#wedding cake examples

[monty-glasses-roxy]

The Ruined pizzaplex is steeped in death and disrepair, it’s almost to the point that when the others are finally Meteor-ed, they don’t even know if they’ll survive escaping the damn place. None of them know, it’s a death trap. I don’t even think some of them expected to live for long after they escaped

But then they do, and they’re in a completely unfamiliar world that’s saturated with life and it’s unlike anything they’ve ever been exposed to before. Fazent always carried that touch of death, yknow? They never knew any different.

But then they claw their way into the light and someone is wrapping a blanket around their shoulders and giving them a bottle of water and asking if they’re ok because they must’ve just been Changed, they look so disoriented, and they don’t know what to do.

But they have each other, they’re *alive* again. The scars will never go away, but they have each other, and they desperately hope that’s enough.

YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE-

Fsdfsdf nah though you're on the right lines with this... may I offer...

The Plex is dead. It's stagnant, forever unchanging and is left to rot like all the other bodies under the floorboards. Those that remain are rotting and hurt, discarded like broken and unwanted toys and abandoned in the ruins of what is the only world, the only home they've ever known.

... But it's not dead.

How can it be? They're still there. They're still alive.

And like a phoenix rising from the ashes, they'll realise that for themselves and start laying the kindle for their fire.

[ltwilliammowett]

Cooking like a Sailor- Frisian teatime

Today it's going to be a bit Friesian again and this time the delicious treats come mainly from the North Sea islands and Halligen, where they usually originated before they floated ashore and were eaten or drunk there.

Now that we are approaching autumn with great strides, there are such delicacies. This was the time when many of the seafaring men returned home, which meant a rich harvest of specialities from foreign countries and often also the weddings were hold which were arranged the year before.

But let's start with the drink: tea punch, just the thing for the wet and cold season when it's stormy and raining outside.

Ingredients: Black tea, köm and kluntjes (brown sugar candy).

But even more important than the right ingredients are the way it is prepared and consumed. If you are in a hurry, you have no place at the tea punch table!

The tea punch is served as follows: The teapot is placed on the teapot warmer and the pre-heated bottle of Köm is placed on the table. Don't be surprised: the tea punch cups are tiny. This has nothing to do with stinginess, but with cosiness. And this is how it works: Pour tea into the cup, add a dash of köm and sugar to taste. Listen to the Kluntjes crack, stir and drink hot. Have a chat and then top up again.

This drink has existed on the islands since 1735, when a ship with tea chests stranded off Amrum at Theeknobs, although at the beginning there was no knowledge of how to prepare the tea leaves. As a result, the tea was drunk quite thinly, which was also due to the fact that tea was something special that was not always available, just like schnapps. Köm is a spirit similar to aquavit with caraway seeds. The yellow (geele) Köm is particularly common in the North Frisian region. This is a spirit, usually made with grain, which is mixed with caraway and sometimes with a hint of aniseed.

The tea punch was of course also known on ships, but here the köm was swapped for rum and the punch was used to warm up rather than for chatting. Sailors preferred to do this on land.

What do you serve with tea? Hallig Knorken or Friesenwaffeln are best. This wafer-thin delicacy has been around since the 16th century thanks to the Dutch who settled in northern Germany. They were light waffles that were made with rum and then served with plum jam and cream. Again, these delicacies were either brought by the men or had to be bartered or bought on the land, as the islands and Halligen did not have huge areas of land available for agriculture and so there was a lot of trade with the delicacies from the sea.

Ingredients for 4 people (this is the modern recipe) 4 eggs 200g sugar 250g butter 300g flour 3-4 tsp. cornflour 50ml rum 1 packet of vanilla sugar 1 pinch of salt

Bake the waffles in an iron and then serve hot with plum jam and cream.

Now we come to the highlight of every festive table - the Friesentorte. This magnificent cake is truly a precious piece. Because it requires valuable ingredients that were not always available back then and were therefore more likely to be found on festive tables. It is not known when it has been around, but probably since the 19th century, thanks to the sailors who brought many recipes with them from other countries. Like puff pastry, for example.

Today's variations also work with shortcrust pastry, but are not the original recipe

Recipe

Bake two puff pastry bases (you can use ready-made pastry) Brush one of the bases (the top) with egg yolk and sprinkle with caster sugar Leave the second (base) plain After baking, spread the base generously with plum jam Spread not too little whipped cream on the plum jam base Cut the top into 12 even pieces and then arrange the pieces on top.

The wealthier the family the more the cake would consist of several layers. Which made eating even more complicated, because how do you eat this monster without smearing cream all over your face? Well, you take the lid off, eat the inside and nibble the lid separately.

So there you have it and I wish you a delicious tea time of a different kind. Enjoy your tea and your tasty treats like real Frisians.

[wonysugar]

babydaddy jang wonyoung

now where do i even start with this…?? so much to unpack here

tags: lactation kink, breeding kink(?), g!p wonyoung, reader is a few months pregnant, the baby isn’t born yet this is simply wony shenanigans before that human being is fully formed!

wedding was lovely, cake was delectable, WIFE WAS PRETTY?? you were thriving

and luckily for you, on the honeymoon she just went batshit crazy on you, no really, she did! first 5 minutes upon walking into the hotel room and she was already deep inside you, fucking you ass up as she moaned out your name with pride,,, also making you uncover your mouth to hear every single one of your sounds coming out of your mouth, in unison with hers, lowkey wanting to show off to everyone in the other rooms that she was making you feel soooo good? she’s fucking her wife better than they ever would theirs, cause she’s… she’s rather competitive, you see! yes it made you rather shy, but it never hurt to step out of your comfort zone every once in a while!!

hence why, being married to wonyoung for over two years now, you’ve allowed yourself to be more open to things and experiment a lot more with her, you did things you wouldn’t necessarily do with her when you guys were dating,, for example, cockwarming! aheheh naturally

like… walking in on her doing her cute girly makeup in your guys’ room and then randomly asking her if you can sit on her cock later?? oh she gets hard on the spot i fear… and you obviously notice it and giggle to yourself; it’s poking right out of her skirt, how could you not notice it?

obviously, intrigued by the ideas you get and willing to do anything to please you, she always accepts. so, obviously, the cockwarming wasn’t an exception.

watching a horror movie on the couch and casually sitting on her hard cock, nonchalantly focused on the tv as if you weren’t literally SITTING ON HER? anywho, you were doing okay, just having a fun time and enjoying the film! she, on the other hand, was fighting only god knows what as she desperately tried not to grab you by the sides and just mindlessly pound into you. the way your walls clenched onto her whenever she moved around a tiny bit?? she was LOSING ITTT i tell you,,, so when a random jumpscare startled the both of you and caused you to jump, it was really hard to keep it in. ESPECIALLY with all of the thoughts she was getting of filling you up right then and there,,, not caring about the consequences,,

so she didn’t!! lol

if you asked her about it now, she’d cover her burning face and call it embarrassing, but yes; feeling you move around on her dick at that moment made her feel so good that she just couldn’t hold it in, she shot her load inside you.

it’s important to note that she was NOT wearing a condom! i mean, why would she?? you thought she was gonna be able to keep it together, you’re just watching a movie, after all! so why would she wear a condom for this?? you laughed it off and properly fucked her as an apology that day afterwards lol everything was fine and dandy

until the answer to that question came back up to you about three weeks later!!

womp womp guess tf what bitch!! you’re pregnant with jang wonyoung’s baby

“…what?” she stared at you blankly, still trying to process the crucial piece of information you just dropped on her on a random tuesday morning.

you sighed, trying to hide your nervousness, “that’s what the test says—“

“baby what do you mean you’re pregnant???”

now what?? no genuinely.. wonyoung’s panicking, you’re panicking, what the fuck were you supposed to do? were you guys even ready to have a child?? you had to worry about that just cause of a silly idea you had originally, you didn’t think it would end up this bad????

but turns out that it actually WASN’T as bad! considering you guys had enough money, a house in a safe environment, it was gonna work out. plus, it’s not like your sex life deteriorated. quite the opposite in fact, considering she… for some reason… found you so much sexier a few months into your pregnancy?

oh don’t get her wrong she’s always found you hot as all hell all throughout your relationship, but pregnant??? that turned on a switch she didn’t even know existed. watching you take off your tanktop before getting into bed led her to secretly thinking about all sorts of things, things you’d do to her, things she’d to you. lots of things!

until it wasn’t so secret anymore.

“my love, what do you think breast milk tastes like?”

you almost choke on your glass of water, furrowing your eyebrows at her, “…what??? i— i don’t know?” you laughed, before joking, “if you’re really that curious, you could always try and see for yourself, wonyoung.”

she didn’t take that as a joke, and you knew that.

the way her cock went rigid to the mere thought told you everything you needed to know.

so! being the amazing wife that you are, you let her try it. you let her suck on your tits during sex until milk leaked from her mouth. it was a cute request, so how could you say no to that? especially with how excited she seemed.

giving you hickeys everywhere around your neck and collarbone, eventually going down to your chest which has been restricted territory for a while, until now, of course. her tongue impatiently roaming around your tits, you could feel her slightly poking at your leg. it was adorable.

she got so into it, she’d nod eagerly whenever you said something similar to “does my pretty princess want mommy’s milk? hm?” looking up at you with desperate eyes as she whined against your soft skin.

and so she’d pull away from your chest minutes later, your milk coating her lips and slightly leaking from her mouth; what a sight. it got you so inexplicably turned on that you couldn’t keep waiting, you just had to ride her.

“c-come on baby, put another baby inside me, yeah?” was what’d you say as she moaned and grunted your name! :]

[colorfulbard]

Sacrifice

‿��‿꒰͜͡ ♡ ͜͡꒱‿︵‿︵‿︵‿꒰͜͡ ♡ ͜͡꒱‿︵‿︵‿︵‿꒰͜͡ ♡ ͜͡꒱‿︵‿

Summary♥︎ A forced visit to Whole Cake Island takes a turn for the worst when Big Mom is experiencing hunger pangs while Katakuri is away on a mission.

Pairing♥︎ Katakuri x Fem!Reader

warnings♥︎ Reader has kids with Katakuri, angst at the end

a/n♥︎ I've been starving for some more Katakuri fics so I had to take matters into my own hands. I put that warning because I know some people don't like reading fanfic where the reader has kids. Don't worry there will be a part 2!

‿︵‿꒰͜͡ ♡ ͜͡꒱‿︵‿︵‿︵‿꒰͜͡ ♡ ͜͡꒱‿︵‿︵‿︵‿꒰͜͡ ♡ ͜͡꒱‿︵‿

People always say, "practice makes perfect". That means, the more you do something, the better you'll be. Like baking, for example. If you practice making the same for over twenty years, you would be considered an expert. You might even be running through the steps on autopilot.

But, no matter how many times you've dealt with this scenario, it never became easier. Honestly, it felt harder to deal with each time.

An easy going saying like, "practice makes perfect", doesn't apply when dealing with a tyrannical emperor with deadly hunger pangs.

The steps taken when it began never changed. All high ranking officials were to report to the surveillance room, turn on the video snails, and give orders to anyone available at the Chateau.

Those down at the Chateau were to remain clear of Big Mom and evacuate any and all innocent citizens.

After many, many years, those steps were done in no time at all. And yet, the sick feeling of fear in your stomach never subsided. Your hands were pinned under your arms to keep from biting your nails. Too bad that didn't stop you from biting your lip instead.

You truly hated traveling to the main island for this reason. You longed for your home, back at Komugi island. The one you shared with your husband, Katakuri, and your fifteen children. Peace and quiet may be impossible to come by, but dealing with a child's temper tantrum was preferable to Big Mom's.

Having to deal with this on your own only made your bitter feelings towards the Whole Cake Chateau grow. The initial plan was to travel together, you and Katakuri. He knew how nervous being alone with his mother made you. But those plans were squandered when Big Mom ordered all ministers gather ingredients for her blasted wedding cake. Then, to make matters worse, he was called away on another mission.

Now, because of that string of unfortunate events, he somehow convinced you to bring your two oldest sons with you, Warabiko and Manju. For some reason, you had said yes. Probably just to ease his mind. In return, your mind was not at ease. It was filled to the brim with anxiety.

You took a slow, deep breath. "And we're sure it's not possible to catch the croquembouche that checked out this morning?" You asked slowly to keep your voice steady.

"It doesn't seem plausible. Either way it'd be a half hour."

You wanted to open your mouth to argue, but it was too difficult. The screams of the terrified homies made it impossible to focus. Those screams were keeping you in a continuous state of unease. You couldn't be selfish and mute the video feed. It was imperative for everyone to hear what was happening.

Big Mom was getting further away from the current video snail. It was time to play the waiting game and see when the feed would switch. You looked down at the floor for a moment of respite from staring at the rampaging Emperor.

You clenched your eyes shut. The screams were distant now, but you could still hear them. Your mind unwillingly imagined it as your sons. You knew they were somewhere safe, away from harm. You made sure of that before you reported to the surveillance room. Even so, as the screams continued, your mind took you the worst possible scenario.

You let your head tilt down to face the floor. At least then, if you somehow managed to open your eyes, you wouldn't be facing the screen.

'Kata... Please, come back to me soon..' Tears began to form behind your eyelids when you thought of him. You needed him to be here.

A hand softly landed on your shoulder in an attempt to not startle you. You took that as a nonverbal sign that the video feed switched. You glanced over your shoulder to see Tamago's hand, but he wasn't looking at you. His eyes were locked onto the screen, his mouth agape.

Your brows furrowed, he always seemed much more coolheaded than you in these scenarios, so, why did he look so spooked? Before checking the footage, you glanced at everyone in the room. Their expression matched Tamago's. The air in the room was tense, as if your anxiety had seeped out of your body and infected everyone else.

You finally looked towards the screen. The scene was the same except Big Mom was getting further away. Homies were still trampled and distant screams could be heard as she trampled over more. But you didn't even notice any of those things.

When you spotted what everyone else was staring at, you froze. Your muscles were locked.

Right there, where Big Mom was stomping through moments ago, stood your eldest son. You couldn't see his face, his back was facing away from the snail. He held onto his sword tightly. It was a gift from you and Katakuri on his eighteenth birthday.

Your hand moved on its own to cover your mouth in shock, the other moved to your stomach. Were you breathing? You couldn't feel anything.

Your head shook from side to side. "No." You whimpered.

Static flickered through the screen and then showed an enraged Big Mom rampaging. You breathing hitched when the sight of your son was gone. The silent scene of your son's determination was replaced by helpless homies getting eaten or stomped on.

Every second that was wasted staring, your son was getting closer to Big Mom. Without wasting anymore time, you pushed Tamago's hand from your shoulder and ran out of the room.

The state of the room remained the same as you left. Everyone stayed silent as they continued watching the footage. Too anxious to see what might happen next.

~

When Warabiko finally reached Big Mom, he was horrified. All of citizens of Whole Cake were terrified, running for their lives lest they be squashed under her heel. He had never seen this happen. He now understood why his family's trips to Whole Cake never lasted more than a day.

He remembered that whenever a tea party was held for one his newest siblings, you demanded to leave as soon as it was over. No matter how much his siblings whined about being tired and wanting to sleep on land, you put your foot down. This was his first time being here for over a day, much to your chagrin.

When he grew older and more mature, you told him stories of his grandmother's famous hunger pangs. The stories were short and brief. He could tell you didn't like talking about them. He finally understood why as he watched Big Mom rampage with reckless abandon.

Something in his gut told him to turn back now and hide with his brother. He ignored that feeling. He couldn't stand by and do nothing. With his father away on a mission, the duty of evacuating citizens and calming Big Mom fell on his shoulders. He was going to make his father proud.

Fighting her was out of question, but he could try and reason with her. She had to be willing to listen to his first grandchild, right?

Her path of destruction was never-ending as he got closer to her. He had to be careful. It was clear that when she's this hungry, all of her sense was gone. She didn't care who or what was in her way during her search.

It didn't even matter if it was an innocent little girl. She hadn't even tripped over the rubble, she had tripped over her feet trying to keep up with her mother. The mother hadn't even noticed, too terrified to look back.

The girl shakily stood on her feet and rubbed the debris from her knees. Her heard swayed from side to side to try and spot her mother. She had no idea Big Mom's foot was inches away from crushing her.

Warabiko immediately lunged towards Big Mom's feet and grabbed the girl. He landed on his feet and placed the girl on the ground.

The girl looked up and smiled up at her savior. "Thank you so much!" She cheered, "that was fun!"

She acted like she wasn't just moments away from being killed. Warabiko smothered his feeling of shock down and sighed. "Run away from her and find your mother. It's not safe," he instructed.

The girl nodded with a giggle and ran off, far from Big Mom.

Whilst Warabiko had dealt with the girl, Big Mom had busied herself with eating any homie or building in her way. Her anger grew as each thing she shoved down her throat tasted nothing like her craving.

"Where is it?!" She whined, "where is my croquembouche?!" She punched another building. Nothing but croquembouche could placate her.

"Mama, please! You just have to wait! The chefs will be here soon!"

Warabiko recognized the voice as one of his uncle's, Mont-d'Or. Another one of his uncle's and aunt led citizens away in the opposite direction.

Nothing Mont-d'Or said got through her to her. He was too far away for her to care. Warabiko's jaw clenched and he ran to stand in front of her, arms out. "Grandma, please! You have to stop!" He pleaded.

Big Mom paused and locked eyes with the source of the sound. She snarled and clenched her fist, "who's there?" She questioned.

Warabiko's brows furrowed and he could feel himself grow warm. "I-It's me! Grandma, it's Warabiko!" His voice grew higher in pitch, his hands began to shake, "don't you recognize me?" The question was practically a whisper.

Big Mom growled and swung at where he stood. Warabiko was able to dodge, but not without losing his footing. He fell onto scattered rubble and grunted when it dug into his back.

Mont-d'Or's mouth was open wide in shock the moment he saw Warabiko enter the fray. "M-Mama! Wait!" He pleaded, coming closer. "You have to stop! It's Warabiko! Your grandson!"

Big Mom paid Mont-d'Or's pleading no mind. She was still infuriated that her search for croquembouche was interrupted. "Where is my croquembouche boy?!" She demanded. "All I want is my croquembouche!" She swung at the building next to Warabiko and ate the contents she managed to grab.

The remnants of her snack flew all around. Warabiko turned over on his side and cradled his head. He could hear it land all around him.

Mont-d'Or clenched his jaw as he watched Warabiko cradle himself. He couldn't go over there and try to save him, he'd end up dying too. He just hoped Warabiko was a fast runner.

"Warabiko, you have to run! You can't reason with when she's like this!" He yelled.

Warabiko lifted his head and looked towards his uncle. Judging by the way Mont-d'Or stared at him, he was sure his terror was plain as day. He couldn't move thanks to that terror gripping his muscles. It was affecting his brain, not allowing him to choose between fight or flight. Maybe Big Mom wouldn't pay him any mind if he stayed silent.

She was still there, right behind him. Warabiko didn't have to turn his head to know that. He could practically feel her breathing down his neck. The only part of his body that managed to move was his spine as shivers went down it. She wasn't moving away from him. Her gaze was burning into his back.

Big Mom's breathing grew stronger and he could smell the sweets emanating from it.

Warabiko somehow willed his head to move back to look at his grandmother. His next breath was caught in his throat when he locked eyes with her.

Her scowl was gone. In its place was a sickening grin. Her eyes were unrecognizable, they were glazed over and crazed. Drool was dripping down her chin and she stared at him.

She leaned closer to his face. "Life..." She whispered, giggling like a mad woman, "or treat?"

Warabiko couldn't answer even if he wanted to. The words were caught in his throat, choking him. He could only watch as his grandmother raised her first high in the air.

He knew what his grandmother's fruit was capable of, his father had told him. His father had probably hoped he would take it as a warning to stay away. Too bad he didn't listen.

Everything began to slow down. His mother's first was taking minutes to reach him and Mont-d'Or's yelling was indistinguishable. Typically, these were the moments where one's life would flash before their eyes. Oddly enough, that didn't happen. He only saw one thing. It was you. His sweet mother, smiling down at him. Your eyes crinkled as you smiled. They were the same color as his own. That was the only feature you two shared.

From his point of view, he could see his hands attempt to grab your face. They were so small here. He must've been a baby. This was a memory he didn't even realize he had.

You were giggling at his futile attempts. You brushed his cheek with your finger and began to sing.

La la lu

La la lu

Oh, my little star sweeper

Your voice was so soft and sweet. His eyes began to droop as your singing lulled him to sleep. The warmth of your arms was seeping through the soft blanket touching his skin. He recognized the blanket. It was his favorite, handmade by you. Each of siblings had one similar to it, a different color for each one.

He could feel you moving him about the room, swaying him. Through his half lidded eyes, he could see his father standing at the corner of the room. The scarf was gone, and he was smiling.

It was such a nice, warm memory. It was perfect for falling asleep. Warabiko kept forcing his eyes open to stay awake, but your voice was so comforting. It reminded him of the warm donuts you made, fresh out of the oven on a quiet morning.

There was no harm in closing his eyes, he'll see you again when he woke up. His small body went limp in your arms as his eyes began to close without fight.

His body was mere milliseconds away from relaxing into a comfy sleep. Until a sharp jab at his side forced him awake. The warmth of the memory was gone. Whatever it was that hit him launched far from where he previously was.

Warabiko was on high alert now. Big Mom was still angry, still searching for croquembouche. He shakily stood on his feet with a hand on the side where he was jabbed. He glanced back to where he remembered seeing his uncle's and aunt.

Physically, he could see they weren't hurt. But their faces held a different story. They were terrified, all color was drained from their faces. It was odd considering Mont-d'Or and Opera's skin tone.

Warabiko dared follow their gaze and he soon wished he hadn't. His heart stopped and ice filled his veins, making him freeze in place.

He didn't even notice nor hear Big Mom stomp away in the opposite direction, demanding croquembouche. In that moment, in his mind, everything was quiet.

A mirror image of his eyes was staring straight into his own. That familiar color he always saw in the mirror was drained away, and only white remained.

The only movement that was seen wasn't a sign of life. It was just your body falling to the ground. The sound of it reverberated throughout the whole Chateau.

Warabiko would hear that sound in his nightmares.

[nyxaffixed]

I am in LOVE with your Wedding Bells AU!!! I always love it when people integrate jewelry (specifically gold) into fictional cultures and this just takes the cake--- is there any jewelry/item associated with non-spousal partnership or platonic partnership? I'd love to integrate this kind of idea into my (for-my-eyes-only, never to be published anywhere) fanfic lmao

Most jewelry in the lamb/sheep culture is non romantic. It’s based off of intent on both parties, sort of saying nonverbally what you think you are to someone, and how they in turn perceive you.

For example, if you’d like to be friends with someone, you’d give them something for their hands and arms, but if they put it on their clothes you know they only think of you as an acquaintance. Anything above the head is reserved for family, and anything on the feet is for people you hate.

If someone gave you a necklace, and you wrapped it around your wrist, it’s basically rejecting someone’s proposal, but saying “I’d still like to be friends though”.

There’s creativity with how jewlery is displayed, and most of the Lamb's follower's offerings are either somehow attached to their fleece or displayed in the temple.

When Shamura gifted Auri a set of bracelets, they put them on their horns (because Shamura is now family). Shamura saw this, put the pieces together, and realized that Narinder and the Lamb were married.

Shamura told their other siblings, but all the bishops refuse to tell Narinder, because they think its funny.

Edit: Im so glad you like this au. Please have fun with it in your writing! If I didnt fully answer your question, please let me know. I feel as though I may not have.

[mumms-the-word]

BG3 Wedding Season Tag Game

Inspired by @lewdisescariot's post about Spring/Summer being wedding season, I present to you an unofficial Wedding Season Tag Game!

It's time to create your special day. Your favorite companion or NPC has proposed to your OC, or your OC proposed to them, and now it's time to plan and throw a wedding! The first list is about the details, while the second zeroes in on specific moments!

Tag a friend and challenge them to answer some (or all) of the prompts on this list. There are 31 prompts, so you can also use the prompts as a daily headcanon/art/fic challenge. Use the prompts however you like! If you want to share your stuff with a shared tag, you can use the tag #bg3weddingseason

✨Details✨

Wedding, or something else? - What do the characters think about weddings or marriages? If not a wedding, would they acknowledge their relationship in a different kind of ceremony?

Proposal - Who proposed to whom? Were there rings or other gifts involved?

Bachlor/Bachelorette parties? - Do the characters get a bachelor(ette) party before the big day? Does anything crazy happen?

Pre-Ceremony Events - Are there any special events, ceremonies, rituals, or preparations the couple must do before the wedding day? Ritual cleansing, asking a parent for the character's hand, mehndi/henna painting, little pre-ceremony games or challenges, etc?

Formal or informal affair? - Is the wedding elaborate and grand, or simple and sweet? Is it a tenday-long series of parties or is it a quick vow exchange in front of Withers?

Venue - Where is the ceremony and/or reception? Inside? Outside?

Timing - What time of year are they getting married? What time of day?

Traditions - What traditions are involved in the ceremony/reception? Is there a mix of traditions from either partner?

Decor - What kind of notable decor is there at the venue? Do they have something like an arch, a carpet aisle, fairy lights in the trees, or other elaborate decorations? Did they choose to decorate at all?

Flowers - What flowers or other natural elements do they have as part of their decoration, if any? Are these flowers significant?

Bouquet or no bouquet? - Does someone carry a bouquet, or do they choose to carry something else? Or do they walk down the aisle with nothing at all?

Music - Is there music at the ceremony or the reception? What kind of music? Do they hire an orchestra, band, or half-decent bard to serenade them?

Outfits - What is the married couple going to wear? Is there special significance in the outfit choices, colors, jewelry, etc?

Rings - What do their rings look like, if they choose to exchange any?

Vows and Unity Ceremonies - Does the couple exchange vows? Do they complete any kind of "unity" ceremony, like handfasting, planting a tree together, etc?

Wedding Party - Are there bridesmaids, groomsmen, attendants, special witnesses? Are they dressed a certain way or positioned in a special spot?

Going Down the Aisle - Does anyone escort the character walking down the aisle? Do they go alone?

I Now Pronounce You... - Do your characters change their last names, keep their last names, arrange for a specific kind of name? For example, "Mr. and Mr. Dekarios" or "Lord and Lady Ravengard-Cliffgate"?

Guests - Who else is there? Are there any special details about how the guests are arranged, what they are wearing, or what they are doing?

Food - What kind of food and drink is being served at the reception? Is there a lush feast or simple fare? Is there a wedding cake or some other kind of traditional wedding food?

Dancing - Is there any dancing? Elegant waltzes or all-out party-hard tavern music dance parties?

Ending the Night - How does the reception end? Is there a big send-off, or does everyone quietly fade out as the night turns into dawn?

Honeymoon - Does the couple take a honeymoon anywhere?

✨Specific Moments✨

The Night Before - Write about the night before the wedding. Are your characters nervous? Excited? Do they see their partner or keep away?

Getting Ready - Who helps your characters get ready? Are there any sweet, funny, bittersweet, or adorable moments that happen?

The First Look - Write about the moment when your married couple sees each other in their wedding outfits for the first time.

Ceremony - Write the scene where they exchange vows, complete a unity ceremony, exchange rings, or etc.

First Dance - Does your couple have a first dance? What is that like for them?

Private Moments - Every couple needs a private moment away from the big day. When does your couple escape the festivities, before, during, or after the ceremony/reception, to have a private, quiet (or perhaps not so quiet) moment?

Reception - Does anything specific happen at the reception? Drama, a sweet moment with a parent or other companions, cake-smashing, games, a surprise?

First Night, Morning After - Write a specific moment or detail about their first night together as a wedded couple, and/or what it is like for them to wake up the next morning as a wedded couple.

Different cultures around the world have different wedding expectations, ceremonies, events, and so forth, so if you find that this list doesn't let you explore those ideas, feel free to adjust the prompts to suit you and your characters more!

Enjoy and have fun!

[missheavenfield1215]

I think taking the relationship between Beetlejuice and Lydia for granted in the new film is too hasty to say.

I know it's hard to tell them not to be hopeful when they've already released this kind of official material. I mean, have you seen this?!

Or the certainty that Lydia accepted without hesitation Beetlejuice's proposal to look for her daughter. (although it is more than obvious why she accepted it) min: 3:57

Or even this video... Are you really saying that a relationship is very difficult when you talk about his "relationship" with Lydia??

And let's also talk about this face... Jesus... It seems that Beetlejuice has found the love of his life when he sees Lydia. (Personally I think in the second GIF Beetlejuice is looking at his wedding cake or something else, because it seems that he is still with his back to her)

But I think there's something they're forgetting.

This has also come out and is behind the scenes.

You can use the ending of the musical (although I doubt it very much, Tim and Michael refuse to see the musical). Here I believe that Beetlejuice will choose Astrid or she herself will offer to marry him to save her mother and so they would kill Beetlejuice, staining her dress with his blood.

I'm not a person who gets excited when I see some romantic approach, I expect it to really happen.

Have they forgotten the unfinished ship ReyLo?? Zutara's discarded idea?? The bland romance between Lucy and Raoul? The main couple of Wish with Asha and Starboy who they discarded because #feminism?

I think this could be the same...

I feel like they're not really going to pair Lydia and Beetlejuice. Because even though their deal is transactional, (he helps her find her daughter and she marries him to bring him back to life and get him away from his ex-wife, Delores).

I feel like all these "shows of affection" are a farce... This comes across as:

-"Like why do you say you can't marry me?" "You say it's because you don't love me and I don't either?" "So here, take (literally) my heart and shut up."

I don't like to be so pessimistic, I really wish they stayed together, because for God's sake, they are an iconic couple in gothic horror and black comedy movies even though they have never really been a couple (plus ALL if not most Tim Burton movies have romance or proof that there was going to be a romance (like an unfinished pairing). As in Alice in Wonderland, Edward Scissorhands, Corpse Bride etc).

If the Beetlebabes is canonized, Tim Burton risks waves and a HUGE amount of hate for "pairing a girl with a disgusting adult" (even though in the movie Lydia is already an adult).

Beetlejuice has a picture of Lydia when she was a teenager, which means that he fell in love with her when she was an underage girl...

Even if he says that Beetlejuice and Lydia were created to be together (as some sort of "soulmates") and that at some point in a sequel they would make that a reality, there will be a lot of people who will be very angry about this.

I really don't think Tim Burton would risk all the criticism and hate...

Unless he makes the decision to defend this Ship openly, he will not do so without at least giving as an example the musical, whose directors ignored that detail (of the "soulmates", Perhaps because of the pressure to be politically correct by Broadway standards) because they did it at his expense and not with his help...

Let's remember that the musical and everything in it, is not from Tim Burton's own mind, but they did do what they wanted with his characters without consulting him first.

But I still thinking that claiming victory so hastily would be very bad for the whole Fandom.

I ask you not to celebrate such an abrupt "triumph"... The film has not yet been released.

I ask you to wait at least until the premiere of the film.

I ask you to wait until it is 100% confirmed.

[rebo-chan]

IMPORTANT CHARACTER ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT. DO NOT IGNORE, YOU DO NOT WANT TO MISS THIS.

OKAY SO WE ALL KNOW THAT TSUNA LIKES SALISBURY STEAK FROM THE DATABOOKS AND ANIME, AND WE KNOW THAT REBORN LIKES ESPRESSO.. BUT IS THAT THE TRUTH? Is that what these young lads consumed throughout the series? What do they like to eat? What do we BEAR WITNESS TO THEM SHOVING INTO THEIR MOUTHS? With this question in mind, I embarked on a quest with my good friend @ketchup-chup TO DOCUMENT WHAT TSUNA AND REBORN ACTUALLY EAT. Have you been deceived to believe that Reborn doesn't like sweets? If so, you're in for a FUCKING treat. Some things we discovered during this is that Tsuna just is SO bad with eating. HE EATS SO LITTLE. I WOULD GO CHAPTERS UPON CHAPTERS WITH HIM NOT EATING ANYTHING. All while REBORN SHOVED HIS FUCKING FACE WITH FOOD TO THE POINT WHERE WE HAD TO ADD IN RULES FOR HIM.

You see the frame on the left? You see the difference in plates between Tsuna and Reborn? This is the best way I can symbolize what this was like before we begin.

Okay, before I begin, here are some ground rules:

We only did the daily life MANGA chapters, chapter 1-61 because nobody has any real time to calculate the distance of Byakuran's ash to see if any landed in Tsuna's mouth. That being said, I am sure that if we did Reborn would continue to be a fucking menace. We did not include any anime scenes, because we just could not realistically watch the entire daily life anime. This also does not include any 'food' we see in openings like the strawberry jam toast from Boys and Girls, or the soda he is drinking in Dive to World. Same goes for endings.

Reborn ate so much that for @ketchup-chup's sanity, we included only the things that he was actually shoving in his mouth. So, the list you're about to see, there WAS more and we cut it for our sanity's sake. Tsuna was eating so LITTLE, we did the exact opposite where everytime a food was even SPOTTED NEAR HIM, I snatched up into my list.

The foods will be listed in order as they were spotted in the series as we went through, but as sometimes they are doubled up on later. (As in a character for example had coffee once, then coffee again in a later chapter will be written as Coffee x2)

That's all! So, let's get started!

Sawada Tsunayoshi: Pocky Milk Italian Pasta Water x8 Chips x2 Lollipop x2 Poison Cooking x3 Rice balls x2 (the second time he had this, he fucking spit it out..) Soda x5 (his third soda was in one of harus pictures at the end of the chapter<3) Soumen noodles Sushi x2 (Two separate pieces of Sushi within two frames of each other that looked different lol...) Rice x3 (Rice in a bowl!) One bite of cake (This agitated me because there was a separate frame of Reborn with his own cake, that looked demolished in comparison to Tsunas measly one bite... OTL) Ramen Coffee x2 Instant Ramen 2 WATERMELON RINDS (IN THE SAME SCENE!! HE ATE TWO!!) Juice It should be said before I move onto Reborn, that the "ramen" entry was this:

That's 61 chapters worth of Tsuna's food. :) As you can see he really likes water. Water and one bite of cake :)<3

Reborn:

Fish Coffee x7 Italian Pasta Tea x3 (Second entry of this was him having his own tea ceremony of this) Watermelon x2 Cold Soba noodles Popsicle x7 Hot pot Kimchi Soumen Juice x2 Beer Sushi x2 Tuna Water x3 Cake x2 (First was the one he devoured that I mentioned further above, second was his wedding cake with Bianchi) Rice Mochi (For the mochi making competition, he was taste testing) Soup (Probably miso judging by it, but he sure was slurping it) Cookie Barbeque Soda

An honorable mention that the lovely ketchup didn't include because he didn't actually eat it, but I spotted in digging through chapters of Tsuna starving himself: a smoothie/milkshake(?) and a icecream sundae. Here you can look at it yourself~

Also, yes the popsicle was included in the count of FUCKING popsicles he's CONSUMED.

To do a recap:

Tsuna ate 39 things by the start of kokuyo, subtracting the RAMEN gokudera dropped on him and the spit out rice ball and i wish i coULD HALF HIS FUCKING ONE BITE CAKE THATS NOT REAL FOOD TSUNA. Tsuna really consumed 36.5 items (37 if you count the one bite of cake but whatever..) Also, if you subtract the poison cooking, he's sitting at 33.5 (34 *grumbles*).

Reborn ate 39 items, including the honorable mention he had 41 items. Bearing in mind, we cut out so much of Reborn just showing up near food or holding onto it. Tsuna, meanwhile was counted for existing near food. Gathering nutrients through photo-fucking-synthesis. The anime feeds Tsuna SO much more, I can name 5 items off the top of my memory that he ate in daily life that just aren't counted from the manga. Please don't be fooled by the fact they start out with the same number till we started subtracting, MOST OF TSUNAS IS HIS WATER COUNT. If you IGNORE ALL THE DRINKS HE HAS, MANS IS SITTING AT 17, WHILE IF YOU REMOVE REBORNS DRINKS HE GOES DOWN TO 25. (Its mostly his love for espresso bringing down his number, MEANWHILE FOR TSUNA ITS HIS FUCKING WATER COUNT??)

Now that our statistical analysis that NO one told us to do has been completed. What can we learn from it about our characters favorite food preferences? Well, Tsuna is SO well hydrated. We love a water-stanning king. Besides that, he's mostly eating snacks with his lollipops, chips, and his enjoyment of drinking soda. (He drinks fast food soda the most, with 3 of those submissions being him sipping from a container with a straw. The last two are from a can and a bottle specifically.) Meanwhile, we can believe Reborn when he says he likes coffee, but ALSO he fucking?? loves?? popiscles?? it's unreal??? there were so many popsicles??? He LOVES SWEETS.. sad to say but he just fucking lied to Luce in the fillers about not liking sweets. It's Tsuna, if anyone, that doesn't like sweets with his one bite of cake. HOLD ON ACTUALLY FUCK THIS IM SHOWING YOU GUYS THE CAKE DILEMMA ME AND KETCHCUP WERE STARING AT.

YOU SEE THAT LITTLE CAKE THATS BEING CUT OUT OF FRAME? THATS IT. THATS THE EXTENT OT TSUNAS BITE. MEANWHILE, HERES REBORNS.

THAT THING IS ALMOST GONE. YALL ARE SEEING THIS RIGHT??

REKSHNS anyway! Reborn's more of a curious soul with his food, trying a bunch of stuff that he wouldn't normally eat. Meanwhile Tsuna plays it mostly safe with snacks and mostly Japanese food. AGAIN, no one asked us to do this and while we are absolutely hysterical as I type this up, if you have any questions about specifics please feel free to ask SDKJGN this is IMPORANT!! CHARACTER ANALYSIS!!! CLEARLY!!!

Thanks for reading this far HELP ME. This was funny as hell to dig through and perhaps we may look through the last arcs if we feel like it, or do other characters. (I've noticed Gokudera is a good eater!)

See you next post~

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Shipping War - Bonus Poll

Not a single Luffy ship got past the second round, so we still gotta decide which one was the most popular of the 2 that made it to round 2.

LuSan art by @supernaturallyginger. Check out the original post here!

CobyLu art by @aroacejay. Please check out the original post here!

Propaganda under the cut.

Propaganda for Sanji x Luffy:

I don't think anyone is gonna bother denying the fact that WCI is literally just the plot of an otome isekai shoujo manga/manhwa. MC (main character) is treated like trash by family except for the 1 dead mom and 1 nice sympathetic supporter that can't do much of anything to help. MC escapes only to find themselves in an even worse situation somewhat of their own making, only to be swept off their feet by the ML (male lead) and saved, full damsel in distress style. Dramatic love confessions, crying in the rain, betrayal from an arranged marriage, it has it all.

Dude Luffy loves Sanji so so much like WCI is the best example and like you don't even really need to see the love as romantic if that bugs you but dudes. The first words out of the Luffys Shadow Possessed Oars was yelling for Sanji. He just loves Sanji so much and Sanji loves him too

The WCI arc in itself is mega SanLu propaganda. Luffy invaded an emperor’s territory, completely crashed a wedding, went up against Sanji’s evil science family, and got nearly beat to death by Sanji himself all in order to get Sanji back. Sanji offered his life to Kuma at thriller bark so Kuma wouldn’t kill Luffy. He pushed himself for 2 years all in order to get stronger FOR Luffy. Sanji feels sorry when he isn’t useful, the whole reason why he used the raid suit those few times was because he was thinking about getting stronger for Luffy, but realized that he didn’t want to become an emotionless monster like his family. Sanji broke down in tears at WCI when he tried to get Luffy to go away by fighting him. And then broke down in tears again when he ran back to Luffy and told him he wanted to go back home to the Sunny. No matter what Sanji cooks, Luffy always likes it and is proud to have him in his crew. Sanji is also one of Luffy’s “wings”, as stated by Robin! They’re both just so sweet and clearly care very deeply about each other.

Luffy saving Sanji on whole cake island got to me

[Insert everything that happens between them during WCI] how could I see luffy yelling about how he won't eat anything and will starve- LUFFY OF ALL PEOPLE- unless Sanji comes back and not ship them at LEAST a little. "Without you I can't become the pirate king" absolutely devastating cinema. Then Sanji laying out everything, in tears, and Luffy accepting it all and just saying, "well that's who you are" poetic. Final wci thing: luffy hearing judges bs about sanji and going "whyd he start listing all your good point" true love. This seems one sided but Sanji is also just as bad. "Which version of me do you prefer" anyone? They care SO MUCH about each other. Also Luffy loves to eat, Sanji loves to feed people, they're meant to be.

*gestures at the entirety of WCI* I mean that’s Love, they are Ride or Die, Luffy cannot become the pirate king without Sanji, whether that means physically because he needs Sanji’s support or just because being the pirate king means Luffy has everything he wants and what he wants is Sanji or both. And Sanji loves him just as much back! He’s his sun he’s his world…Luffy jump and Sanji’s too busy skywalking to bother asking how high. I just love them sm

Oda himself wrote the propaganda for this, Whole Cake Island just cemented lusan as canon. "I can't become Pirate King without you!" <- that's love baby

Propaganda for Luffy x Coby:

The first characters in the series who ever met and the first characters we as an audience met. Luffy is the whole reason why Koby is the character he is now and was the first to experience the “Luffy Effect”. Luffy is happy whenever he hears about Koby’s accomplishments and fully believes in his dreams even when Koby is a marine. Koby holds a very obvious bias towards Luffy (even if he is a pirate) and is the reason he learned to keep an open mind about pirates and the navy and what the meaning of Justice is. Koby’s admiration and flustered nature towards Luffy can definitely be interpreted as a crush. Koby is very ride or die for Luffy even in the face of people drastically more powerful than him (Akainu).

Coby is beyond gay for Luffy and he was the first person Luffy traveled with.

they are cute

Coby literally gets heart eyes and can't stop himself from piping up every time Luffy comes up in conversation that boy is SMITTEN. I don't know if Luffy understands but he knows Koby is one of his and that's good enough for me.

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 5

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When he has good news, but no one to share it with, Parker invites him along to her brother's birthday party. A moment of weakness, or a moment for him to prove he's more than just his Hollywood ego?

read the story here: prev / next

"—and Jody said she was going to wear something simple, maybe jeans and a t-shirt, but I'm not really sure I want to match that vibe or go for something a little more, you know, fun. Maybe I could finally break out the bucket hat tonight," Colt's voice droned on from the phone tucked indelicately into the crevice of her neck and shoulder. Parker was only half listening, as was the usual when it came to her brother's incessant rambling about anything related to the pretty blonde camerawoman, and while he talked, she made work of slowly peeling strips of painters tape from the freshly painted wall. The ball in her hand was nicely sized by this point of the conversation. "So, anyway... uh, wait, what was the point?"

"Was there a point?" she mused aloud. "I stopped listening when you started talking about some pony she rode once at her twelfth birthday party."

She heard him snap his fingers. "Right—the birthday party."

"Hers or yours?"

"Mine! Listen, I know that you all put a lot of work into planning this shindig—"

"Shindig? God, you're old!"

"—but I would really appreciate if you told me what to expect tonight. Just a hint will do. I'm not trying to show up wearing dress shoes to a disco if you know what I mean."

Parker stuck another piece of tape onto the ever-growing ball with a blithe snort. "I never know what you mean."

"Park," he whined, much like a child, and not the thirty-something year old man that he was. Was this year number thirty-seven or thirty-eight? She should probably figure that out before putting candles on his cake. "Come onnnnnn. Just tell me. Just a hint!"

"And ruin the surprise? No way, Jose."

"But it's my birthday surprise! You can spoil it for me. I mean, realistically, no one would blame you if, maybe, you accidentally let the surprise slip. It'd be expected coming from you, actually."

She frowned. "What do you mean it would be expected coming from me?"

"Well, you know, you can't keep a secret to save your life."

Parker tossed the ball of tape into the trash and picked up the broom with an indignant scoff. "Excuse me, I am a very good secret keeper."

A long winded and high-pitched whine followed, and she winced at the volume of it. Parker switched the phone to her other ear, certain that between her brother and Melissa she had permanent hearing damage.

"Oh, so now all of the sudden you're a locked vault!" he blathered on. "Where was this dedication to silence when I got sick at Macy Lindwigs wedding and you spent the entire evening telling everyone you could find?"

An image of Macy Lindwig, dressed to the nines in a beautiful handmade wedding dress, staring in horror as her brother puked in an azalea bush three minutes before the ceremony started came to mind.

"Oh, I totally forgot about that," she snickered, the memory almost too sweet to ignore now that it had been brought back up. "You ruined her heels that night, you know. What was I supposed to do? Not tell everyone?"

"For starters. Or, at the very least, you could have refrained from blabbing about it at Christmas," he muttered petulantly. "Grandma never looked at me the same way again. She still won't let me near her rose garden."

"Cause and effect," Parker chirped. "You drank one too many tequila shots the night before, and thus, you have to suffer the fate of Grandma judging you every Christmas Eve."

"Miami Vice premiered the night before!" he argued, shouting, in what she suspected was a deranged manner. Parker hoped he was somewhere public; perhaps a grocery store or laundromat. "Just another example of how you can't keep a secret for the life of you, not even when your brother's good name is at stake. Your only true sibling, might I add."

"And here I thought I was an orphan found in a box."

She could hear Colt kicking something, palm clasped over the speaker as he whined, before he was back. "You're worse than Judas, you know. You ruin lives just for the fun of it, no silver needed."

"Are you offering silver?"

A cough. "Uh, I mean, I'm a little tight on silver at the moment. I think I have a free sub from Publix somewhere around here."

"A coupon. Wow. So generous."

"It's a punch card, and those aren't easy to fill out, you know," he huffed indignantly, obviously put out that Parker wasn't going to accept his lackluster offer. "What if I say pretty please?"

"Ha! Nice try. I happen to like Jody, so even if I wanted to tell you what we're doing tonight—which I don't—I'm not going to. She was really excited to help me plan this year."

Some spluttering followed her resolution, before he was kicking something again. Apparently, whatever he kicked was harder than he thought, however, and the next moment her brother was wheezing in pain.

"Jesus, take it easy, alright? You're going to need your toes for tonight."

In a breathless voice, he weaseled, "tonight at...?"

But Parker was no novice when it came to keeping secrets from her brother, and so she didn't fall for the trick. "Ha, nice try," she snorted while stooping to sweep her pile of dust and paint chips off the ground. Shades of green and white stained her hands, but she didn't bother to clean them off. It would be a pointless endeavor, after all, considering what they had planned for Colt's birthday party later that evening. "I'm trying to stay on Jody's good side."

"Both of her sides are good sides," was his immediate response, something wistful coloring his tone. "She's gorgeous. If you haven't noticed."

"Trust me," Parker deadpanned with a blithe glance at her own disheveled appearance, "I've noticed."

"Do you think I should bring her flowers?"

"To your birthday party?"

"Girls like flowers. Plus, she's planning the whole thing."

"I helped!"

"I'm not bringing you flowers to my birthday party, Park. It's not about you, you know."

"Right, of course, how could I have forgotten?" she deadpanned. However, despite his disinterest in showing her any gratitude, Parker smiled at the concept that there was a man out in this world so infatuated by a woman, that he not only spent all his time talking about her, but he also wanted to bring her flowers for no good reason. If only she could find someone like that who wasn't her brother. Wishes and wants, she supposed. "As nice of a thought as that is, don't bring her flowers tonight. They'll end up wilted by the time she gets back home from the party. If they aren't totally trashed first, that is."

His tone pitched higher, eagerly. "Trashed? Why would they be trashed? Are we doing some floral vandalism tonight? Oh!" Colt cried, hands clapping together. "Are we going to a wreck-it room? I've always wanted to do something like that. You know, somewhere that wasn't on a set, anyway, where I'm being beat up for a living with props."

Parker covered the speaker of her phone to curse at herself. While she hadn't ruined the surprise, Colt was like a dog with a hambone, and was not likely to let it go anytime soon.

She cleared her throat and attempted indifference. "Not even close," she said, but it didn't sound super convincing, and with an exasperated huff, she threw her hands up. "Jesus, Colt, you're going to get me into trouble! Just chill out. Jody should be picking you up soon, anyway."

"Picking me up soon for...?"

Colt's whining was interrupted by the tinkle of the front bell, and as she switched her phone back to her right ear, Parker took a moment to scoop up the paint-splattered tarp sprawled across the floor.

Melissa had been on to something with her suggestion to repaint the store, and while they had only gotten the walls finished over the past two and a half weeks, the mossy green color with gold accented picture frames really gave some life back to her shop. It still had that musty smell, as well as a pair of flickering lightbulbs from the janky electrical sockets, but they were definitely taking a step in the right direction. The color made everything feel cozier, and once they coated the bookshelves with shades of blue and yellow and replaced the overhead fluorescents with something warmer, she thought it might look like an entirely new store for the price of a few gallons of paint.

Not to mention the color stood out from the recent tan and brown trend that had swept across Hollywood hills. Win, win.

"Ugh! Stop trying to spoil your own surprise and let it happen, alright? You're going to love it," she pacified half-heartedly while booting a stool out of the way. Too deep of a breath had the smell of laquear and paint fumes killing off some braincells, and Parker dropped the tarp along with the rest of the paint materials with a cross-eyed huff. "Plus, it was all Jody's idea, so if you hate it, I would keep that to your..."

Parker paused halfway up the aisle.

On the far end of it, a brown and black colored dog sat patiently wagging its tail at her. Its tongue was sticking out of the side of its mouth, but despite Elon Musk's predictions about the existence of intelligent life in the galaxy, she was pretty sure that the local population of Hollywood mutts had yet to grow opposable thumbs capable of opening a door.

She blinked at it.

"Er, listen," she muttered into the phone, gaze darting past the dog, but not seeing its owner. "I have to go. There's a dog situation that I need to take care of."

"A dog? I've been asking you for years to get a dog, and now you finally decide to get one on my birthday! That's so totally fu—"

Parker hung up before he could complain any further, and slowly tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. The dog barked at her, as if excited to finally have her attention.

"Er—hi. Did you—how did you get in here?" she asked.

It responded by tilting its head to a ninety-degree angle. She stared, waiting, as if the language barrier would suddenly disappear.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't. The dog barked a second time.

"I don't have any treats on me," she said again, not sure else what to say, but certainly feeling like she should say something. It trotted towards her, and though it seemed friendly at first, when it stuck its head into her crotch to take too deep a sniff for comfort, Parker jumped backwards. "Ah—fuck! Buy a girl dinner first, huh?"

She sidestepped the dog, hands splayed out in front of her like she was a robbery victim, and did her best to avoid being felt up as the dog followed her towards the storefront. It nosed her rear end, and Parker let out an undignified squeak.

"Jesus! I know the humane society is underfunded and all, but this is a little ridiculous, don't you think?" she asked it.

The dog darted in front of her, nose going right back for the crotch, and Parker just barely managed to leap onto Melissa's sunken reading chair when an increasingly familiar head of blonde hair stepped out from behind one of the bookshelves.

"Talon, Jean Claude," he said, and as though the dog hadn't just been harassing her, it plopped down onto the floor right beside him. Dog and owner blinked at her in bemusement. "Don't seriously tell me that you're afraid of dogs."

Parker shot him a disgruntled glare in response, but Tom didn't seem to mind the heat packed behind it. Instead, he smirked at her, crossed one arm over the other, and languidly leaned back against the front counter.

It was obvious he was laughing at her, and not with her, and Parker added it to the list of all the things she couldn't stand about Tom Ryder. Worse though, she couldn't help but subconsciously smooth a hand over her hair, because where Jody was effortlessly gorgeous, Parker required quite a bit of effort not to look awful. And right now, with paint-stained pants, a half-assed pair of dutch braids, and miscolored converse, she was certainly not showing him her good side.

If she even had one, that is.

"I should have known you would have a pervy dog," she said while looking down her nose at him. Literally, too, considering she was still standing on the chair. Parker flushed a bright red at the realization and none-too-glamorously clambered down onto her feet. "And French, too. I think that's stereotyping, Ryder."

Despite the distrustful look she shot the dog, he seemed a whole lot less pervy and rabid now that she knew he had an owner, and when she approached it, its tail flapped back and forth excitedly.

"Insulting an entire country?" Tom harrumphed as she started to scratch the dog between its ears. "Maybe you should sit through PR training with me next time Gail hosts a session."

She blew a bland raspberry as she read the dog's name tag.

Jean Claude. Huh. Cute.

He let out a low whine when she hit a particularly sensitive spot, and in delight, he rolled onto his back with half-lidded eyes.

"Is this the one you were talking to the other day, or do you have any other expat mutts that I should know about? I can only be felt up so many times before I file a harassment complaint."

"Jean Claude isn't a mutt," he corrected her, disdain at the very idea of owning a mutt. Parker supposed adopting a kennel-dog was likely below him, being a superstar and what not. "He's an Australian Kelpie, pure-bred, and he certainly wasn't fucking cheap. His parents are award winning cattle dogs in the Australian circuit."

"That's an award category?"

"Hmph. Laugh all you want, but I'd bet he's better trained than you are. He's even trained to attack someone in the balls on command."

"So am I," she sassed while making kissy faces at Jean Claude. "Oh, he's cute. Yes, you are. Yes, you are," she cooed.

He ate it right up, tail flapping in every direction, and when she spared Tom a glance, she could feel the jealousy rolling off him that someone else was getting more attention. Dog or not. Parker snickered.

"Sorry you're stuck with this one," she added, jerking a thumb over her shoulder to gesture in Tom's general area. "But trust me, you're way cuter, and probably lower maintenance than he is."

Tom cleared his throat. "Are you done?"

"Jealous?"

"Of a dog?" he deadpanned, rolling his eyes beneath a pair of expensive Ray Bans—not at all disproving the theory—and Parker smiled at her private joke. "Hardly."

She leaned closer to Jean Claude, and spoke in a stage whisper, "I think he's jealous."

And—yup—that seemed to do it.

Tom pushed off the counter with a sharp huff, unamused by her teasing, and make a command in French. Jean Claude bounded onto his feet, trotted to where Tom was, and curled up between his legs.

Parker stood and planted her hands onto her hips. "Real mature."

"I can always show you his attack command," Tom threatened. "I doubt you'll find him as adorable when he attacks you. It's always a hit at parties, watching someone get their balls bitten off."

"I think I'm missing a critical component for that trick to work," she pointed out with a dry smile. "But, anyway, what are you doing here? If you came to return my books, they're yours, considering how much you paid for them the other day."

He shrugged. "Maybe I want my change."

"You came all the way here, through traffic, to get your change?" she echoed, clearly disbelieving his piss poor excuse. Under her stare, Tom shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. "Hm. I thought I was supposed to be the penny pincher between the two of us."

"Maybe it's not the money I care about. It's the principle of the whole thing."

"Ha! You expect me to believe that you have principles?"

Tom huffed, but she caught the crooked upturn of his mouth. Still, he played the victim—always acting, this one. "You're right. I don't just deserve change. I should get a full refund, considering how awful your book recommendations were. Not to mention the books practically fell apart when I touched them. Clearly, you sell cheap products."

"Clearly," she muttered, while flipping the sign on the front door from OPEN to CLOSED. There wasn't much going on outside, anyway, and she doubted she would be missing any customers by taking the day off early.

"You want to tell me what you're really doing here? Because we both know you liked my recommendations," she said matter-of-factly, moving to the cash register now. She had made a few sales throughout the day, more than a typical Friday, and so she carefully began stacking her receipts. "I mean, who wouldn't? Those are good books I gave you. Contact is in my top ten."

Tom leaned on the counter. "Books I bought."

She waved him off, stack of receipts in hand, as she locked the lower cabinet. Tom could complain all he wanted, but she did know that he liked her book recommendations. He had finished them all within a week, when he likely should have been spending more attention devoted to practicing for his audition. Granted, it was a sci-fi movie he was auditioning for, but—

She startled.

"Oh, duh!" Parker sprung to her full height with a curious look. "Did you get the part?"

Tom smirked.

It wasn't bashful or pleasant or soft like authors typically described their tall, dark, and handsome characters, but it was so very him that she hardly minded it. In fact, Parker sort of liked it. It crinkled the soft lines by his eyes, loosened the tension in his shoulders, and made him look younger. Nicer. Cuter.

"Of course I did," he sassed. "I told you I was going to get it."

She ignored his blatant peacocking to punch him in the shoulder. The action seemed to shock him, and Tom clutched the spot with his other hand—as if she had done some real damage—while Parker grinned. "Holy shit, that's great! I mean, sure, you were a shoo-in or whatever, but this is a big deal. Right? It's a big deal? You must be jumping off the walls right now!"

Tom gave a bemused huff, eyes darting over the length of her face, and nodded. "Biggest movie I've gotten yet," he said. "My first sci-fi film too, so, that's going to get my name out there even more than it was. I mean, if I thought I was well known before... after this, everyone will know who Tom Ryder is."

"That's awesome!"

Tom rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm, clearly not buying into it, and though Parker was so excited on his behalf, Tom seemed like he was fighting off indifference to the news. "Yeah, well, a role's a role, you know."

"Well, yeah," she hedged, waving a hand at him, "but this is your first sci-fi role, and it was one that you even told me you wanted to get. You must be at least a little excited for it. Sci-fi is so interesting, I bet filming it is gonna be a ton of fun."

"Sure," he echoed dryly. His smirk had returned, and though she wouldn't necessarily classify what his face was doing now as a smile, it was certainly close. "Fun. That's what I'm aiming for in my career: fun."

"Oh, please," she clucked her tongue at him, receipts shoved hastily into their folder. "You can be a huge movie star and still have fun doing it. I mean, isn't that the point? Doing something you love and all that. I'd imagine it's going to be a whole new experience for you, stepping into a sci-fi set."

He hemmed, mouth twisting between a smile and a frown. "I guess."

He didn't sound all that convinced. In fact, when Parker thought about it, she seemed to be far more excited about the role than he did. She tilted her head at him suspiciously. "Alright, well... what are you doing to celebrate?" she asked. "A vacation? Buying yourself a new car? Oooh—Legoland?"

He furrowed his brows at her in surprised. "Legoland?"

"It's what I would do," she shrugged. "Probably, anyway. I've never been because the tickets just don't seem worth the price, but if I had just landed a giant role in a giant blockbuster, I think buying a ticket would be the least of my worries. You could probably even write it off on your taxes."

He blinked at her. "Poor people are so sad to me."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and took delight in the way that he huffed in amusement. "Well? Come on—make me jealous—what are you doing?"

Tom shrugged. "Gail's throwing a big party next week to announce the role. She always does that. Invites her producer friends and talent agents and that sort of stuff. There'll probably be some sort of attraction, singers or a zebra or something."

"Casual," she snorted.

"She has a weird thing for exotic animals, I don't know."

"Seems like it. But that's what she's doing, what are you doing?" she needled further. "I mean, I assumed you would do a big party with your friends before then. You know—cops get called, party crashers—the whole scene."

Tom hesitated to answer, and when he did, he didn't sound all that much like himself. "Well, I can't really do that—she controls when I make go public with the news—has the whole timeline figured out, and manages all the press for it. She doesn't let me tell people ahead of time."

"I'm people."

He rolled his eyes. "You're a nobody," he said. Not to be mean; no, Tom was very clear in his words when he intended to be mean. Instead, he had said it nonchalantly, as if it was a universal truth that everyone understood. And, in all honesty, Parker got it. "I mean, who are you going to tell that would care, you know?"

"Okay, ouch," she muttered still, before barreling on. "Don't you have any non-work friends that you can go get drinks with?"

"All my friends are work friends."

"What about people that don't know Gail?"

Tom huffed and waved a hand at her. "That's the same thing, you know. She introduced me to everyone I know in the industry. Other than some set hands, we have the same circle."

Parker sank onto her heels, feeling slighted on his behalf, but knowing that she didn't really have a right to. Surely, Tom Ryder would have stood up to Gail if he didn't like her hands-on, helicopter parent approach to managing his life. And clearly their work relationship was beneficial to them both. He certainly didn't need a nobody like her feeling sorry for him.

And yet, she did.

Because, as she listened to him talk, it felt like he had to give up everything just to be a somebody in Hollywood. And while it might have been the norm for him, it was absolutely not the norm for everybody.

Did he even realize that?

"Fuck that," Parker said before she could think better of it, emotions getting the better of her. Colt always joked that she had a bleeding heart, but she had never thought there was anything wrong with that. "Come hang out with me, then."

Tom arched a brow at her, mouth parted dumbly. "...what?"

She shrugged, feeling a little like a specimen beneath a microscope, and struggled to explain herself. "I mean, you just said that Gail doesn't want you telling anybody that matters, and I only hang out with people that don't matter in the grand scheme of Hollywood politics. I'm getting ready to head to Colt's birthday party after this, and if you're not doing anything else, you may as well come with me. It won't be a celebration for you, obviously, but... it'll be fun."

He blinked at her slowly, surprise written in the fine lines of his face.

"We're not going to murder you," she huffed indignantly.

"I—I never hang out with Colt or those guys."

"Yeah, for good reason. They all sort of hate you for being an asshole on set to them. Like, all the time. I wouldn't want to hang out with you outside of work either, if I was them."

He scowled. "Oh, well, when you put it like that," he huffed. "Obviously, they're not going to want me to come. And, I may be an asshole, but I try not to gatecrash birthday parties."

She waved his concern away with a paint-stained hand. "First off, you won't be gatecrashing, I'm literally extending an invite. And secondly, they only hate you because you're a prick on set. What better way to prove that you're not a prick, by coming to Colt's birthday party, and—you know—actually being nice for once. Just don't be a dickwad. Or an asshole. Or any sort of thing that you usually are on a normal day."

"I think the saying is 'always be yourself'," he deadpanned.

"That absolutely doesn't apply here."

"Smartass."

Parker nudged him in the shoulder with an exasperated look. "Come on! What else are you going to do? Do some irresponsible spending and buy everyone a round of drinks. I bet they'll think differently of you after everybody is a few beers in."

Tom didn't seem too convinced with her logic. "Crashing his birthday party doesn't seem the best way to get on Colt's good side. I didn't even know it was his birthday."

"Now you do," she shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. And—well—her brother was probably going to bitch about Tom's presence at the party, but Parker also believed that after a few shots of liquor, everyone would get over the issue fairly quick. Not to mention the party itself was designed for stress relief. Bringing Tom may actually make the night. With a conniving wiggle of her brows, Parker tried again. "I know for a fact that there's room for one more. Jody and I planned the whole thing together, and if she's allowed a plus-one, so am I. Jean Claude can even come. Colt loves dogs."

Tom seemed to sway a little further with her reasoning, and with a slow nod, he finally agreed. He certainly didn't look happy about it though.

Parker punched the air. Oh, Colt is going to love this.

"Awesome! Give me a minute to lock up, and then we can go."

"Fine," he huffed, not too unlike that of a sulky toddler. "But I'm driving."

Parker smiled. Her car was a piece of shit that barely worked on a good day. She was going to insist he drive in the first place. Plus, now, she could get really drunk.

"Fine by me," was all she said, not eager to give away that piece of information just yet. "Just promise me you won't be an asshole. I won't be able to keep my reputation of favorite sister if you ruin the night."

"I'm not going to ruin the night," he snarked with a petulant glare. Parker shrugged, grabbing her things, as he asked, "...wait, I thought you were his only sister?"

"Exactly. Now, come on, I want to get there before they start assigning teams."

The bell rang as she stepped outside, Jean Claude trotting with her, and Tom hesitated for a brief moment before what she said caught up to him.

"Wait," he called, jogging after her. "What do you mean teams?"

---

Tom's presence did not go unnoticed. In fact, it had taken a mere three minutes before Jody was elbowing her to the side, a stern, disbelieving look furrowing her brows. She had let it go in a huff, however, when Parker pointed out that Tom had promised to be on his best behavior, as well as promised to buy the first round of drinks once the game was over.

That had been a lie, of course, but she supposed she could deal with that tantrum later.

Colt, on the other hand, hadn't been so easily placated, and as the twenty odd players stood in a circle, listening to the instructor drone on about safety, he weaseled next to her with a glare.

"I can't believe you brought Ryder," he hissed for the third time that night, hot breath on her face. She would have shoved him away if the instructor hadn't already reprimanded then twice for being distracting. "I mean, seriously Park, I can't stand the guy."

"Oh, really? I couldn't tell."

"Really!"

"Well, I'm sorry," she shrugged, although the apology was half-hearted at best, and Colt seemed to know this as he narrowed his eyes at her irritably. She huffed. "What was I supposed to do? Leave him behind?"

"Yes," Colt whisper-yelled. Dan glanced over his shoulder at the pair, and in perfect Seavers' sibling unison, they plastered fake smiles onto their faces with a friendly wave. He shook his head at them, but likely didn't think they were worth whatever trouble they caused, and faced forward once more. "That's exactly what you should have done!"

"It's not that easy," she argued, hissing as well. "He looked so sad! Like a little abandoned puppy dog that had just been kicked. It was a moment of weakness!"

"Oh, really?" Colt drawled. Together, they glanced over at Tom to find him ignoring everyone in the group with his head stuck in his phone. When a fly buzzed too close, he swatted at it with an icy glare. "That? You couldn't say no to that?"

"I said I was sorry!"

Parker's voice hitched higher than she intended, and the instructor paused in his speech to glare at the duo. She gave him a weak smile in return, mouthing, a guilty, sorry!

The man only got two words back into his speech, however, before Colt started whining again.

"Look, I'm totally stoked about the surprise party, okay? You did a stand-up job on it and the guest list. So how could you fuck it all up so close to the finish line?"

"What the hell does that even mean?" she asked in bewilderment. Parker shook her head. "Seriously, you need to update your sayings."

"Update my—?" Colt bit off a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose to take a long, overdrawn breath. "Why was he even at your bookstore? Since when did you two become friends? What happened to the whole—asshole, asshole, asshole—bit you had going on?"

"I still think he's an asshole," she shot back. But, well, when she caught Tom's gaze across the grass, she faltered. Did she think he was an asshole at his core? Or had he simply become someone she was beginning to understand—a dog that lashed out when someone got too close? Parker rubbed circles into her temple. "And we're not friends. And, even if we were, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"Myself?" he echoed in disbelief. "What do I have to do with this?"

"You're the one that gave him my phone number."

Colt snorted, shaking his head at her. "Fat chance of that," he said. Parker, thinking he was joking at first, fell silent when he caught the look in his eye. But, if Colt hadn't given Tom her phone number, then who had? she wondered, mentally counting down the list of people it could have possibly been.

Bigger fish to fry, she reminded herself when the list made her go cross-eyed.

"Whatever. We're not friends or buddies or whatever you think we are, so you can stop worrying about that."

Colt snorted. "Oh, sure you're not. He just happens to hang out around your bookshop and you share recommendations and, oh yeah! You bring him as a plus-one to my birthday party!"

Parker scowled. "I made the guest list, I think I have a right to bring someone along with."

"Sure, someone. Not Jaws over there."

She frowned at him, thrown off by the random insult. "Jaws?" she echoed, crinkling her nose distastefully. "What does a shark have to do with this?"

Colt sighed. "No, not the shark, the James Bond villain."

"That's a stupid name for a villain."

"I didn't write the damn thing."

"Okay, well, maybe he has the arrogance of a James Bond villain, but at least pick one from this century."

"Silva?"

"Nah. Whose the the one with the weird eye?"

Colt hummed thoughtfully, gaze darting over towards Tom. "Le Chiffre?"

Parker snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "That one!"

"Yeah, alright, I'll give you that," he conceded, nodding. "He does give off Bond villain vibes with the sunglasses and hair-do."

"Right? Oh you should have seen these glasses he was wearing last time. They were huge, and yellow tinted; like Tony Stark would wear. They were so ridiculous."

Colt snickered for a moment, enjoying mocking Tom with his sister, before realizing that he was currently mad at her. He threw his head back with a subtle groan. "Stop doing that! I'm still mad at you!"

Parker gave her brother a blithe look. "I think you're looking at this all wrong."

"Wrong? What other way should I look at it?" he snarked. "With my eyes closed?"

Resisting the urge to smack him, Parker instead gestured to their instructor, the paintball gun in his hand, and then towards Tom. "You literally get the chance to chase down and shoot, Tom Ryder, bane of your existence or whatever. Shoot him. Think about all the welts and whining and, maybe, if you're lucky, the tears you can get out of this experience. Legally. Without getting fired or arrested. What's better than that, huh? It's your very own personal rage room."

Colt considered all of that silently. He swept his gaze from the large pile of paintball guns set off to the side, to the acres of arena in front of them with inflatable obstacles, and then to his blonde alter-ego sulking at the edge of the group.

He slung an arm around Parker's shoulder with the boyish grin. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Parker snorted, amused by his mood swings. "Not nearly enough. It's all Jody this, and Jody that anymore."

Jody, having finished listening to the instructor's demonstration, peered around Colt's shoulder to blink at the siblings. "What about me?"

Colt and Parker shared a silent look.

"Nothing," she said, whilst he cooed, "just talking about how pretty you are."

Jody blushed a bright rouge instantly, and Colt obviously took pleasure in that when he slung his other arm around her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he let out a happy sigh. "My two ladies. Paintball. The smell of tears and blood on the horizon. What better way to spend a birthday?"

Parker glanced at Jody, expecting her to roll her eyes, but the camerawoman instead just smiled with something soft in her eyes.

Parker responded by wiggling out of Colt's reach. "Ew, blegh, that's disgusting. They say cooties are contagious you know."

"What on Earth are cooties?" Jody asked.

"An STD," Colt replied, only half joking, and though Jody appeared mildly disturbed by his joke, Parker had known her brother long enough to appreciate his odd ball sense of humor. "And they're not contagious if you have a shot."

Jody, not wanting to know if he was serious or not, let it go as the group slowly filed forward to get their guns, face masks, and coveralls. They followed shortly after, snickering like kids the entire way through.

In the end, Colt and Jody both got white, while Parker and Tom were given black ones.

Karma, she supposed, is that she wouldn't be able to shoot the asshole after all.

"Somehow, this is a step up for your usual clothes," said asshole chirped, pinching the baggy material hanging at her waist between his forefinger and thumb. Parker swatted him away, only for Jean Claude to bark at her. "Easy, you want to get taken down before the game even starts?"

"Please, you're lucky we're on the same team," Parker teased. He didn't seem to buy it if the blithe look he shot her was anything to go by, and she huffed at him. "I bet I could have gotten the first hit on you if we weren't on the same team. I have mad skills at paintball, Ryder. Seal Team Six type stuff., you don't even know."

Tom rolled his eyes at the same time that Colt reappeared, face mask propped on the top of his head, looking just a tad too comfortable in his onesie. Jody and Dan flanked him, and Parker didn't like their smiles one bit.

"What?" she asked.

"You suck at paintball," Colt egged. "Remember Tallahassee? You were covered in welts for weeks!"

Tom snorted, and Parker considered him the greater threat considering the fact he was standing closer to her than Colt was. She glared at him to state, "I'm not joking. I could literally take you out. Any of you," she added with a stern point of the finger sweeping through the group. "All of you!"

Not a single person believed her.

Tom went so far as to snicker at her. "I don't buy that. for a second. You're a total klutz."

She gasped. "Am not!"

Colt raised a hand. "Are too. Remember when you broke your ankle trying to play hopscotch?"

"Just—stay out of this!"

He did not, in fact, stay out of it. "What was it you said, Park? Cause and effect? You suck at sports, and the effect of that, is you're about to go down on the course."

She blew a rather wet raspberry at her brother. "Please, if you and Tom were on the same team, I would smoke both of you."

They bickered for a moment, amusing some, but boring Tom, and the A-lister broke up their argument with a long-weary sigh. "Oi! Whose to say either of you could get a shot on me?" he taunted.

The siblings turned to face him.

"Is that a challenge?" Parker asked, hands planted on her hips, whilst Colt raised his brows.

Tom shrugged, unconcerned.

"In fact, I bet I'll make it a whole round without getting shot once," Tom tacked on, ego puffing his chest out as he smirked at the group standing around. Dan rolled his eyes, while Jody coughed into her hand to hide an obvious laugh at his showboating. "I'm serious. First one to hit me gets five hundred dollars—"

Thwack! Thwack!

Tom gaped at his chest, now dotted with one yellow and one blue splatter. Parker and Colt stood in front of him, guns still smoking, and while his eyes widened in anger, the pair of siblings were more concerned with claiming the prize to notice.

"First!" Colt cried.

"What? No fucking way," Parker argued. She waved at the yellow paint splatter haphazardly, almost taking out Jody as she did so. "I was so first. Tom! Tell him!"

Tom, now even more unamused by their bickering, blinked in wide-eyed disbelief at them both. "Are you fucking serious?" he shouted. "The game didn't even start yet!"

"But you just said—"

"I meant during a match. Christ, Parker, we're on the same team," he blustered, attempting to wipe off the paint, but only managing to smear it further down his chest like a bad Jackson Pollock painting. "Fuck!"

Colt, sensing a blow-out was coming, swung his gun behind his back with a wide eyed, innocent look. "Hey man, it was all her," he started. "Totally uncool. And immature. And, really, if you need me to smack her around a little after this I totally can."

Tom glared at Colt, effectively shutting him up in seconds, before turning to Parker. Everyone watched in baited breath, nervous what he might do, and while Parker hadn't been on set long enough to know what his meltdowns looked like, the ones most familiar with Tom were left stunned by his reaction.

Or, really, how utterly tame this one was to the hundred others they had seen.

"Are you happy now?" he asked.

Parker hemmed and hawed for a moment before deciding that honesty was the best policy. "I mean, I'd be happier if you gave me my five hundred dollars."

"I'm not paying you shit."

"Oh, come on," she rolled her eyes, popping a hip as she did so. "It's not like you're cash poor or anything. You're just upset that I shot you."

Tom gaped at her in disbelief. "No shit!"

Parker, shifting her gun over her shoulder, waved the other at him blithely. "You'll get over it once the game starts. It's—heh—surprisingly therapeutic."

"Shooting me is therapeutic?"

She paused, caught up in her own statement. "Er, well, not you exactly. Just someone, in general, you know." Parker swallowed when Tom continued to stare at her. Awkwardly, she laughed. "Just... wait till you get out there, and you'll see."

Tom remained silent, blinking at her for a long, tense, moment before he rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. And—

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

His gun went off before anyone could stop him, and Parker gaped at the trio of yellow paint that was now splattered across her chest. "Fucking ow!"

Tom smirked at her, blowing the muzzle of his gun for extra flare, before swinging it over his shoulder. "Huh. I guess you're right. I do feel better."

"Asshole!"

"Yeah, well, takes one to know one, right?" he snarked.

And—oh.

She could kill him. Really, seriously kill him.

But, well, the longer she stared at him and he stared at her, eyebrow cocked and a daring smirk in place, Parker realized above the hatred simmering in her chest, she felt something kindred and wanting flutter like butterflies. Something amused by the curve of his smirk, flushed by the scorching burn of his gaze, and—dare she think—understanding at the retaliatory strike. She had, afterall, shot first.

He had only lowered himself to her level; played by her rules.

And with a strong suspicion that Tom Ryder wasn't so much an asshole as he was just looking for someone to understand him, Parker's only response to that was to throw her head back and howl in laughter.

Despite this, no one else moved for a long moment, too busy darting their gazes between Parker and Tom in case they needed to intervene, but in an even more surprising turn of events, he laughed as well. Not so outright, and not nearly as loud, but he did. Prompted by his positive reaction, it wasn't long before Colt started to laugh, and then Jody, and then suddenly everyone was knelt at the waist in laughter.

It wasn't until their instructor honked a blow horn at them, none too amused with the pre-game warfare, that they calmed down. He honked the horn a second time at Parker and Tom, threatening to kick them out if they kept breaking the rules, and while they managed to stay straight-faced, the moment he turned his back on the group, they shared matching grins.

Maybe, she thought as they got into place, it hadn't been such a bad idea to bring him along.

And maybe, her brother thought at the exact same time, Parker and Tom being friends wasn't the end of the world.

[tropes-and-tales]

Team Prime, Part One

CW:  Unrequited love; pining; heavy angst.

Word Count:  5349

Other pieces: This is part of a mini-series.

AN:  Not beta-read; barely proof-read. An angsty companion piece to @youvebeenlivingfictional's Jake Seresin piece (and upcoming Bradley Bradshaw piece).

When your sister, Hannah, gets engaged to her long-term boyfriend, she chooses you over your other sisters to be her maid of honor.

“Maid of horrors, more like,” you grumble, but you’re secretly touched by the trust she puts in you.  She and Eric have dated since high school, and they’ve been through a lot—mostly long-distance during the years as she went to college and graduate school and as he joined the Navy.  And yet here they are.  Still together.  Still in love.  Ready to make it official-official.

“Eric’s best friend from the Navy will be the best man,” Hannah tells you.  “I met him a few times.  Bob Floyd.  He’s nice.  You’ll like him.”

Bob Floyd.  Something about the name puts you in mind of a middle aged man with strong opinions about lawn maintenance and grilling meats, so when you finally meet the baby-faced Bob with his bright blue eyes and stammering flush at the engagement party, you find yourself surprised, knocked back on your heels.

-----

You were never the sort of girl who dreamt about her wedding day, but when Hannah foists much of the wedding planning onto you, you decide then and there to elope if you ever meet someone you want to marry.

The cake tasting wouldn’t be bad, but Hannah has an entire binder of ideas she gleaned from the internet. It’s difficult to enjoy the white cake with raspberry compote, for example, when you’re worried about how the pearl luster dust will hold up under the California sun.

The venue only rents out some things in-house, so you spend two entire weekends tracking down a dance floor, chairs, linens.  You pick the wrong linens (white instead of cream), and you have a minor breakdown that night, crying in the shower at the stress of planning a party that isn’t even for you.

It’s a moment of weakness.  At the engagement party, Bob gave you his number and mumbled shyly, “if you need help.  You know, with the planning or anything.”

You hadn’t thought of it originally, but you’re tired and figure, why not reach out?  He offered to help.  Worst he can say is ‘no.’

He doesn’t say no.  He says tell me what you need.

-----

What you need:  help with the menu.  Help with the seating arrangements.  Help with the joint bachelor and bachelorette party.  

For the menu, the two of you do a whirlwind tour of the local catering companies.  Two of the three companies confuse you and Bob as the bride and groom, and you laugh to see Bob’s face turn bright red, the way he stammers to correct them.

“I apologize,” one woman tells you.  “You make a really cute couple.”

Afterwards, pleasantly stuffed from peach and goat cheese crostini and tri-tip, you reach across the driver’s seat to where Bob sits to your right.  You poke him lightly on his still-flushed cheek, call him really cute…which makes his face burn even hotter.

For the seating arrangements, he spends an evening at your apartment in Monterey.  You split a pizza and a six-pack, and you pore over the massive guest list.  You list out the people who can’t sit together—old family grudges, friendly rivalries—and you get a rough chart pulled together for Hannah’s inspection.

For the joint party—by then, you and Bob work like a well-oiled machine.  You book hotel rooms in Vegas.  You book tickets to shows, reservations to restaurants.  You book dance lessons, since Hannah insists that everyone in the wedding party learn how to not stumble around the dance floor for the first dances.  You send out itineraries, details.  You collect money.  

When it’s done, you sit back on your couch and heave a sigh of relief.  Your head lolls back, and you turn to look at Bob.

“Team Prime strikes again,” he says with a soft smile, and you hold up a hand for a high five.  It’s an inside joke between the two of you, a dumb joke about how you’re the first bridesmaid and he’s the first groomsman, the best of the best, the chosen-above-all-others.  The Primes.

“Hell yeah we did,” you reply with an answering smile, and that’s when you first feel it:  the pleasant little dip in your stomach at the sight of his smile, his blue eyes.  The first little tremor of infatuation.  Of burgeoning love.

-----

Two months pass, and after the initial press of planning, things stabilize.  With Bob Floyd’s help, the wedding plans firm up, and you can breathe.

You stay in touch.  You trade daily texts, checking in on each other.  Sharing funny memes.  Talking about movies you’ve seen, books you’ve read.  Joking on the side about the main wedding party group chat.

Then the bachelor and bachelorette party in Vegas in upon you.  You text Bob about your fear of flying.

Reassure me that it’s safe, you plead via text.  Tell me I’m safer flying than driving.

You’re safer flying than driving.

You snort.  Funny, you type back.

He doesn’t text anything in reply.  Instead, he calls you.

Bob Floyd, graduate of Top Gun, walks you through the physics of flight.  His soft voice, his slight drawl that comes out when he’s comfortable….he soothes you with his matter-of-fact discussion of lift and thrust, of yaw and roll.  He tells you that planes are stringently designed to be safe, maintained for safety.  That pilots train rigorously while any dumbass can fumble their way into a driver’s license.

He talks to you for an hour.  He doesn’t quite talk you out of your fear; he doesn’t slay that dragon entirely, but he makes it smaller.  Less scary.

“We’re on the same flight out tomorrow,” he points out.  “We can try to switch seats and sit together.”

That first little dip in your stomach was nothing compared to the roiling now.  It’s such a damned cliché, yet here you are:  the maid of honor falling for the best man.  Like a stupid Hallmark movie, yet you can’t stop the wide grin from splitting your face.

The next morning, you are able to switch seats after all, and for the entire short flight to Vegas, Bob holds your clammy hand in his, twists himself in his seat so that he can talk to you, low and soft, explaining each bump and lurch of the plane, making them seem like nothing scary at all.

-----

“You’re more sure on your feet than I would have expected,” you tease, and Bob gifts you a shy smile as he turns you gracefully across the dance floor.

“I guess I’m full of surprises.”

You hum in agreement, then look around the studio at the other coupled-off bridesmaids and groomsmen. After an hour-long lesson in ballroom dancing, few people other than you and Bob have grasped the steps of the easy waltz.

Two couples have given up altogether and are standing haplessly where they stopped on the dance floor.  One couple is sorta doing their own thing, that awkward swaying shuffle that kids used to do at middle school dances.

Hannah and Eric are giving it an honest shot, but even from where you and Bob are, you can hear them bickering over who needs to lead, over which step is next.  You glance at your own partner and see him watching them too.  There’s a faint frown on his face.

“I think we’re the best dancers of the bunch,” he whispers, conspiratorial.  

“I think you’re right,” you whisper back.

He turns his gaze back to you, and his returning smile makes his blue eyes crinkle at the corners.  “Do you think if we show them up, they’ll kick us out of the wedding party?” he jokes.

“Oh, please,” you groan.�� “If there’s even a chance, I say we go for it.  I’m so damned tired of earnest, late-night discussions about freesias and cake toppers.”

He laughs, and he squeezes your hand lightly as he turns you, an advanced move the instructor showed you earlier.  “It can’t be that bad.”

You settle back into his hold and look at him.  He’s been the most surprising part of the entire miserable wedding planning, this buddy of the groom that you’ve been paired with.  Not a typical military guy at all.  Bob is too sweet, too kind, too polite to be a complete dork…but even if he was, you’d still like him.  He’s an easy guy to like.  An easy guy to fall for.

“Nah,” you reply.  “It’s not that bad at all.”

-----

The first day in Vegas is dance lessons and a nice dinner.  The second day is a helicopter tour, which you politely skip, and then dinner and then dancing at a club.  You and Bob had managed to book a VIP space, and you both volunteered to stay sober to help wrangle the drunks at the end of the night.

So for the first day and much of the second, you remain ignorant.  You lean into all the feelings of your growing infatuation, but it doesn’t feel like your usual harmless crush.  You like Bob Floyd.  You really like him.  There’s not a single ounce of artifice to him—he is genuinely just himself.  Smart.  Driven, in a quiet, steady way.  Kind and funny.  Despite his outwardly nerdy appearance, he seems fairly comfortable with who he is.  He possesses a quiet confidence that you’ve never noticed in a man before.

You’ve dated in the past.  You even had a semi-serious boyfriend, dated him for three years and talked vaguely of getting engaged, getting married.  But nothing ever came of it; neither of you felt that elusive tug on the heartstrings that the other person was the one.  So you broke it off amicably, and a month later, he met his would-be wife.

You remain single, and it rarely bothers you.  You’re alone but not lonely, and you like your own company.  You have your sisters.  You have your coworkers and friends.  

But in meeting Bob Floyd, you start to see the possibilities of finding someone and building a life with them…as long as that someone is…well…Bob Floyd.

For the first day and much of the second, you lean into the burgeoning fantasy.  You play out how the wedding day will be.  The reception.  You wonder if Hannah will aim her bouquet toss at you, and if Eric will aim the garter at Bob.  You wonder if there will be a moment on the dance floor, or maybe somewhere quieter.  If Bob doesn’t make a move, you decide, you will.  

The night at the club starts out great.  The VIP area is elevated and set apart, so you can watch the dance floor but still have space to yourself.  The champagne flows, then everyone switches to liquor.  You and Bob are like hovering parents, easing glasses of water into people’s hands, checking in with them to make sure they are still coherent, cognizant.

It’s so damned easy to fall into the fantasy for these last few moments.  There’s a sort of fraternity among the sober people in the club or bar:  the clear, alert eyes that find each other.  The knowing head nod, the little shrugs as if to say, “what can you do?” as you corral and tend to your drunken charges.  

You and Bob—you catch each other’s eyes as you get a fresh pitcher of water.  You smile at each other in the dim club lights.  He rolls his eyes once, elaborate, and you laugh.

And when he wants to talk to you, he stands close, dips his head.  Puts his mouth right near your ear so he doesn’t have to shout over the bassline, and that sets a low, licking flame of desire deep in your core, his warm breath fanning over you as he gently makes fun of your sisters, the other groomsmen.  You wonder what he would do if you kissed him, if you took his hand after everyone was tucked in their beds and drew him into your room.  Maybe you could kiss him, you think, you could press even a soft kiss to his cheek and see how he reacts.  Maybe you could—

“I told Eric I don’t want any of this,” Bob says.  You turn and look at him, and he gestures broadly with his hand.  At the bridal party, half-debauched and fully drunk.  At the wider space of the dark, loud club.

“Sorry?” 

He dips his head near your ear again.  “I said, I already told Eric I don’t want a big production.”

“For what?” you ask, but you already know—your body already knows, even if your brain hasn’t quite caught up.  The flickering heat of your nascent arousal is doused, and your stomach flips like you might throw up.

“For my bachelor’s party.  I just want a beer and poker night.  Nothing wild.  My fiancée would kill me anyway, but laid-back is more my scene.”

“For your…” you start to say, and then your brain catches up.  “Oh.  Oh.”

And then sweet, unassuming Bob Floyd tells you all about her:  the high school sweetheart, the long-distance fiancée who is finishing up grad school.  The woman finally ready to set a date and make it official-official after all these years.

The woman who will be Bob Floyd’s wife someday soon.

“Congratulations,” you manage to say, and you manage to make it sound convincing, and then you manage to make it to the restroom where you clutch the edge of the sink in a white-knuckle grip.  You manage to take deep, gulping breaths as you choke down your sudden, bitter disappointment.

-----

Bob, Eric, most of the bridal party…they don’t really know you, so it’s easy to mask how you’re feeling.

Your sisters?  Hannah?  They recognize your poor acting performance from the start.

They must have conferred together, and they must have elected Hannah as their spokeswoman because on the second to last morning, she comes to your room, links her arm through yours, and says, “let’s grab breakfast, just you and me.”  Her voice has that artificial cheeriness to it, so you guess what’s up.

“I’m not hungry.”  You tug your arm from hers, turn away from her.  You walk over to the window and peek out around the curtains to see the sun about to rise, the sky a pink wash of color.

“Bullshit.  You’re always hungry.”  Hannah follows you into the room, and at the window, she wraps an arm around your waist, hugs you from behind.  A few inches taller than you, she hooks her chin on your shoulder and gazes out the window too.

“My stomach is off,” you lie.  “I think I ate a bad oyster at that buffet.”

She hums, doesn’t reply for a long moment.  The two of you watch the sun break the line of the horizon, washing the cityscape in a bright yellow light.  

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” Hannah asks.  “I know I’ve been a lot the past few months, but I’m always here for you.  Always.”

You swallow thickly against the lump in your throat.  “I know.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

You don’t bother to deny it.  You nod.

“You love him?”

You shrug, jostle her where she’s perched on your shoulder.  “I thought I did.”

Another hum, another beat of silence.  “Probably wouldn’t hurt so bad if you didn’t love him.”

“What makes you think I’m hurting?”

“You’re my little sister.  I know when you’re in pain.”

You huff out a quiet breath, a near-laugh.  “When did you get so damned wise?”

She chuckles, squeezes her arms comfortingly around your waist.  “I was born wise.”

You sigh, lean your head against hers.  “That makes one of us.”

Hannah squeezes you again, then lays a smacking kiss on your cheek before releasing you.  “C’mon,” she says.  “Seriously, let me take you out for breakfast.  Everything seems easier on a full stomach.”

“Hannah—”

She’s a few inches taller than you, and she’s much stronger.  She man-handles you away from the window, turns you around to face her.

“I’m the bride-to-be.  You can’t tell me no,” she teases, but then her expression turns serious as she studies you closer.

“You know there’s someone out there just waiting for you,” she adds, somber, and she gazes at you so earnestly that tears prickle in your eyes, and before you can stop yourself, you start to cry.

-----

It’s dumb, you decide.  A dumb crush.

You’ve known the man a handful of months.  He was helpful, and you were stressed, so maybe the help seemed outsized.  Bob Floyd is just a regular guy, you decide, and you got wrapped up in his orbit because he seemed nice and kind and helpful and funny.  Which he is all of those things, but to fall in love over it?

Dumb.  Dumb, dumb, dumb.

You make the decision over breakfast with Hannah.  Your wise older sister.  She’s right, you think:  life seems a little less unbearable when your stomach is full of eggs benedict and mimosa.

The rest of the day is sightseeing before another group dinner that evening.  It’s your last day and night in Vegas; you fly out in the morning.  You and Bob are on the same flight home, and you think—you honestly think—that you can get through it.  

It’s just a crush.  It will die off soon enough.

But over the course of the day, once the group has reconvened, Bob sticks close to you.  He’s always right there.  He’s in your line of sight, or right at your shoulder, close enough that you can hear his quiet breathing, or when he chuckles under his breath.  Close enough to smell the cleanly masculine scent of him.

You aren’t sure why he never mentioned being engaged before.  You suppose it never came up naturally, even though the two of you did the bulk of the wedding planning together.  There were a hundred opportunities, you guess, for him to say, “oh, I’ll have to keep this in mind for my own wedding” or “I should tell my fiancée about this.”

Over the course of the day, and now that the fact of his own engagement is out, Bob chats with you about it. You get the entire fucking story.  High school sweethearts who broke up briefly when they went to college in separate states.   How they reconnected over summer vacation their sophomore year.  How they’ve been together ever since.  

How Bob proposed once and was rejected.  “It was too soon,” he tells you with a rueful shake of his head, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from pointing out that when he proposed, the two of them had been dating for years.

How Bob joined the Navy.  How he kept his budget tight to save up for a better ring.  How his fiancée—Jessica, her name is—finally said yes.  

And now, he tells you how the engagement has stretched on and on, so much so that his parents stopped teasing him and started asking when the hell he and Jessica are going to finish the thing.

“Eric and Hannah,” he says, jerking his chin in their direction.  “They were the kick in the ass we needed.  Once they got engaged, we finally set a date.”

“Yeah?”  Your voice comes out a rough croak, and you’re grateful for the huge sunglasses hiding your eyes from him.

“Next June.  A little more than a year from now.”

You force a smile.  “That sounds lovely.”

Bob nods, then grins at you.  “All this planning, it was good practice for me.  Now I know what to look for in a caterer and a linen-rental company.”

“I’m glad.”  You try to keep your voice light, conversational, but something in your tone must clue him in that something is off.  His grin fades, and he peers at you closer through his thick glasses, his blue eyes swimming behind the lenses.

“Everything okay?  You seem…off.”

You force the smile back on your face, and you swallow back the shakiness in your voice.  Of course Bob would notice that you aren’t yourself.  Any other guy wouldn’t even register your more taciturn nature over the past few days, but Bob seems to miss very little, and he’s kind enough to care, to ask after you.

“Just tired.  I never sleep well in a hotel room.”

He peers at you a moment longer, then nods, but his expression looks doubtful.  “You should head back to the room early and rest,” he advises.  

It’s a good idea.  It would get you away from him, at least.  You nod, and then you go to find Hannah, tell her you’re dipping out early and will meet back up for dinner.

-----

It’s the final dinner when you finally snap.  You reach the end of your ability to sit and smile and nod your head, and your earlier bravado melts away.

Of course Bob sits beside you.  Of course Hannah and Eric are the picture of true, enduring love.  Of course you’re feeling sorry for yourself, positively maudlin, and then Bob—between bites of steak—tells you that Jessica can make it to the wedding after all, and not to worry because Hannah was able to find space for her at the reception.

“No need to redo those seating charts,” he chuckles, and then he tells you how excited he is for you to meet Jessica, how much he’s told her about the wedding planning, how much he’s learned, how much he can’t wait to get started on his own wedding planning.

It’s too much.  Too much to take.  You nod weakly at him, push your own meal around your plate with the tines of your fork.  You keep your head bent, and you miss the looks people start to shoot at each other as they finally notice that the usually-chatty, usually-chipper maid of honor has gone sullen and silent.

It’s Hannah who gets up, makes a show of saying she needs to use the restroom.  When you lift your head to look at her, she makes a “come along” gesture, and you stand up and follow her.

In the bathroom, she cups your face and stares at you, frowns.  

“You look like shit,” she declares after a beat.  “Seriously, are you okay?”

“’m fine,” you lie.

“I know you’re not.  Why don’t we get out of here, huh?  Get some air?”

You shake your head.  “It’s the last night here.  Please don’t…don’t let me ruin it.”

She laughs, then smushes your cheeks together.  “You couldn’t ruin it if you tried.  C’mon…you did all the shit-work for me, planning this wedding.  The least I can do is get you out of here.”

You shake your head again, more emphatic.  “No.  Why don’t I just go?  You can make up an excuse that I’m not feeling well.”  You bite your lip, swallow hard against the lump in your throat.  “I just can’t be around him anymore right now.  I just need space to get my head right.”

“Oof, you got it bad,” she says with a sympathetic cluck of her tongue, but then she nods.  “Why don’t I go grab your purse, and then I’ll make something up.”

You offer her a shaky smile.  “Thank you.”

She nods again, then kisses your forehead, more motherly than sisterly.  Hannah always had a maternal streak to her as the eldest sister, always was the first to tend to you and your sisters’ scraped knees and bruised hearts.  She’ll be the family’s matriarch someday, you realize:  the person who will hold you all together, who will gather you up for holidays and celebrations and moments of grief long after your parents are gone.

“A little distance from Bob Floyd will cure what ails you,” she jokes, and you have to agree.  Tomorrow you’re supposed to fly out with Bob, and the thought of his hand in yours, his reassuring voice right by your ear…you can’t do it.  You’ll snap and say something you won’t be able to take back.

That evening, in the hotel room, you call the airline and cancel your ticket.  You book a rental car instead.

-----

You don’t see Bob Floyd again.  The two of you are supposed to meet in the lobby the next morning to share a ride to the airport, but you wake up earlier and leave alone, bound for the rental car part of the airport.

Decided to drive back, you text Bob.  Enjoy your flight and thanks for all your help!

He doesn’t text you back.  He calls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, and for the first time since you’ve met him, his voice is deeper, edged in real concern.  “You’re driving back to California?  It’s eight hours or more.”

“I just wanted to clear my head.”  It’s not a lie, and the reason falls easily from your lips.

“But you’ve not been sleeping well, and you were sick last night,” he points out.  “Should you even be driving?  Flying is safer anyway, and it’s only a two hour flight—”

You cut him off gently.  You tell him that you’ve already cancelled your ticket, that an eight-hour drive is nothing.  That you want a little alone time to think.  That a road trip through the desert with the music blasting is sometimes just the cure for what ails.

“I promise I’m okay to drive.”  You’re touched by his concern, and you realize that your bravado was false, that it isn’t just a dumb crush.  Bob Floyd is a genuinely good man.  Of course you fell for him.

And if it isn’t just a dumb crush, then the only way to handle it is to endure it.  There’s no cure but time.

“Well, let me know when you make it home,” he finally concedes.  “Team Prime looks out for its own.”

You smile in spite of your crushing self-pity.  “Team Prime.  I’ll text you when I’m back.”

You end the call, and you situate yourself in your rental car.  Challenging situations always make you want to flee, but you were right too:  a road trip is a good time to think, to turn over your muddle thoughts and sort them out.  To clear the head, ease the heart.  

You pull out into the Nevada sunshine and turn towards home:  the sun rising at your back in the east, and maybe the possibility of finding love, as Hannah said, to the west.

*****

Bob frowns when you cut that call, and for the entire plane ride home (the seat beside him still empty; there were no standbys), he mulls it over.

You had been so gregarious, so funny and sweet in the months since he’s met you.  Despite the overwhelming pressure of the wedding planning, you were level-headed.  Managed to joke about it all.  When he stepped in to help, you thanked him profusely, called him a life-saver, called him your hero.  

It was easy to let it get to his head, a little.  People rarely noticed Lieutenant Robert Floyd, and it made him feel good to be seen by such a sweetly cheerful woman.

Something happened in Vegas, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.  It’s like a switch was thrown.  The chipper demeanor disappeared, but it wasn’t like you were sullen or angry.  You seemed pained, almost, on the verge of tears a few times that he noticed.  You tried to pretend you were okay, and that made it sadder, more perplexing.  Whatever you were going through, you were trying to power through it, hide it.

He tried to draw you out by talking about his own impending wedding, talking about Jessica…but after a while, something about that line of conversation made his stomach dip and twist unpleasantly.  

He had been looking forward to the flight home.  That got to his head too, the way you clung to his hand the entire flight to Vegas, the way you needed him to get through it.  The shaky exhale you gave when the plane finally touched down.  The shaky, embarrassed laugh, then the half-hug in your seats, the two of you twisted towards each other, as you wrapped your arm around his shoulders and thanked him profusely.

He likes being needed, he finds.  Not in an extreme way, or an unhealthy codependent way.  He just likes being needed by someone once in a while, for little things like that—sketching out a seating chart, being a bulwark against a fear of flying.  Jessica never seems to need him, and it—

Bob pushes the thought out of his head.  He won’t compare the two of you.  He won’t.

The entire flight home, he mulls you over.  The drive back to base too.  He calls Jessica to hear her voice and he gives her the abridged version of the Vegas trip.  He runs errands:  restocks his refrigerator, does laundry, presses his uniform shirts and pants.  He goes for a jog, then hits the gym on base, lifts until his arms burn.

He goes home and showers, and then he settles in front of the TV.  He dozes off and wakes in the middle of the night with a start, his heart hammering in his chest and the taste of pennies in his mouth.

He has no idea what’s wrong until he checks his phone, notes the time…and notes that you haven’t called or texted.

Bob scrubs his face with his hands.  He makes his way to the bathroom, splashes himself with water.  He studies his own reflection, and even with his glasses off, he can see the worry writ all over his expression.

Maybe she got tired and pulled off for the night, he thinks.  Or maybe she just forgot to let me know she’s home.

That’s what he imagines when he moves to his bed and tries to fall back asleep—he imagines you home in your own apartment, the cozy little space that is so perfectly you.  He imagines you returning the rental car, showering off the road dust, then turning in for a long, well-earned sleep.

When he finally drifts off, his dreams are unsettling, and he wakes early, coated in a thin sheen of sweat despite the AC running at top capacity.

“Something’s wrong,” he mutters aloud to the empty bedroom.  He can feel it in his gut.  Something is off, and just as he makes up his mind to call you, to check in on you, even if it’s rude and even if he wakes you up, his phone lights up with an incoming call.

From Eric.

Eric, his best friend, his oldest friend.  Eric, who rarely calls and who prefers to text.  Eric, who only calls—especially at four-thirty in the morning—when there’s bad news.  

Eric, the most unflappable man that Bob has ever known, openly, obviously trying to hide the tears in his voice.  In the background, Bob can hear a woman crying—Hannah—as Eric relays the news:  the only other member of Team Prime, the best of the best like him, was struck in a head-on collision by a speeding driver.  

That you were life-flighted to the nearest trauma center, but that the prospects for your survival are so bleak that the attending surgeon told your father over the phone to not entertain much hope.  That the doctor asked if you had a religion, if there was perhaps a priest or pastor or rabbi…someone who might come and offer final blessing, last rites, whatever.

“We’re trying to get everyone here,” Eric says.  “Dude, what do I…I mean, what can I even do?  If a doctor says…fuck, Bob, I don’t know what to do—”

Bob says the only thing he can think of, an echo of what he texted to you all those months ago.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, and he keeps his voice level despite the emotion—shock, sorrow, burgeoning guilt—coursing through him like electricity.  “Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

[starryyskies]

Lil update in case y’all care ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

I’m moving from my shit apartment starting the beginning of august, and my current semester ends near august 13th. My next semester starts almost 2 weeks after (classes start on the 22nd but it’s good to get it started earlier since most classes open early).

Hopefully by then I’ll be moved out, feel more organized and less stressed, and manage my time a bit better.

Classes are going well despite being super fucking stressful, I’m at the very least passing for now lol

But as for drawing, besides that one doodle I finished and coloured, I haven’t been able to do anything at all. It really disappoints me because I see all this amazing art and my fomo (fear of missing out) gets so bad lol. But I am being responsible and doing my best (╥ᆺ╥；)

Thank you guys for your support and kindness and understanding ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

So in case you’re curious my struggles currently read below lol

So, the place I work at, my store is a corporation and we’ve been basically getting babysat by managers from other stores who are also watching their own store, getting paid a shit amount for creating and maintaining not just the scheduling for both stores, but also managing any issues that arise. So we’re on our 4th manager now, and while he’s the sweetest and fucking raddest manager of all times, he is doing the bare minimum for our store. And trust me, I do NOT blame him. To be honest, he is getting paid salary for being a manager of his own store, and it’s like 56k a year or something which isn’t bad at all. But watching a completely different store?

75. Dollars. A WEEK?! That is LITERALLY a slap in the face. That is the CEO saying a big ass fuck you to its employees. So of course he’s doing the bare minimum. Coping and pasting parts of the schedule, he never comes into our store, and while he’s attentive when it comes to issues, he’s our only source of upper management support we have.

We have workers who have worked with the company for 3+ years, 8+ years, and 20 years. They know what they’re doing, but when I am running the shift by myself, I can’t rely on my coworkers to get back to me, because they are not obligated to.

So the schedule is pretty awful sometimes. Sometimes we’re over staffed when we could’ve used the help other times, sometimes we’re severely understaffed. Like for example, today was a shit show. We had 3 people during our busiest time. (I work at a coffee shop) and so we have one person on register who also takes care of the food and packs the deliveries, and then one person on the coffee bar is not enough to handle the amount of drinks they get, so I was basically running back and forth to support both positions while also making sure my coworkers got their breaks. Icing on the cake was when we realized it was way too hot inside the cafe and learned our AC is broken AGAIN! It was 84 degrees before I left work. That is miserable running around taking care of hot drinks and food.

This is something I deal with at least 2 times a week

While also doing school work full time, having a strict deadline to follow to submit assignments (thankfully it’s all online so I can be somewhat flexible)

And on top of all of that, I’m moving in 2 weeks, school finals will be going on by then, and life has been kicking my family in the ass.

My step dad, who I’ve know since I was 6-7, he’s been that second dad to me, I think of him as a hero. He unfortunately has been diagnosed with single cell lung cancer. It had spread to his ribs and femur. While he’s still fighting and going through aggressive treatment, I’m not sure what the outcome will be. He’s putting on a strong face, so I can’t tell how serious it is.

My grandfather is also in the hospital. He’s had a heart condition that requires him to wear an AED pacemaker in his chest, and recently it was used because he had a seizure. He’s not doing too well, and who knows what will happen.

Oh! And my older sister’s wedding is IN TWO MONTHS! I’m the damn maid of honor, and I do nottttt like the attention. She’s the kinda person who likes big fancy weddings but she’s doing her best financially to make it happen, though she also was promoted to manager for her store (we work for the same company) and going through that crazy long training is surly not fun lol.

But anyway, thanks for reading my rambles. Sometimes I feel like nobody really cares but I get reminded that there are people out there who are wondering how I am. So this is for you people

(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[darkness-and-books]

Egon x reader incorrect quotes (???)

At a speed dating event Egon: Oh wow, people are really shallow. Y/N: Consider it a background check. For example: Do you have a death certificate? Egon: Checks their pulse Sorry, not yet. Y/N: Good, I'm not fucking a ghost again.

Egon : What did Peter do this time? Y/N: More like WHO did Peter do this time?

Egon : We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you? Y/N: …You realise any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

Egon : What are you in the mood for? Y/N: World domination. Egon : That's a bit ambitious. Y/N: You are my world. Egon : Aww… Y/N: Egon : Y/N: Egon : OH.

Egon: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake. Y/N : Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear. Egon: … Egon: You mean ring bearER, right? Y/N : … Egon: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

[saltpepperbeard]

OBLIGATORY COMPLETE OFMD SEASON 2 TRAILER THOUGHTS AND RAMBLES POST™

Woo boy this is going to be a long one, and I mean, A LONG ONE LMAO. And, of course, all in good fun; i simply just Have To Scream and Incessantly Ramble. So, if you'd like to scream along with me, and read through an ESSAY OF THOUGHTS HERE SHDKJSDHS-

I just have to start things off with my babygirl. With the babygirlest of babygirls. LOOK at that pining. INSANE levels of pining. "When will my husband return from the war" levels of it, quite frankly PFFF. And with the hair back and the slut strands out too like???

I will say, it's very interesting to see him pining like this out in the open. I very much expected him to say locked away in his cabin most of the time, and stay entirely masked whenever he's out. But it seems like he makes STEPS towards healing rather early into the season, as the Kraken Getup seems to drop pretty quick. So, I'm very interested to know how that'll play into his dynamic with other characters (Fang, for example, seems to take notice, based on the comment he makes in the next screenie).

regardless, babygirl you're so strong and beautiful and i'm wrapping you in a blanket, kissing you on the forehead, and express shipping your man RIGHT into your arms. it'll get better, i promise.

but no really i'm going insane because like...just when edward teach couldn't get anymore beautiful, he really decides to pull up with a MESSY BUN???

HIIIIIII FANGY HI FRENCHIE HELLLOOOO MY SWEETHEARTS <3

I don't talk about Fang nearly as much as I should because I love him so much. I think getting a hug from him would Heal Me, actually. Like please hsdjkss he's so sweet- "I've never seen Blackbeard like this 🥺." CAN I GET HIM A PUPPY? I'M GETTING HIM A PUPPY.

Also please are they eating cake hsdksjks. ARE THEY EATING WEDDING CAKE. Imagine your raid is to crash a wedding, steal cake toppers, and then eat what's left of the wedding cake jskdhsdjkls. DREAM JOB???

AND THEN THIS. HOOOOO BOY. HOOOOOOOOOOO BOY.

when i tell y'all i am Foaming At The Mouth over this. Like, it obviously guts me to see Stede crying, but it makes me SO intrigued to know what made him come to the more stark realization, what made him flip from optimistic and bitchy to more somber and pained.

There SEEMS to be some sort of shift sometime around when he sees Ed's wanted poster, because there's that shot of him looking melancholic in the rain. But it doesn't quite seem as stark as THIS.

It makes me wonder if it's a gradual assembly of puzzle pieces, ie finding out about the marooning, then Lucius, then Ed's scourge across the Caribbean, etc etc. And it slooooowly dawns on him that his decision to leave in order to keep Ed happy ended up doing EXACTLY the opposite.

OR, I wonder if this is following the reunion—a PAINFUL one at that. Like, maybe he still was going into it a bit idyllic, and was holding onto the hope that it would still be alright...only for Ed to react poorly/in a way he never anticipated to see. He went into it maybe with a bit of anxiety, but ultimately leaned on the denial...only to have all the fears confirmed.

Or maybe it's a mixture of both. But either way, it's SO so interesting to see him have to SIT with it all. And even though it hurts to see HIM hurt, I'm actually very glad they addressed this and made him feel the heavier weight.

...Only to transition right into silliness here with this shot dHJKSDKLS. ed babe listen i get it. i Get It. i'm right there with you, babe.

BUT ALSO, makes me wonder what he was smoking in his pipe beforehand. Or maybe it was the transition from pipe to a straight BLUNT that got him shdjksd. Or MAYBE it was just ~*~the sapphic kush~*~ that took him out PFFFF. wlw on mlm violence idk.

SPEAKING of which...

here we go, lesbians. here we go, lesbians, come on. oH MY GOD, LESBIANS,,,

do you think anne and mary want me

BUT OKAY LMAO THESE TWO,,,

With that whole shot where it looks like Anne just kissed Stede, and the way they're both 👀👀 at Ed and Stede having their tense little interaction, I have to wonder if their gaydars go off and one or both subsequently decide to stir shit up PFFFF. Like, causing chaos by making Ed/Stede jealous type deal. And maybe Anne kissing Stede is what makes Ed choke on the blunt sdhkshdks WHO KNOWS.

Regardless, very excited to see the pairs interact. WHO KNOWS WHAT SORT OF MLM WLW SHENANIGANS WILL HAPPEN SDKJS.

And ALSO in relation to that scene, I just have to shdjksdhljksdkls over the editing because it took me out. Ed being like "And more importantly, no more Stede >:)" only to show his little wedding topper doll with Stede's subsequent "HULLOOO, IDWAD."

Killed me. KILLED ME DEAD. And also, a neat little way of editing call Ed out on his bullshit REAL FAST HSDJKSL. like, honey, you can try, but you know full and damn well that silly little guy has burrowed into the deepest chambers of your heart. he has your heart and you have his, WHOOPS.

Ricky, right? This is Ricky??

"WHEN I CATCH YOU, RICKY. RICKY, WHEN I CATCH YOU, RICKY..."

So okay, a nose prosthesis is metal as hell, but that means we ALLLLLL know who he got tangled with PFFF. And I believe we see him in the Republic of Pirates talking to Stede and Co??? So I'm very VERY interested to see how that all devolves, and how he goes from vibing to wanting to throw hands.

Unless he was like, on some sort of reconnaissance mission for the British in the first place.

But I digress. RICKY, WHEN I CATCH YOU, RICKY. RICKY, WHEN I CATCH YOU HSDJKLSLKS

...The way I missed this SEVERAL times over, and didn't even see it until someone else pointed it out in another post.

IZZY WITH A HOOF PEGLEG. PRESUMABLY FROM THE UNICORN. BECAUSE WHERE ELSE WOULD THEY GET A WOODEN HOOF HSDKLJS.

But that also has me like 👁️👁️ for SO many different reasons. How did he lose a good portion of his leg? Was Stede the one to offer up the unicorn leg as a pegleg?

And TRULY, WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH HIM AND STEDE ANYWAY HSDKJLS LIKE I STILL CAN'T EVEN WRAP MY MIND FULLY AROUND THAT ONE,,,

My running theory is still that like...Izzy wanted a very specific version of Blackbeard. Izzy wanted someone who no longer exists, or maybe never existed to begin with. And so Izzy thought he was doing right by taking Stede out of the picture and nudging Ed back into a more viscous type of pirating...

Only for that to COMPLETELY backfire, and for Ed to get far more unstable. And like, something something Izzy was already complaining about Ed's "erratic moods" and "questionable decisions" BEFORE Stede came into the picture, so I doubt he's going to be content with Ed's turmoil and all the impulsivity that'll likely come with it.

So maybe, MAYBE, I'm thinking he'll have a bit of growth by realizing that Ed and Stede need each other, or maybe that Ed was way happier when things were smoother between him and Stede, at least. And knowing him and his characterization lol, it might not even be a selfless realization/decision. Maybe he'll only be doing it because he wants a less emotional version of Ed, and thinks that having Stede around and being cordial with him will allow that to happen.

And maybe it leads to even MORE growth when he gets roped into training Stede/the crew idk.

Regardless, REGARDLESS, they are one of the last pairs I ever expected to team up, because they were ACTIVELY bitching at each other all through last season HSDJKS.

HI AGAIN OLU MY SWEET LOVELY OLU MY SWEETHEART DARLING <3

BUT WHO ARE WE FIGHTING, SIR. WHAT'S THE TEA????

I'm not 100% certain, but it SEEMS like this is at Jackie's, or at least in the Republic of Pirates somewhere. And based on Ricky's injury, and also other little tidbits of footage, it SEEMS like something goes down there. Maybe some sort of scuffle between the Navy and our guys or something equivalent that snowballs into even ~*~Larger Problems~*~

SEE BECAUSE YEAH—EXPLOSIONS?? CANNON FIRE??? WHAT'RE Y'ALL DOIIINNNGGG LMAO.

And it's so wild because I definitely see Olu (with the CROCS OFC LMAO) and Pete, and then I THINK I see Lucius and Izzy in that mix too??? So like,,,

WHAT DID Y'ALL GET TANGLED IN SDHJKSKLS. AND WHERE IN THE SEASON WOULD THIS FALL??????

Oh this hurts lol. This one hurts. This one hurts a LOT. Stede Bonnet stop breaking my heart Challenge: impossible.

Because that's his home. That's his soul placed into a ship. That's the conglomeration of his hope, and heart, and adventure, and family,,,

And it's in RUINS.

LIKE, CAN THINGS STOP GOING BADLY FOR HIM ACTUALLY HSDKJS. CAN HE STOP GETTING DECKED BY HIS TRAUMA OVER AND OVER AND OVER. BECAUSE,,,

Fresh off the "you defile beautiful things/you're a monster/you're a failure/you ruin everything you touch" train, and he comes back to this. And if this is after he reunites with Ed and realizes things are bad, then man, that'll be even WORSE.

LIKE, NUMEROUS CHAMBERS OF HIS HEART HAVE BEEN SHREDDED. HIS HOME AND HEART ARE BROKEN.

mmMMmmmMMMMMM DAVID CAN WE MAYBE NOT <3 SHDJKLSKS

BUT, off we go cartwheeling from that footage to a VERY interesting bit of dialogue from Stede:

"The entire escape relies on this."

Escape?? ESCAPE???

Here I was thinking they enlisted they help of the Red Flag Fleet and/or Susan to try and catch up with the Revenge. So, ESCAPE???????

Did they get captured? Snatched up from the Republic of Pirates or something equivalent? Does someone have beef with Ed and holds Stede and Co hostage because they're trying to aid him?

OR, are they voluntarily on that ship to hide/lay low from the Navy or something, but their cover has been blown, and they have to quickly flee back onto the Revenge?

Very very inch resting whatever the case.

...

STEDE. FOOKIN. BONNET,,,

🧎🧎🧎🧎🧎🧎

LIKE SIR, WHAT THE FUCK SHDSKD, Y'KNOW??? WITH THE STIDDIES OUT AND THE EARRING AND THE SCRUFF,,,

GOD LMAO. JESUS CHALUPA. CEASE.

like, you're telling me ed is going to see him like this and isn't going to IMMEDIATELY drop and start tying his hair into a ponytail? mmmMMKAY

BUT OKAY—ACTUALLY, that joke sort of brings me to a more angsty theory, because of course it does lol. I have to wonder if Stede is dressing like this because he legitimately wants to, OR, if it's because he feels like he has to.

Like, something something he's trying to do everything he can to win respect and establish himself and ALSO win back his man. And, something something he is ONCE AGAIN doing what HE thinks Ed wants, as opposed to what Ed might ACTUALLY want. Like, "Oh, he's a notorious pirate. He'll like me again if I have a little more gruff and backbone, right? That's what pirates like, right???"

LIKE NO YOU DOOFUS HSDSHDS HE LOVES YOU AS YOU ARE, JUST AS YOU LOVE HIM HOW HE IS. AND HE DREAMS OF DRESSING IN A DRESS WHEN MARRYING YOU. SO LIKE,,,

IF THAT IS INDEED THE CASE, I'M BEATING ED TO THE CHASE AND HEADBUTTING HIM MYSELF HSDKJLSDS.

*grumbling* even though it's a very VERY good look on him, so i hope it's more on his own volition.

I just want him to feel comfortable as HIMSELF, and feel like he doesn't have to perform/conform to anything. And I think there's something very deeply queer about him and Ed BOTH going through that. They're BOTH trying to figure themselves out and what they're comfortable with and who they want to be. And I hope that, IF this is his look, it's something that HE wants entirely.

((Which makes me raise my eyebrows a bit more because of the Cunty Red Jacket. Because he's CUNT. And also his curls are more pronounced when he wears that too. SooOOOoooOOO?????? VERY interested to see what he wants, and where he comfortably settles))

AND GODDDDDD ONTO YET ANOTHER VERY EYEBROW RAISING PART LMAO.

So, we've seen that shot of someone falling into the water like 80 million times at this point. And this trailer ALSO showed an additional shot of said person SINKING into the gloom. At least, I THINK it was the same person/connected. Again, could be a total misdirect lol.

And then we've seen all the blue-tinted shots of Ed off on his own somewhere, fight someone/something all the while being accompanied by some unknown figure.

And BECAUSE of the tinting/consistent lighting, and BECAUSE of the figure accompanying him, I have to also wonder like others similarly are...

Is this a DREAM???

Is this some sort of unconscious sequence where Ed works through trauma/hurt/demons? Is that person with him the ghost of Hornigold or another significant figure from his past? And does said sequence end with him jumping from the cliff and allowing the Kraken to disappear back to the gloom???

But something that makes that whole theory SUS is the shots we've gotten of someone, presumably Ed, coming up out of the ocean. And it's not tinted blue like all of these other shots are.

So it's just hsdjkhsdjksdhskjdhsjksfs??????

Regardless, REGARDLESS, I think all of this points to Ed going on some sort of journey, some sort of bout of self-discovery and self-acceptance. I think he's going to heal parts of himself, or at least SETTLE with parts of himself, no matter the circumstances. And that would be so good because I want that so badly for him. I want him to be able to do that for himself.

...AND SPEAKING OF HEALING SHDJKSKLS

BUNNY. BUNNET. SIR THAT'S MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT STEDE BUNNET.

but omfg this is yet another case of my brain not being able to piece together timelines. because ed babe where ARE you. "BABYGIRL WHERE ARE YEEEWW..."

He looks so soft, and also has on a different ring??? An emerald/cyan looking ring??? AND THE KRAKEN RING THAT TAIKA ALWAYS WEARS HSDKJS.

So I just hsdjkhdjklsdhdjklshsjkls. "jodi you'e literally going to find out in like less than a month" I KNOW I KNOW OKAY BUT THAT DOESN'T PREVENT ME FROM GNAWING ON MY DESK FOR 18-ISH MORE DAYS HSDKJLS.

Also, as an aside, I SO very hope this leads to Fangy getting a puppy. I SO very hope that the "pets befouling the ship" clause is scratched from the rulebook PFFFF.

LOOK AT MY SWEETHEARTS HAVING FUN. LOOK AT JIM BEING UNHINGED SHDKJSS LOVE THAT FOR THEM. SERIOUS GOOSE IS BACK TO SILLY GOOSE!!! LOOK AT STEDE LOOKING LIKE A PROUD DAD. THIS IS THE SHIT I'M HERE FOR!!!

also hi hello is that archie. dO YOU THINK ARCHIE WANTS M-(GUNSHOTS)

i'll just be in the corner sobbing over being attracted to so many of these damn pirates. like, it's an Issue

...mmMMMMMM ONLY FOR ME TO TRANSITION RIGHT BACK INTO ANGST TERRITORY LMAO. BECAUSE STEDE, DARLING, WHAT IS THAT INJURY???

I've seen people theorize it's a stab wound, a bullet wound, or some sort of wound that was burned/cauterized. Either way, EITHER WAY, OUCH??? CAN MY DARLING PLEASE KNOW PEACE HSDJKSDKL

Also again, this all plays back into my theory that they're having a party, only to get crashed by some sort of navy personal or another pirate bounty hunter of some variety. And Stede gets captured/tortured.

*Banging pots and pans together* WHEEEEERE ARE WE IN THE TIMELINE WHERE ARE WE IN THE TIMELINE WHERE ARE WE HSDJKLSHDLKS

Same shirt, but has his EARRING. And is BATTLING A SHIT TON OF PEOPLE. So I would assume this comes AFTER the party fiasco, but also jsjshdjkshlJKHDKLS????

Also the CONCERN on his face is so striking. It makes me wonder if he's looking at Ed. ESPECIALLY because—

SAME BEACH, SAME BATTLE??? SEPARATED BY THE PARTY FIASCO AND ARE NOW FIGHTING TO GET TO ONE ANOTHER?????

But two things about this shot. Well, three, if you count me absolutely FOAMING at the mouth at getting to see Ed battle because hsdjhsjkhsdjkls bARK,,,

One, his sword is bloody. Love that for him. King shit. Slicing and dicing.

BUT TWO, AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, HE APPEARS TO BE HOLDING HIS RIGHT SIDE. NOT THE LEFT SIDE WHERE HE'S BEEN STABBED LIKE 12+ TIMES, BUT THE RIGHT.

HE GETS INJURED??? DO THEY BOTH GET INJURED?????? DAVID I KNOW WE HAVE LIKE 18+ DAYS LEFT BUT I'M DYING OVER HERE HSDJKSLDS

oh hi izzy lmao the way i did not expect the hardest line in the trailer to come from him.

"You don't know the first thing about piracy. It's not about glory, it's about belonging to something."

God. GOD. I really feel like he's going to end up surprising me so much this season lmao.

((BECAUSE NOT TO MENTION, THE FACT THAT HE'S TALKING TO RICKY, AND IT JUST SEEMS,,, 👀))

oh god y'all lmao. want to see how loud i can scream. because, i missed this my first few watches, and didn't even notice until it was later pointed out in people's posts, but,,,

LUCIUS!!! L U C I U S!!!!!! MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND LUCIUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BEARD, WOODEN FINGER, AND ALL.

MY DARLING. MY GUY. MY BESTIE!!!!!!!

Listen, I was like 99.9999999999999999% sure he was alive okay lol. Because NARRATIVELY, he had to be. NARRATIVELY, I think his death would have sent things into irreparable places. Also, silly little pirate rom/com; Y'ALL CAN'T KILL OFF ONE OF THE MOST BELOVED CHARACTERS LMAO LIKE NO WAY.

But regardless, I'm so happy to see him. I'm SO so happy to see him. AND I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE HIM REUNITE WITH PETE, AS WELL AS SEE HIS REAL AWKWARD INTERACTIONS WITH ED, I'M SURE HSDJKS

Obligatory Wee John in drag mention/shoutout. Because come on now. COME ON NOW. HE'S FUCKING SERVING. ABSOLUTELY SLAYING. THAT BLUE LOOKS SO SO FUCKING GOOD ON HIM TOO. AND IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY FOR KRISTIAN AS WELL LIKE WHAT THE FUCK!!!!

Annnnnnd Obligatory Tealoranges mention/shoutout because goodness, look at them. LOOK at them. LOOK HOW SOFT JIM LOOKS. LOOK HOW SWEET THEY ARE. I'M EATING MY ARM!!!

*Baywatch Theme starts playing*

But okay okay what are we thinking:

Training montage/sequence? Or romantic moment?

STEDE'S ROCKY MOMENT LMAO, OR STEDE'S ROMANTIC HERO MOMENT. RUNNING TO GET GAINS, OR RUNNING TO GET HIS MAN.

OOOOOOO BITCH LMAO. OOOOOOOOOOOO BITCH. *RUBS HANDS TOGETHER*

and also snorting at ed's eyes because, just when i think they can't get any bigger,,, just when i think he can't possibly get even More Eyes than usual,,,

But okay hi hello WOWZERS this sequence. This one REALLY has my brain churning.

And I'm subsequently in the camp of thinking that this is very very soon after their reunion, if not their REUNION PROPER. I'm sort of leaning more towards the former, because something tells me they'd want to keep their reunion proper a secret/save it, since it'll likely be a very pivotal moment.

But regardless, SOMETHING SOMETHING SEASON 1 EP3 MIRROR? STEDE FINDS ED INJURED AND WATCHES OVER HIM???? I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW HYPE THAT WOULD MAKE MEEEEE HURT/COMFORT AND PARALLELS MY BELOVED!!!

Because Ed is DEFINITELY injured. Blood on the side of his head, various cuts and bruises across his face, etc etc. And Stede looks very Concerned when he calls his name. So I'm just 👀

Not to mention also, Ed seems VERY out of it. His eyes are wide/glazed-looking in all of the subsequent shots. And his first reaction is to headbutt Stede away shdkjshdkjs.

So again, the theory that it's right around their reunion seems very plausible, based upon reactions and outfits and the like. BUT WHO KNOWS.

also, for the record, still sobbing at how stede keeps his arm protectively draped over ed during these shots,,,

AND *RUBS HANDS OVER THIS ONE TOO*

,,,and maybe also *wipes tears away* because he just looks so SERENE. he looks so CALM. i have to wonder if this is after a pivotal moment in his healing, be it from his own realizations, an intimate conversation with stede, or both.

i just hope he's legitimately feeling better right here because i want that for him. i want that SO bad for him. I WANT THE WORLD FOR HIM!!!

Annnnnnnd ending it off with this shot because omfg. Three things.

One, JACKIE AND ED GIRLS NIGHT REAL,,,

Two, Ed trying something "different" has me sobbing and throwing up. He just wants to be comfortable. He just wants to be HIMSELF. He just wants to stop PERFORMING AND MASKING.

Three, THE SWEDE AND JACKIE LMAO??? SWACKIE??? THE SWEDE LOOKING SO INCREDIBLY HOT??? THEY WERE NOT LYING WHEN THEY SAID EVERYONE WAS GOING TO BE HOT SHDJKSD

anyway, if you made it this far, then bless you and your resilience LMAO. but also if you made it this far, you're probably just as excited as i am. like, after this trailer, after seeing all of our darlings and seeing the silliness and seeing the interactions...

idk, i'm just feeling THAT much happier. i'm feeling THAT much more confident in our showrunners/cast/crew. and i cannot WAIT to continue feeling happy with all of y'all <3

18 DAYS AND COUNTING. CANNOT WAIT TO SEE HOW WRONG I AM LMAOOOO <333

[morpheus-somnium]

Hungarian food headcanons [Skyrim]

As a Hungarian person, I am going to tell you what kind of Hungarian food would exist in the lands of Skyrim

[I am aware that these foods might and probably exist in a lot of other cultures, I'm just saying that they are also part of the Hungarian cuisine!]

[Most pictures are either from Wikipedia pages or Google!]

Chicken stew, aka csirkepörkölt

This food inspired the post, because i was eating it while writing the draft. It is so good.

You need chicken, grease, water, spices and either pasta or some kind of főzelék (see down) to eat it with.

It's pretty easy to make, and it tastes good, so not only adventurers make it, but it's also a popular food at inns.

Főzelék

This is a vegetable soup-stew-pottage thingie. It looks like you mashed said vegetables into baby food and then stirred it into this weird stuff. You can eat it with any kind of meat, I guess. You make meatballs or sausage to pair it with.

This is a very controversial food; I, for example, only like potato főzelék that my mom makes.

I think most Skyrim residents eat it because they don't have anything else to eat?

Adventurers eat it, for sure. It's kinda easy to make (other than a special kind of stirring with flour?) and only needs a few ingredients, and you can eat it alone, too.

Túró rudi (Curd snack?)

Cottage cheese in chocolate that is usually filled with some kind of jam. Stay with me. You might think that it sounds weird. It is. But it tastes so good!! It is sweet, and cold.

You might buy it from vendors in the city because it would melt or rot away quickly. The children of Skyrim love this snack!! Or anyone who loves sweets. I think mostly colder regions would eat this? Like Dawnstar, Winterhold, Windhelm

Rakott krumpli (Potato casserole?)

You make it when you have time because it requires an oven and a bit of preparation. But your followers would LOVE it. Everyone I know loves it? So I guess the residents of Skyrim would love it as well. You would walk into 3 random homes, and you would find at least one family or person eating it.

It would also keep you warm:)

Goulash, aka gulyás

This a pretty basic one?

I think a lot of people have heard about it before

Mostly hunters and adventurers would make it, in a small amount, at night.

BUT people would also make it at festivals or before them (we have city days in Hungary, and I guess the nation that were in the SU at one point? Or at least that's what I've read. So on these city days we used to make goulash in the garden when waiting for guests and I can kinda see it happening in Whiterun)

Dobos torte, aka dobostorta

I am not a baker, so I don't know how hard it is to make this, but! Skyrim bakers would totally make it.

This is the cake served at Victoria Vitti's wedding. 💯. Believe me. Please.

It has caramelized pieces at the top and they are so good to crunch.

Spritzer, aka Fröccs

This is wine with carbonated water

You might think that only poor people would drink this, but no. There are people here (and in Skyrim) that drink this instead of water. 😭

So average nords would drink this instead of water. They wake up, spritzer. They need to eat, drink, swallow medicine, spritzer. They have a headache, spritzer.

Crepe, aka palacsinta

A lot of European countries have this type of pancake! So not only Skyrim but the majority of Tamriel would make it.

It is pretty easy to make, so if you and your followers crave something sweet for dinner, you would make it.

those dwemer pans are literally made for them.

You could use either some jam or some kind of chocolate cream to spread on it.

But!! Some places would have salty or sour crepes? Like a potato-filled one!

Fisherman's soup, aka halászlé

My sibling absolutely loves this soup; they eat it almost every time we are at some kind of restaurant.

You need like fish, onion and paprika.

So the slaughterfishes better be prepared when someone hungry is near the water, because their slaughtering ass will be cooked.

[essaytime]

I think the main thing that absolutely infuriates me about the "Romeo and Juliet were just dumb, horny teens" take is this implication that because they were so young, their relationship had to boil down to them being dramatic and inventing some great romance to moan about, or lust and hormones. As a teenager, it makes me want to tear the speaker apart with my bare hands. Interchangeably with stabbing, maybe.

When you look at the text, you can clearly see that there is some emotional connection between Juliet and Romeo. Their first conversation is literally a sonnet - which already indicates some sort of understanding and mutuality, and it's also beautiful poetry. They are the only characters in the entire play that they are really fully comfortable talking to. The adults are caught up in the feud, Nurse loves Juliet, but cannot understand her (and makes a dirty joke at her expense in Act I, which for a person Juliet's age would be awfully unpleasant), Romeo's friends, though I Iove them, don't get his sensitivity - Mercutio laughing at it and Benvolio worried by it - which Juliet, in turn, appreciates. They speak of each other with respect and admiration, quite unusually in Verona, where all is conflict and even Juliet's own father insults her: look at the sonnet, the balcony scene, Romeo comparing his sweetheart to the sun or a jewel (in contrast to his earlier quotes about Rosaline, which are literally a compilation of clichés stacked on top of one another). Even when Juliet awaits their wedding night, in a speech clearly centered on sexual matters, there is a visible softness and affection with which she treats Romeo ("cut him out in little stars"...). She waits for the night because it's him, not "I want to sleep with someone because I want to sleep with someone". The two genuinely care about each other, and are fond of each other. Of course, we can wonder if this love would last if they were given an opportunity to grow older, but when the play takes place, this love is there, and it's beautiful.

(Off-topic, I'd also like to note that this is an Elizabethan play that takes place in even earlier times, presumably late medieval - early renaissance Italy. They wouldn't live in the modern world where you can date many different people and settle well into your thirties or fourties. The average marriage age for girls in Shakespeare's time was about twenty, in fifteenth century Florence it was eighteen. Both of them were from wealthy families, so they'd likely be expected - even if Juliet's parents did not force her into a marriage with Paris - to marry earlier, for financial and political purposes. There couldn't be a "growing older" like we imagine it. Even their hypothetical different relationships would be early relationships for today's standards)

And it makes my blood boil when the visible genuine bond between these two is reduced to just "dumb kids being horny". The motive behind these words being partly, of course, the high-school-acquired All Required Reading is Nonsense edginess, but also a deeper issue - the inability to comprehend the fact that teenage love is also often real love.

Being capable of having deep and meaningful romantic relationships does not come baked into your birthday cake when you turn eighteen or attached to your first ever bill. Not every single feeling a teenager might harbour is at its core shallow lust and wanting to get laid. Of course, there's lots of cases of shortsighted infatuation where the pair really have nothing in common! I could name at least a few examples I have seen personally. But still, on every street and every corner of the world, and often a few metres from these pointless infatuations, teens fall in love because there's something more to it. Because they find they have a lot in common, because they get along well with each other, because they are able to see the good in the other person - their kindness, their intelligence, their enthusiasm, you name it. "Teens" including the younger teens, from thirteen to fifteen. And this love is a deep emotional bond. Sure, in most cases it will not last until death (and to be honest, relationships not working out is not really a teenage-specific phenomenon and a sign that young love of all is inherently doomed and it has to die so the curse of growing up is fulfilled), but it doesn't make it less of a love when it still remains, and it includes all the things love is about. Young couples go on dates, and have fun. They confide in each other. They support each other through hard times, they show care, they sometimes make sacrifices for their loved one's good. As any person in love does, at any age.

When I fell in love four months ago, I did not fall in love because I wanted to sleep with someone so bad. In fact, I do not want to - not for the next several years. I realise it's something I might want someday, but it's not today; and above all, I'm way too young. If anything, what I want is to kiss someone, or run my fingers through his hair, or read with his head in my lap - but it's not something I'd go out of my way and date a random person to get, come on. I fell in love because he is actually the first boy that reminds me of myself so much, the first I can understand so well. Because I also have a penchant for history and writing, I also tend to use formal and flowery language in very informal situations, I also enjoy people's attention (though I seem to worry more about being a potential inconvenience than he does), I also believe that we should judge people as individuals, because there's too much nuance in one person to make proper statements about large groups - and I find in him so many things that I can relate to, though of course I can't say I know him well enough to speak much for sure. Besides, he's simply a wonderful person, not flawless, of course, but he has a good heart. He is always kind, and well-mannered, and intelligent, and you can laugh with him. I think he would care if something bad happened, no matter if he says that he wouldn't. I think I know him well enough to say this at least. And if he loved me back (a thing I consider unlikely for now, but not entirely impossible), would we stay together forever? Heaven alone knows! Maybe not! It is up to the higher power. But even if we broke up, that wouldn't erase the fact that I loved him, and I would have done a lot for him, and we were able to have meaningful conversations. Just because a love isn't forever, doesn't mean it was never there.

Because - what the "dumb kids" people don't seem to grasp - teenagers are also human beings with a functioning, even if not fully developed, brain, capable of having complex feelings and thoughts just like an adult. Note that Shakespeare's leads, at least Juliet, actually do that - hence the pre-wedding night monologue, the "deny thy father and refuse thy name", her statement (I don't know the English original of that one, to be honest) that she is too soft and loving towards Romeo already, but it's because she has such profound feelings for him she can't even pretend to be strict. It's noticeable that she has some emotional maturity, at least - she shows some critical thinking abilities, she understands the consequences of many actions, she is able to see that the feud is pointless and a name is just a name. She's a teenager, and someone in their teens is also a Homo sapiens specimen, not a being from a different planet. Teens think and feel. It might not be the same reality as the adult one, and they don't deal with emotions with such ease as an adult would, but that doesn't mean they are unable to truly love and care, to enjoy talking to someone and want the best for them, like grown-ups do - as developing an affection for someone that makes you happy is a very human thing, and I can guarantee you a thirteen or fourteen-year-old is a developed enough human being to experience it.

So, to sum it up, if I hear any "Romeo and Juliet were just dumb kids being horny" on my watch, the author of this statement will presumably be mercilessly killed, and then I'll do as Fulvia allegedly did to Cicero and stab something through their tongue, except instead of a hairpin, I'll probably use one of the darts my little brother got for Christmas. They are very sharp. We have several holes in the floor already.