all her milestones but read about it in his wife, his sister and his aunt's letters. Bessie was four when he came home after the war ended and she attached herself to him as if he'd never been gone. She's a daddy's girl and has Tommy wrapped tightly around her finger.  

After he came home, most nights he would spend in her bedroom, sitting on the floor, his back to the wall watching her sleep to remind himself he was safe and at home, that he still has something to live for when it gets too much to bare. His little girl is his guiding light. She's the one who pulls him out of the french tunnels when he finds himself back in them. When he's with her and Nora, the noises stop and visions of the dirty walls fade away. 

So yeah, she's perfect. 

"Are you alright?" He asks turning around in her arms, forgoing the tea he was making.  

"I'll be better once Campbell and Grace are gone," she says looking up into his eyes.  

"Not much longer now, my love," he tells her, leaning his head forward to press a kiss to hers. "You have my word." 

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @galactict3a

BOLD means your blog didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes it links after I post but I don't know if you get the notification or not. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

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[dwindlinghaze]

part ii : dear old shiz

(remus lupin x reader, sirius black x reader, soulmate!au)

series masterlist

contents: fluff, sirius' birthday

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

divination class isn't something you're good or bad at. that subject really depends on your luck. that being said, sitting front row across the professor's table was just pure bad luck.

through that whole day you've been racking your brain, trying to get a perfect present for sirius as for november third is just right around the corner.

you didn't know why you worry so much about getting him a present. sure you wanted to get a perfect gift for him this year but so had you the year before. you've never been this stressed about getting someone a birthday gift.

last year you had gotten him a new pair of leather shoes. the look on his face when he saw them was priceless. you don't think you can ever top that one.

sighing as you rest you cheeks in the palm of your hand, dozing off in a trance. not a single word from the professor has made its way to your ear, you were in your own little bubble of thoughts.

your bubble of thoughts was suddenly popped by a husky sound of your partner who was sitting across from you. "what's on your mind hm?" remus said, kicking your feet slightly to gain your attention.

shaking your head as you lift your face, you meet his pretty eyes that were looking at you in confusion and concern. "have you got sirius a gift yet?"

remus nodded his head slowly, saying yes.

"i don't know what to get for him. i mean- he's seventeen now- i don't know the right thing to give to a seventeen year old," you sighed.

remus smiled gently, trying to ease you by saying, "i'm sure he'll love whatever you have for him."

"i don't know that, what if he tries to be nice a fake it? i don't wanna give him something embarrassing or not suitable for him now... you know what i mean?" you asked as he drank his cup of tea, looking at you from the rim of his cup. "oh we're supposed to drink the tea?" you whispered under your breath chuckling at your own foolishness.

remus let out an airy laugh, "yeah, you weren't listening huh?"

you picked up your cup, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "sirius has been in my head."

remus' head perked up at your words, eyebrows raising.

"no no no i don't mean it like that i just-" you tried to clear your part only earning a fit of laughters from the boy. "forget it," you mumbled before taking a sip of your tea. wow does that taste bitter.

remus swirled his cup of tea, eyebrows furrowed. he seemed like he's deep in thought. "now you're the one who's thinking way to much."

he lifted his head, gesturing to his tea dregs that were in the form of a strange shape. two hands holding a heart with a crown on top of it. he has never seen anything remotely close to it before.

you let out a soft gasp, eyes twinkling at the confused boy across from you. "what's wrong? what is it? is it bad? oh my g-"

"no rem it's not bad at all!" you explained, "that's a claddagh," he seemed to be more confused so you elaborated, "a traditional irish symbol. a heart represents love, the crown stands for loyalty, and the two hands symbolises friendship."

"so... does that mean..?"

"are you into someone?" you asked out of the blue, taking him by surprise.

james seemed to heard this since he was sitting at the table behind you, he audibly gasped. "oh my gosh -" he said that a bit too loud, remus grimaced. "moony is in love?" he lowered his voice for the next part which you replied with a scoff. he was being a tad bit dramatic with his choice of words.

funnily, a certain someone appeared on remus' mind. he figured that the symbol of two clasped hands that means friendship is the friendship he has with you. he has always been there for you since second year- loyalty. but the heart though- he's still figuring that out.

with that in mind, he felt his cheeks growing hot as he looked around the room uncomfortably.

"oh i'm so sorry i shouldn't have asked like that," you apologised, shushing james away.

"ah it's fine... well i do have someone but i don't know.... love is a bit strong, isn't it?" he questioned unsurely. he has uncountably told himself that he wasn't into you. he couldn't. not when soulmates exist. he doesn't even know who his soulmate is so standing on the edge in definitely the best option.

"it is- well whoever the lad is, they are so lucky," you patted his hand.

remus felt that wave of unfamiliar feeling again. he couldn't help it- not when you're sitting there looking so supportive of him all the time. "you think so?" he asked, smiling.

you nodded, "of course. i'm so lucky to even be your friend."

remus accepted your comment, hating how easy it was for him to get flustered. he will never get used to your sweet compliments of him, though you've said those so many times before. he knew you meant it, but he didn't know how far you meant it.

to be fair, how can a person not catch feelings to another when all that person does is say affirmations of how much they appreciate him or how good of a person he is.

your compliments are platonic, he knew, but how long could you be just best friends when he looked at you for the past month like you're his soulmate?

parties held by the gryffindors are always a crowd puller. sirius and james knew what they are doing.

the whole common room has turned into a dance floor with a giant mirrorball hanging from the ceiling. the music was playing loudly along with the party people dancing to the beat of the song.

sirius' birthday has never once missed. the whole school loved that boy so everyone- not only the marauders- will always make it a day. he may not be the most down to earth person in hogwarts but he surely is smart, and funny, and caring, and friendly.

there were multiple kinds of pastries and desserts for the young and there were spiked chocolates and drinks for the older.

everyone seemed to be enjoying their time.

you found yourself struggling to find the birthday boy, head whipping side to side in search of his presence. you clutched a neatly wrapped box which was his gift from you.

"enjoying the party?" james appeared by your side, a lopsided smile plastered across his face. he had a drink in hand with what it seemed like a cherry at the bottom.

you hummed, tapping the side of the box you held, "where do i put this?"

james swiftly turned his heel the other way, pointing at a couch far away with piles of boxes and paper bags scattered all around it. "there."

you nodded, "thanks james! i'll put this there and be right back," you stepped away to make a bee line towards the place.

sirius is a lucky lad. there's probably more than twenty presents for him to open. the amount was enough to make a mountain. you placed yours in between some brown paper bags before heading back to your last spot.

"y/n! found you finally!" a booming voice came from beside you, you whirled your head instinctively. there stood sirius black dressed in his gorgeous party attire as usual.

"sirius, hi," you replied. he came closer to you to hear you better. with the small distance you can smell his cologne filling up your nose with a tint of beer.

"you look stunning," he complimented, putting you at arms length as he admired you. "blue looks flattering on you, darling."

you know he's being nice and friendly, but you couldn't keep the heat from rising up your cheeks. sirius smiled when he saw your flushed face. "you look good yourself."

sirius swayed to the music, draping an arm over your shoulder. "are you nervous about getting the mark?" you asked curiously. now that you look at him, sirius was really handsome. of course he is, everyone knows that. the bridge of his nose was perfect, his lips are upturned, his eyes were reflecting back the lights from the mirrorball.

"well not really? i don't care much about soulmates, it's a bunch of nonsense. why can't i choose who i wanna be with for the rest of my life? why do i have to get a soulmate? i don't belong to anyone," sirius said, shrugging his shoulders.

you inclined your head in agreement, "that is true, we should all have the right to choose who we want to be with," you continued, "but isn't it fun though? the idea of a pair being created by nature for each other?"

"it is fun if it's a movie or something but it's not the same when you're the one experiencing it," said the boy before he took a sip of his drink. "want some?"

you shook your head, scrunching your face. "no thanks, you should go and join james," your eyes travelled to the boy who was dancing shamelessly in the centre of the room. "go and have your fun, happy birthday by the way!" you pushed sirius into the crowd but his eyes were firmly on you.

"wait-," he stopped you, "you're so pretty you know that? you're my best friend and i'm so happy to have you... um do you wanna- go out on a date with me to hogsmeade this weekend?"

you were taken aback by his words, eyes widening in surprise. "you're drunk sirius," you shook your head.

his eyes fell, a look of disappointment on his face. "no really, i want to have a date with you."

you really wanted to go with him too, he has been nothing but a dear friend to you and maybe taking that friendship to the next level won't be so bad, but then again you think about the consequences. the possibility of making the friendship weird, the possibility that you are not meant to be.

"sirius- you'll get your mark in about twenty minutes, why don't you go out with that person?" you tried.

sirius shook his head from side to side, "i choose you over them," he said slowly, face inches away from yours.

you sighed in defeat, knowing that you couldn't say no to the boy. besides, it's his birthday party anyway, he's not much conscious, maybe tomorrow he'd forget.

"okay, fine yes," you replied. and when he smiled, you felt butterflies swarming around your stomach. he has that lovesick smile that he rarely uses.

"who hoo!" he jumped before kissing you on your cheek, leaving you dumbfounded with a red face.

god damn was he charming.

you stood there for a while, rethinking about what just happened.

"you okay there?" you heard a familiar voice.

"remus, hey," you smiled. "yes i'm fine. sirius just asked me out- on a date."

remus brows visibly shot up, forehead crinkling. "what'd you say?"

"i said yes," you answered shyly, cheeks heating yet again.

"is he your soulmate?" remus asked, that familiar sinking feeling on his gut arise.

"i don't know, he hasn't got it yet," you replied, furrowing your brows as you look at sirius, happily dancing with james.

"well have fun on your date then," remus said as he tried hard not to sound sarcastic.

"thanks," you give him your best smile. "i'm getting tired, i'm gonna go sit down. have fun remus."

november fourth was chilly. you had forgotten your scarf on your dorm resulting in you freezing from the cold air as you walked through the halls of hogwarts on the way to your first class. hugging yourself, you walked as fast as your feet can do.

out of nowhere, a soft wool was circled delicately around your neck. you look up to the person to see the one and only, sirius black. "you look cold, darling."

"won't you be cold?" you replied, unwrapping the scarf to put it around his neck instead but he held your hand in place.

"i care about you more than i care about myself," sirius shrugged, dragging you along with him to class. he wasn't aware of how much that sentence affected you.

"by the way, you're still up for the date right?" sirius asked just to make sure.

you hid half of your cheeks under his scarf- that smells so much like him- to avoid getting caught blushing. "mhm," you hummed.

sirius smiled as he looked at you. "let me see that pretty face," he pushed down the fabric slightly, revealing your crimson face. "you look cute when you are blushing."

"don't flatter yourself, i'm cold," you huffed.

"whatever you say, darling," sirius smiled smugly. the nickname sirius had for you was no good to your face.

[sirenmoth]

Hi! If you haven’t already could you do an Irish reader? I haven’t seen any Irish ones so far and I would love if you did. But take your time! Thank you!

reader is from republic of ireland which isn’t part of the UK

!can be romantic or platonic!

Irish!Reader who got selected to join the Task Force, and is disappointed by the fact there’s three Brits in it.

Soap and Irish!Reader immediately join forces, since Scotland and Ireland have very similar traditions and cultures, and definitely not to team up against the English.

Soap tells Irish!Reader about Scot’s language and in return they him some irish words ,

“Eejit means idiot, but you can also say bampot”

“Oh that’s cool, we say eejit as well”

“realy?!”

Ghost isn’t happy with the team up.

Irish!Reader gives Ghost some stuff their mother sends over, as well as the rest of the team. Saying it’s a peace offering.

Price likes asking how Irish!Reader’s family is doing, how their time back in Ireland was once everyone’s come back from leave. Loves hearing about it over some tea and a cigar in his office.

Irish!Reader shows Kyle some of their favourite shows, a little culture share, while in the background secretly giving Soap some advice on how to get Scottish independence.

“it’s gonna be rough for a while but it’s worth it”

“aye, finally free from them fuckin brits”

“What are you two muttering about?”

“Nothing!”

Football week is a nightmare on base (if you watch it) Irish!Reader supporting their team, with Soap if it's Ireland vs an English team, would be a bloodbath if it wasn't for Price. (Based off the European thing, you automatically support the other team if they’re playing against England)

Cooking with Kyle is a bit confusing, Irish!Reader calls British food an abomination which ends up in a back and forth argument,

“Why the potatoes?”

“We didn’t have them for years, we’re catching up”

“What’s the point in that? It’s just potatoes”

“What’s the point in having all those spices, seasonings and herbs you stole from the other countries and never using them, you colonialist”

“I- well that was uncalled for, lovie”

“Am I wrong though?”

St. Patrick’s Day is mostly spent with one of them trying to out drink Irish!Reader, never ends well.

Having one Scot, one Irish, and three Brits as a team maybe isn’t so bad.

[starlightandmusings]

newsies fic recs (from an english major):

no hate to those who like the 5+1 and just one bed tropes, but they're just not my cup of tea. (i have been called a hater.) instead, here are my favorite ao3 newsies fics, ones with intense originality, lyrical prose, and in-depth character studies. (;

canon era:

among the roses green by TheBarkeep. a jatherine retelling of the ballad of tam lin, featuring a gentle davey, tumultuous katherine, and poignantly-drawn jack. and, of course, whump, always. word count 66k.

Sacrifice by Efstitt. this fic is my roman empire. mayer jacobs and jack kelly have a history riddled with pain, and jack has to battle his demons to let himself be loved. oh, and the refuge has a fight club. word count 15k.

keep the earth below my feet by scarlettroses. i'm a sucker for race & jack friendship, and here, race is a prizefighter. jack is there to drag him out of trouble, forever. word count 2.6k.

tryin' to talk with a fist in ya mouth by Somanywords. jack kelly's full backstory, chronicling his grief, his darkness. featuring intense PTSD, art as a form of therapy, and emotionally charged prose. word count 15.5k.

Jack's Self Portrait in Apologies by Em_313. a different angle on jack's backstory, captured in snapshots of regret. meticulous period research in this one, as well as a whole lot of bloodstains and death. word count 3k.

cardboard crown (jack kelly, a life) by stars_and_sunflowers. this is my own take on jack's story. featuring a fight club, a debt-riddled race, and irish catholicism. in-progress, current word count 16k.

Escapes by Efstitt. jack has just broken out of sing sing, and he lands smack dab in the middle of the pulitzers' summer estate. cue savagery, a pretty heiress, and a compassionate spot conlon. word count 30k.

On the Road by Efstitt. sequel to escapes! ever more whump, this time in the context of a road trip. jatherine is endgame, and the plot is dazzlingly engaging. and, as always, brilliant characterizations. word count 56k.

Just Hold On Kid by flyinghome21. another jack kelly backstory (do you see a pattern?) flashes of years gone by; i was really captured by the way the plot moved, the highlights of what made jack tick. word count 27k.

melt your headaches, call it home by floodlights. latino jack kelly. jatherine. classism/racism, violence, startlingly lyrical prose. do i even need to SAY more. i want to eat this fic. one of my all time faves. word count almost 5k.

Best Laid Plans by TheBarkeep. ashkenazi jewish jacobs family rep! this one features a soft davey jacobs falling in love with a sex worker, jatherine sweetness, and teenagers bearing the weight of the world. word count 128k.

Jack and the Baby by tuppenny. cute one-shot told in jack's vividly unique, endearing voice -- he steals a baby in the summer of 1891. carefully researched, wonderfully executed. word count 5.6k.

of cowboys and princesses by TheBarkeep. little jack and charlie meet each other in an orphan asylum. jack is a fierce protector, charlie a wistful dreamer. this one made me cry. word count almost 3k.

honorable mention: for you are my fate, my sweet by TheBarkeep. cupid & psyche retelling featuring organized crime, meticulous period piece research, and a villain more horrific than snyder. this is one of my favorites, but i skimmed so much of it because it gets very dark. word count 149k.

(now would be a good time to get up, stretch, drink some water. will i ever stop yapping? eventually.)

modern au

No Way by Efstitt. this and the sequel have my brain in a stranglehold. foster care au ft a severely traumatized jack, charlie and jack gorilla glue familial love, stunning plot twists, horrific whump, mayer jacobs for king of the universe now and forever. this one made me cry like a baby.

Just Hold On, Kid by Efstitt. the sequel. i am getting these two as bound books by the end of the year. davey is doing an investigative report on the refuge just as jack gets sent back, and mayer won't let something like trauma or distance stop him from loving his boys. in-progress. current word count 56k.

Medda Crusade by sunkissedstar. this series is the perfect blend of fluff and angst, focusing on baby jack and his trauma in foster care, and medda showering him with mother love. series word count is 10k.

to be updated! i am currently reading Hell Is a Sober Crawl by glitter_ink, rereading for you are my fate, my sweet (TheBarkeep), and beginning Five (stress), all of which came highly recommended. thanks for coming to my ted talk enjoy <3

[blu3-ja3]

Doctor Maevis "Maeve" O'Connor is a tall well built woman. She has to be in order to keep up with those boys when out on ops, carrying around a pack full of medical supplies like it's nothing. Roach and Soap can attest it's not something to scoff at (Ghost thought running some laps while carrying it would be a good punishment, a story for later).

Her ginger hair has a smattering of white and silver throughout, it's almost always tied up into a tight bun. But on the rare occasion that Soap or Gaz miss playing with their sisters' hair, it's long and wavy. She has bushie eyebrows and long lashes but they're almost non-existent in the right light.

She has a broad nose and thin lips. Her skin is pale, slightly wrinkled, and easily sunburnt (Price jokes she could sit in a room with a too bright bulb and she's likely to burn) it's littered with millions of tiny freckles that are seemingly endless. She has a faint scar above her left eye that disappears into her hair line, another more obvious burn scar that creeps out of her turtle neck uniform and licks up her jaw, cheek, and ear. It peaks out from her long sleeve as well not nearly as dark and angry but still there on her right hand.

Her nails are short and painted whatever color the trio of Sargents pick out. She states that she's a mother first, a doctor second, and a captain third. She has told Price and Laswell that she was never interested in her rank, sometimes even hating it. But she's fine so long as she can help get everyone back in one piece.

They all notice when Doc is very tired she slips hard into her Irish accent and slips a few words of Gaelic when excited. MacTavish and her enjoy confusing the rest of the team by having full conversations in their native tongue. Soap likes fucking with Ghost in particular.

O'Connor is quick to give motherly advice and even a hug while needed. She surprised Ghost one night when he was having a rough time sleeping, she simply appeared holding a mug of tea and a cigarette. They just stood there in silence for a while. Once he'd finished his tea she walked him to his room, she still said nothing as she gently pulled him into a hug and lightly kissed his forehead over his balaclava. He slept well that night, never expecting such motherly affection to be directed at himself.

Gaz enjoyed baking with her and recounting stories about his family, mostly of his brother and sister. O'Connor enjoys hearing the brit recount childhood and see how he became such a big brother figure amongst the three Sargents.

O'Connor would often challenge Soap to a game of chess, knowing how bright the boy was. She knew if he wasn't doing something that required both his brain and his hands he'd end up in her office with new scrapes and scratches. He's taken up keeping track of how often he wins or loses. So far he's on a losing streak.

It took her a while to find something to keep Roach from doing something out of boredom that would land him in her office. But one rainy evening she found a box on the outside of the compound with a puppy inside. Bringing it back Roach was immediately enthralled, promising to take care of the puppy. If you're looking for Roach look for the barking and you'll find the Sargent.

She keeps Price sain by keeping his boys sain and alive. They seem to have a knack for getting into dangerous situations that aren't a part of their normal plans. But she's quick to react when time allows, going full mother hen and patching them up. She talks them down from stupid impulses also. O'Connor is a second pair of ears and eyes for Price to confirm with that yes they are seeing/hearing this it's not a hallucination.

O'Connor noticed rather quickly when certain people walked with limps and had created a little one stop drawer for them; lube, condoms, simple pain relief, and numbing cream. She doesn't ask when one of them slips into her office and goes straight to the drawer. She just files it away to check later and restocks.

She also notices the near constant smell of tobacco and after a long seminar on the dangers of tobacco she gave them alternatives. For oral fixes nicotine gum and herbal cigs, for the sometimes needed kick patches and candied ginger and licorice root. And on the rare occasion those don't work then a real smoke was fine. She does everything in her power to make sure that they are taken care of, even if it's nearly impossible at times. And when they come back hurting physically or mentally she tries her best to soothe that hurt.

She learns their favorite treats and makes them on their birthday or special occasions. She does what a mother can, what a doctor can when in the lines of fire and combat. Only pulling rank when one of the 141 doesn't listen, but eventually they trust her advice. They keep habits but exchange them for safer ones. And when the impulsive decisions are made she's there to scold and tend to their injuries.

Doc was an obvious nickname, same with Price calling her Maeve. The one that surprised her was when a new kid called her Hen. None of the Sargents tell her who started. She eventually finds out Ghost is the one who started it, referring to her being a "Bloody Mother Hen" she takes pride in that.

One night after the boys return from Las Almas and the rapid chaos after she finds Soap struggling. She is immediately at his side, soothing and comforting the man like he's a scared child. But never in a way to degrade him, only to comfort only in a way a mother can. Stroking his hair and humming. Once exhaustion finally took hold, O'Connor led Soap back to his barracks and got him into bed, she stood to leave when a hand grabbed her wrist stopping her, "Thanks Mom". For weeks she told herself he said ma'am, his accent thicker when tired. It bugs her but she keeps it to herself choosing not to dwell.

Another day she finds Roach pacing, a frantic look on his eyes, she takes him for a walk around base. Let him speak about surviving being shot and burned alive. She falls into her role, soothing and comforting. Eventually they move into the mess and separate ways "Thanks Mom". It shocks her and for a few days she convinced herself she's heard it wrong.

Gaz calls her the name after a particularly nasty head that keeps her up monitoring for nights on end. She chalks it up to just the injury and says nothing about it until he calls her the name again after tending to a slight burn on his hand. It throws her for days stirring millions of thoughts and emotions.

They start calling her Mom after she scolds them or comforts them, she tells them to stop but can't hide the smile on her face. It's only the Sargents for a bit calling her the name, Price calls her the name as a joke when a Sargents asks for something. "Go ask Mom, she'll tell you yes or no." It warms a part of her soul that had long been cold and tired.

When Ghost calls her mom it was after scolding him like a child, not because he disobeyed orders but because he got shot twice in the process nothing serious but enough for her to jump when he reappeared holding his shoulder. She got to him before Price and ran him through, the Sargents were hiding behind Price. It's not often they see the Doctor so angry while patching someone up. She kept her venom flowing as she finished her work. She stood up and leveled a lethal glare at Ghost before turning to go to the front of the boening "Sorry Mom." The tension was suffocating and no one said anything to Doc for the rest of the ride. Even Price stayed out of the way once they landed.

Price finds her in the training room beating the hanging sand bag until Price was certain her knuckles were bruised. When the Lieutenant walked in and over towards the pit, Price almost dragged the man out but he knew this was the closest thing Ghost has to an apology. So he steps back and lets the two figure things out. Price keeps the Sargents out. So when the two finally leave the room without anymore scraps or bruises, Price was pleased to say the least.

She cares for like they're her own because in a way they are her's. They're safety above everything if it can be helped and she tries damn hard about just that. Because Maevis O'Connor refuses to lose any more if she can help it.

[ninyard]

Came here from your in universe tweets posts and have just realised you're also Irish.

What are your thoughts on Kevin Day seeming so American through and through? I personally wish Nora had given him an accent or something seeing as he was raised by his Irish single mam. Like I kinda wish there had been some cultural differences there even if it was done badly.

However I think Nora was very on point with the fact that if somebody was going to make a very violent stickball sport it would be an Irish person.

I don't know anybody IRL who's read aftg and I would love to hear somebody else's thoughts on Kevin's Irish heritage lol

I wrote these silly little hcs about Kevin’s childhood in Ireland but a lot of that is kind of dependent on Kevin having had more of a childhood in Ireland (which I don’t think happened but I haven’t got a clue what the timeline of Kayleigh being in Ireland to Kevin being born is tbh)

Personally I wish Kev was a little more Irish and I also think the Irish mammy thing would’ve had a HUGE influence on him (again depending how old he was when she died). She would’ve been his best friend if he’d grown up with her. Also the internalising of his problems is VERY typical of an Irish man but I’d like to imagine Kayleigh tried to break the cycle of that mentality in sons/first born sons and it was destroyed by the Moriyama’s.

Things I would maybe like Kevin to have/do:

- just a little bit of an accent. On certain words, or if he’s drunk or tired, or if he’s speaking with an Irish person, his accent QUADRUPLES in intensity.

- burns in the sun SO EASILY but also wears shorts when it’s barely even hot at all

- he drinks tea when it’s cold because it’s comforting and it reminds him of his mam. It’s the one indulgence he allows himself because she took her tea sweet so he heaps two teaspoons in when he feels like he needs a hug

- I’ve mentioned it before somewhere but I believe that Kayleigh was from the west, from a gaeltacht area and spoke fluent Irish, and raised Kevin to be bilingual until she passed, and he never continued and honestly probably forgot it. He remembers little words here and there but really not much at all.

- right after he graduates he spends an entire summer in Ireland before he starts with his pro team. It’s a silly decision for his exy career really because he could use all of the professional practice he can get, but he needs it. He goes back to Ireland and visits all of these places he doesn’t remember, the places where Kayleigh grew up and took kev when he was a baby. Maybe his grandparents are still alive, and his grandfather plays hurling with him, and they speak to him in Irish, and he spends the summer learning and just relaxing and reconnecting with his roots. Maybe his grandmother has a box of Kayleigh’s old things and for the first time in his life he holds something belonging to his mam other than his letter. Her jersey with her original IRE National Court number on it from the Olympics just a few years before she died, and some photos he’d never seen before. I’d really love for him to just be able to know his mam better somehow. I feel like he deserves it!!!

(He comes back with the most obnoxious Irish American accent after that summer and he gets ROASTED for it. But he doesn’t care, because he feels so much closer to his mam having spent that much time at home)

I am CERTAIN that Kayleigh was inspired to create Exy by watching hurling. There’s no way she wasn’t. Exy is the bastard sport of lacrosse, hockey AND hurling.

[crazylittlejester]

Tbh I think you’re cooking with the voice headcanons. I’ve never heard Warriors or Legend’s voice described like that but like…yes, you’re correct

(also how would you describe the rest of the chain members’ voices? Now I’m kinda curious…)

THANK YOU, BECAUSE I FELT CRAZY TYPING THAT POST OUT. Here’s how the rest of the chain sounds in my head (im insane):

Time: Matthew Mercer specifically as Resident Evil 6 Leon Kennedy, but if his accent shifted somewhere between Welsh and the southern American accent, and usually ended up sounding like that transatlantic accent. The more time he spends away from the ranch and Malon the less the occasional really American sounding word slips in

Warriors: Joe Keery if he was British and had the same inflections and overall whiny dramatic way of speaking that Astarion from bg3 does. Like the same tone and pitch as Joe Keery (specifically as Steve from Stranger Things), but with Astarion’s sass, one liners, and overall cuntiness. (His real accent is NOT British to me, but he copies the ‘Castle Town Accent’ so usually, that is what he sounds like)

Twilight: Jeremy Jordan, but with a thick southern American accent. I mean near incomprehensible when he starts talking fast

Sky: Jordan Fisher, make him British, but make that British very weird in a way that makes it sound more like his native language is something far more ancient that came BEFORE British English

Hyrule: Ryan Potter, specifically as Hiro from Big Hero 6, but with a vaguely French sounding accent, almost as if that’s his native language but he hasn’t spoken it in a VERY long time and he can sound British for the most part but occasionally he says One Word and everyone stares at him like “???”

Legend: Chris Colfer from Glee but if he had the same raspiness to his voice that Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist does, and also if he were British (it’s a fake accent that Legend puts on, his real accent is a thick Irish one, but most of the time he speaks in a British accent)

Wild: Wild is weird because I have yet to come across a single person in any media I’ve consumed whose voice I’ve heard that’s made me go “That’s Wild.” So, to be even more insane, I’ll just describe what he sounds like. His voice isn’t necessarily very high, but it’s dropped as low as it’s going to and it’s very androgynous sounding. That being said, it’s hard to make out the actual tone and pitch of his voice some times because it sounds incredibly raspy and he can absolutely lose his voice if he talks for too long or screams too loud. If he takes proper care of it which he doesn’t always do it CAN sound more full and not as crackly, but there’s now always this element to it where it SOUNDS damaged. That doesn’t stop him from yapping, or singing, or screaming. It just makes Twilight roll his eyes at him while he makes him tea

Four: Zeno Robinson specifically as Hunter from The Owl House, but if Hunter was fighting to keep back a thick Boston accent every single day of his life. You piss Four off and that accent comes off as he starts angrily rambling at the others for improper sword care and they just sit there and stare at him blankly because they can barely understand a word he’s saying, he’s talking so fast. He sounds vaguely midwestern American when he’s trying to hide his accent

Wind: I’m not even close to original for this one and every time I see people talk about voice headcanons for the chain everyone says this for Wind, but Walker Scobell, though for me, SPECIFICALLY Kraft Mac and Cheese era Walker Scobell. And Wind’s accent is ALL over the place, he tends to pick up whatever the people around him sound like. Growing up his native language was the hyrule equivalent to Spanish, and then he was surrounded by a ton of Scottish people for a VERY long time so his ‘English’ (whatever language they speak in hyrule) became very Scottish sounding, but the more time he spends with the chain, the more he slowly starts to sound like a blend of all of them. So sometimes he’ll be talking and one word of his sentence will sound EXACTLY like the very unique way in which Time says something, or one word will sound like Sky. And his Scottish sounding (because it’s never been entirely Scottish) accent is slowly losing its strength as it starts to LITERALLY just become a blend of what the chain in general sounds like

And to an extent, the overall group accent does change a bit as they spend time together. Their individual accents, even if a lot of them are British, are all different because of the eras they’re from, but as they spend so much time together the accents start to blend a little and they sound more like each other. Of course if they were consciously thinking about how they sound while they speak they’d be able to talk exactly how they did before, and when they go back to their own eras the only one who’s going to sound noticeably different is probably Wind because his neurodivergent brain just copies whatever is around him and he’ll need time to adjust, but yeah

Those are my voice headcanons!! This is what they sound like in my brain when I’m writing/reading. I’m weird and this is insane, I’m aware aldkmdkd

[the---hermit]

19|09|2023

I am fully back into my studying routine, and it's going smoothly so far. I was a bit intimidated at first because I was afraid I would stuggle after these months of rest, but honestly everything is coming very naturally. I am still paying very close attention to give myself time to get used to it again, so I take all the breaks I need even if I just need to get up and walk around the room for a couple of minutes, but I feel good about being back into the routine. It doesn't feel like a trap, it's just my comfortable productive habits. Today I continued working on the recorded lectures of last semester, I check the exam dates and for some reason the exam for this class will be later than expected. It will be in January, but honestly it's fine so I'll have time to do everything and study for a couple other classes in the meantime. I never realized how much I took for granted ppt presentations during lectures, because this class has only audio recordings and I am wasting so much time stopping and replaying things because I am not sure about dates or names. Despite this, which will surely make my progress a bit slower, I am liking the class. It's definitely more challenging than I was expecting but it's very interesting. Also an highlight of the day was my dad bringing me a cup of tea because he didn't see me in the kitchen at the usual time since I was working. I am a creature of habit and my day is indeed divided by my tea times.

cozy hobbit autumn activities and productivity:

6 am morning routine my beloved (I love I went back to this as days are getting shorter because waking up while the sun isn't up yet is one of my favourite things in the world. I don't know why it gives me internal peace)

read first thing in the morning while sipping my waking up tea (aka a blend of green tea and mint)

checked infos I needed on some classes

read and answered emails

worked on two lectures of my theories of men and power practices in the modern era class

polished my notes adding highlights and key words

had an amazing second breakfast (it's a hobbit list of course I am including this)

wrote a couple of book reviews I will post soon

really got to relax my brain during my lunch break so when I got back to work in the afternoon I was super energized

daily Irish review on duolingo

wrote my to do list for tomorrow

continued working on my crochet mushroom cardigan while catching up with podcasts (this time it was book unbound and re:dracula)

📖: Of Ghosts And Goblins by Lafcadio Hearn