#which has now been postponed to the end of this month instead

[rxkuyo]

.

[ryanguzmanscowlick]

The thing is, Tommy’s worried about Evan coming over to his house for the first time. He’s seen Evan’s loft. It’s all clean lines, modern appliances and details. What little sentimental odds and ends he owns are tucked away or so subtle than Tommy didn’t spot them the first couple of times he came over.

Tommy’s house, by contrast, is filled with the detritus one accumulates when they’ve gone no contact with everyone related to them and they’re trying to create a homey, family atmosphere out of thrift stores and the Pottery Barn catalogue instead of friends and family.

He’s a knick-knacker, an antique furniture collector, a throw pillow and afghan fanatic.

He doesn’t have much in the way of books, but he has shelves and shelves of notebooks, some full, some half-used, some untouched. It’s a habit he picked up when his first ever therapist (after he left the 118) coaxed him into writing everything down to make a little sense of the mess of contradictions, phobias, old prejudices, prejudices still clinging on and traumas that made it feel impossible to figure out what to talk about first when he sat down in that office.

There’s a small, awkward section of wall in his kitchen created when a previous owner of the house decided to add a laundry room (embarrassingly, his favorite room in the house for it’s sheer utility) and that’s where Tommy hangs his collection of coffee mugs. Some of them are Goodwill finds, some souvenirs, some band merch or creations by local artists he picked up at some market or other.

There’s five different varieties of protein powder constantly cluttering his kitchen counter because he ran out of room in the small pantry. His pots and pans hang over the tiny, rolling kitchen island, which is itself nearly taken over by a serving tray that holds his water filter, a candle, a decorative planter filled with his cooking utensils, a plastic case of toothpicks.

He still has a dvd collection, for heaven’s sake, and it takes up most of his sagging entertainment center. He should replace it, but it’s the first piece of furniture he ever restored and he’s having trouble letting go. Speaking of letting go, there’s a dog bed in the corner for a dog that passed away nearly ten months ago. He probably will at least hide that in a closet before Evan gets here.

Because he is coming over. No matter how nervous Tommy is, he’s not gonna come up with another excuse for why they have to postpone or meet at Evan’s instead. He gets the feeling he’s already made Evan a little wary, and with Evan’s relationship history and his fear of being too much, not enough, just left, Tommy will eat his own foot before he purposely exacerbates Evan’s fears.

If Evan looks around and decides Tommy is a hoarder or a slob or a million other nasty epithets Tommy’s brain is offering up like some cruel, self-sabotaging buffet- Well, they’ll talk about it. They’ll learn and adjust. Evan has never, ever been cruel to Tommy and it’s quite frankly laughable that he would start now.

That’s what Tommy tells the rogue half of his brain trying to rain on their parade. Another thing he picked up from his therapist - name the part of you that spews negative self-talk and talk back to it. Predictably, Tommy named his Vince. Shut the fuck up, Vince.

Evan’s shift ended twenty minutes ago and Tommy has chili on the stove keeping warm. Between showering and the drive over, Evan should be due at his door in another twenty-five or so. Tommy hides the dog bed, lights the kitchen candle, tries to find things to do with his hands so he doesn't watch the time like a hawk. They’ve had conflicting shifts for almost two weeks with only stolen moments and half-asleep kisses in between. Tommy misses his boyfriend. But a watched clock never ticks, or whatever.

His strategy works, because Evan’s knock on the front door actually startles him a little from the stack of unopened mail he’s sorting through. So many flyers for what feels like every home decor and craft store in the state.

Evan’s eyes are gentle and joyful when Tommy answers the door. “Hey.” He leans in to squeeze Tommy’s bicep and press a kiss to the wing of his cheek. Tommy can feel Evan’s mouth stretch into a smile against his skin.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Tommy wiggles his fingers under the strap of Evan’s duffel to take it from him and steps aside to let him into the house. His heart thuds in his chest.

Evan surrenders his bag and steps into Tommy’s home for the first time. If he notices Tommy holding his breath, he doesn’t comment yet.

He takes a look around while Tommy tries to look anywhere but his face. He doesn’t want to let on that he’s being a complete lunatic about this, that he let his anxiety take over for the better part of the day.

When Evan turns around to face Tommy again and slides his hands over Tommy’s waist, presses his fingers into Tommy’s back, nudging them closer together, his smile has split into a full grin. Tommy can’t help reflexively smiling in return. He can feel his cheeks flooding with warmth. It should be embarrassing that Evan still makes Tommy blush at the drop of a hat even all these months later, but if it helps Evan know deep in his bones that Tommy is gone for him, Tommy wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“It looks like you.” Evan draws his hands up and down Tommy’s torso in gentle strokes. “Cozy. Warm. Like…” He trails off and bites his lip, drops his eyes to Tommy’s chest.

Tommy hooks his fingers under Buck’s chin and lifts his gaze back up until their eyes meet in a move that’s become so routine it’s pretty much an inside joke between them. “Like what? Don’t leave me hanging.”

It’s Evan turn to flush a deep pink. He takes an unsteady breath in. “L-like home.”

An immense weight lifts off Tommy’s chest so quickly it almost steals his breath, but Evan has tensed up just a fraction, so Tommy hums softly, spreads his big hands over Buck’s wide shoulders and digs his fingers in to massage the tension back out. He slides deeper into Evan’s space to take his mouth in a chaste, lingering kiss, and he murmurs against his lips. “Glad to hear it.”

[royal-confessions]

“The grand reveal of Hussein of Jordan newborn daughter excluding the baby mama has to be the biggest royal faux pas of the year.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“King Abdullah’s family not waiting for Rajwa to be in the mood to take a public pic before posting the new baby Princess is the royal version of my family placing boyfriends and girlfriends at the very end of the family portrait in case they need to crop them out later.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“Why Is the first look of baby Iman just her and her dad? At least show a hand or the back of the woman who carried her for 9 months and birthed her 🙁 I apologize if it’s a cultural thing and maybe they will soon release a family picture but that’s the first peek at the baby and Princess Rajwa is absent.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“Lovely to know Hussein and Rajwa had a healthy baby girl!!!!!!!!! But come on now, the family photoshoot should have been postponed for when the mother was camera ready, we are used to Rajwa making us wait for her appearances lol so the video of Hussein and her baby girl was more than enough for a good while, and this are not any pics BUT her daughters first pics and she is not there.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“The reluctance Rania and Abdullah display against factoring Rajwa and Jameel into the public equation of the JRF is unorthodox, do they want to keep their club exclusive only for those born with a title? It could be they want their privacy but to leave them out of the first published pictures of Princess Iman is rather disheartening, Rajwa is the babies mom and Jameel is her uncle.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“The coverage from the Hashemites of the birth of Hussein & Rajwa’s baby leaves me feeling bad for her. So many photos of the family with the baby, zero of her. I understand that perhaps she didn’t want to be photographed but there’s very little reference to her either. As though she’s birthed the child and put to one side. Queen Rania’s instagram feed puts her in prime position. There are a lot of reasons to side eye Rajwa (probably not all of them are her fault either) but becoming a mother is no small thing. In this moment she should have more respect shown to her than this.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“If I wasn't a royal fan, I would assume Hussein had a baby sister and not a newborn daughter. What was that photoshoot of Rania, Abdullah and all their sons and daughters with Rajwa and Hussein's baby without the mother there?Not even a blurry pic of Rajwa, who is the mother of Princess Iman. And DO NOT say its cultural because there are PLENTY of pics of Hashemite princesses with their newborns at the hospital.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“You guys WTH! There are photos of baby Princess Iman and no Rajwa in sight!! I can’t believe it, how rude of Hussein, I feel bad for Rajwa who clearly doesn’t want to be photographed because by marrying to that dork her baby now has to be exposed into the public without her mother. Honestly what a gross royal family, I’ve never seen this happening with any other house. They have no respect for Rajwa I really feel bad for calling her lazy all this time.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“My heart breaks for Princess Rajwa because in which universe would a Royal Family, or ANY Family disregard the new mother by posting photos of the baby without a trace of her. Heck there is a photo of Rania holding Princess Iman before one of Rajwa and her Baby. If there is someone that still wants to buy into the fairy tale wedding and ignore this disrespect for Rajwa? I truly feel sad for her.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“I’m torn at the photos released by the RHC to celebrate the birth of Princess Iman bint Hussein because is great they gave Princess Rajwa space to recover but also out of the ordinary not to see the mother at the first official portraits of a newborn royal baby, since she won’t be the heir I believe they had juggle opportunity to wait for Rajwa to feel herself again instead of rushing the images with no mommy in sight 🥺” - Submitted by Anonymous

“Okay so we don't know what's going on behind the close doors but when CP Hussain was born their were picture of him and Queen Rania and mind you King Abdullah wasn't even in the race of becoming king so Hussain wasn't the heir , there are pics of Queen Noor holding her baby Hamza but no pic of Rajwa with her baby daughter is VERY telling” - Submitted by queenempath007

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Getting the Numbers Right

I glare at Billy. The empty eye sockets glare back. 

“You’re nothing like John,” I tell him.

Billy stays silent. He often does. Especially after John moved in and I didn’t need him for a sound board anymore.

“No one is like John,” I mutter.

“How long has he been gone? Is she the one who will hold his attention longer than two dates?"

Billy’s mocking tone puts my nerves on edge.

“If I text him now, about a case, he will abandon her without a second thought,” I inform the obnoxious skull.

If Billy was still able to roll his eyes, this would be the moment for it.

“To answer your first question, he’s been gone for one hour and forty-seven minutes.”

“Trust you to know to the second how long he’s been out.”

I roll my eyes because I can, and huff loudly.

“Getting the numbers right is just a way to keep my brain occupied while I’m talking to you. Now, to your second question. This one, Jeanette? Lisa? Sarah? is number six in as many months. John looked exactly the same as he does before every second date he’s been on since he moved in here. My analysis will prove that he’ll end it. Tonight, or by text tomorrow.”

“You seem awfully sure about this. What if this one is the exception.”

It turned out that Billy was right for once.

***

“Alright, I’m off. See you in a week,” John says and hoists his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to eat.”

“Why?” I mumble into the sofa cushion.

“Because I don’t want to come home to a corpse, you git,” John explains.

“Why bother coming home at all if you’re moving in with what’s-her-name anyway,” I protest.

A foreign sensation is starting in my throat. It thickens and something is burning behind my eyelids. 

“Sentiment!”

“Shut up, Billy!” I yell.

“Moving?” John asks incredulously. 

A thump startles me. John has dropped his bag to the floor, and his palm is warming my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Sherlock?” John asks, clearly worried.

“Nothing. You’ll miss your train,” I say and curl in on myself, trying to shake off John’s hand without succeeding.

“You’re trembling,” John states and places his other palm on my forehead to check for fever.

“Am not,” I say, but something is wrong with my voice.

It’s hoarse because of my swollen throat. My nose fills with moisture, overflows, and my philtrum is suddenly soaked with snot. Both cheeks are wet with shed tears, which I evidently have an endless amount of. 

“Sherlock? Talk to me,” John pleads. “There’s clearly something bothering you.”

To my utter dismay, the tears keep flowing and my chest has started to ache. A sob is impossible to stifle. It’s a sound I haven’t heard myself produce since I was a child.

Another sound catches my ears. John is tapping on his phone. The absence of his warm hands is unsettling. I feel…bereft. To my relief it doesn’t last long. His strong fingers rake through my hair, and his other hand stroke my upper arm.

“I really wish I didn’t have to go, Sherlock, but this conference is…shit…look. I’m postponing my departure a few hours, and I won’t stay the whole week, just the three days that are inevitable, alright. But I need you to talk to me. Tell me what all this is about. And I swear, if this is just shamming…”

“It’s not,” I croak. “I’ve come to realise…you…John…I can’t…I won’t cope when you move…”

“Shh, now. No one is moving. Didn’t you deduce that I broke it off with Jeanette last month? You must stop talking to Billy. He’s an idiot,” John murmurs.

Strong arms turn me, but I can’t bear to look at John when my face is covered in snot and tears. Instead, I bury it in the crook of his neck, and the familiar scent instantly soothes me. My body goes limp, and the tears stop falling.

***

It’s a totally different experience when John prepares his second departure. He holds my head in his hands, looks me square in the eyes and talks softly.

“Keep busy. Count the days, minutes, seconds until I’m back if you must. Perform safe experiments. Eat. Stay hydrated. Text me if you need to. I won’t always be able to answer right away, but whenever I can, I will. We can talk when I’m finished for the day. Video calls. I’ll want to see you to know that you’re okay.”

He pulls me down and kisses me so tenderly, I’m tempted to start crying again. I hold the back of his head carefully and puts all my love for him into the kiss.

“I love you. I’ll miss you. Come back to me,” I murmur into his hair when we break the kiss and we’re holding each other tight.

“I will, Sherlock. I’ll miss you too. I always miss you when I’m not with you. Love you too. Now, start counting,” you say. 

You stroke my cheek, then leave. I start counting the seconds, minutes and days until we’re reunited.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @raina-at

@helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely

@peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @bs2sjh @a-victorian-girl @221beloved

@ninasnakie @jolieblack

[alicerosejensen]

I love your page so much omg. I‘m literally obsessed with your work😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Also I have this imagination in my mind going on about how Leon would try to help his girlfriend from recovering from her mental health issues since she’s always helping him. I was recently thinking about how he would react finding her not moving on the bathroom floor and trying to bring her back! I rewatched American horror stories and the scene with tate and violet in the first season episode 6 (ig?) is always in my head. I‘m still recovering from my past and my unhealthy habits and tbh recovery never felt better.

If this is too much for you or triggering please ignore this.🫶🏼❤️

I had a terrible period in my life when I was a few steps away from doing something like this in my life and unfortunately this shit often comes out. I'm not sure that such texts help me work through my psychological traumas, which were, in fact, inflicted on me and continue to be inflicted by close people who do not consider me a person, but at least such works help me to vent my pain, which I cannot permanently bury in myself.

I have been postponing this request for a long time because I was probably waiting for the right moment to write this text.

There are mentions of suicide, psychological trauma, severe self-doubt and anxiety, so if this is not acceptable to you, then please just block it.

Perhaps there is a similarity with my previous texts, but I am writing this with strong emotions now that I am trying to cope with it again.

the text is chaotic, I repeat, written while I was under the influence of strong heavy emotions. Maybe I'll delete it later, when my brain gets back to normal a little bit.

If a songbird doesn't sing well, they wring its neck.

Maybe it was the costs of Leon's profession and the result of his constant missions, after which something human is gradually dying in him despite the constant struggle to save everyone. Raccoon City was supposed to teach, if not to survive, then make him begin to understand that some are doomed to die.

Leon Kennedy was taught not to offend, but to protect the weak, especially weak women. But it is difficult to calm the flow of disordered thoughts and put aside the fear that has seized him in order to clamp bloody wrists and apply something to them to stop the blood. Leon knew many strong women: Ada was perhaps the first among them, he did not know either her past or her real name, only the present that pushed their foreheads against each other; Claire, a fighting friend of misfortune that he met in that ill-fated city; Ashley, who turned from a baby eagle into a proud eagle; Angela Miller and others…

Your strength dissolves in the water, coloring it scarlet while your heart stubbornly still beats, let the rhythm noticeably shorten.

In truth, over the past few months it became clear that this was the only way out. When even your loved ones considered you an expired product and did not hesitate to remember this and remind you every time. In the end, their words turned into an obsessive worm that settled in your head, slowly day after day, month after month, devouring you and the circumstances seemed to be not in your favor. Instead of support, you somehow faced reproach, as if the universe was screaming that you were an wrong person, nature's mistake who had no right to live.

Escape attempts were doomed to failure. At first you tried to suppress it in yourself, helping Leon, because, in your opinion, he was the only one who had the right to complain about life, although he did not do this in front of you, because everyone said that you had no problems: you have everything limbs, there are no fatal diseases, all loved ones are healthy and there is a roof over your head, as if this is enough to not fall for nonsense and not walk around forever with a sad face.

This was the last time you shared your experiences. You didn’t even bother telling Leon, but everything inside was torn from constant pain. The feeling was as if you were being beaten by two extremes that led you to the edge of an abyss where you ultimately voluntarily jumped.

no, you really loved him, it was just other people’s words and your own speculation that convinced you, despite your strong relationship with him, that Leon would find someone better, someone more confident in himself, someone who would not be you because you had already missed the chance for a good life because it moved too slowly. Ultimately, a couple of sips of alcohol with sleeping pills and a sharp blade in his hands simply promised to correct the mistake in the form of you with your own hands.

You didn't have the courage to do it any other way.

But you really didn’t think that if you could try to open up to your loved one, you would meet support and not condemnation. Perhaps in a mad world he would be the only one who would heal your wounds as you healed him in your time. Leon clenched his teeth, feeling tears flowing down cheeks, seeing these crimson stains, when he pulled your body out of the bath, holding you close to him, repeating “I’m holding you. It's allright"

He so carefully laid you on his lap, managing to pull out a first aid kit and then bandages to tightly, albeit carelessly, wrap them around your wrist in order to somehow stop the bleeding. At least you were still breathing, thereby giving him hope that everything could still be fixed. the darkness and emptiness came to life, calling in a whisper to dissolve into eternal silence where there is no pain or condemnation. Your body will be in a grave under a gray stone, while the remains of your soul will float like a small grain of sand in infinity.

For Leon, everything happens in a fog; he tried more than once to save people, but he had no right to lose in this battle, even if you yourself surrendered to death. Shaking his head, brushing away the tears, he wrapped your body in a large terry towel, kissed your temple and picked you up, trying to somehow warm you, pressing you closer to him. the ability to provide first aid in the field and pull suicides out of the other world is not the same thing. Leon would have thanked God if he had believed in him, convinced that blood loss was the least of the evils that you had caused yourself, until he saw the remains of some substance at the bottom of the glass that stood on the table along with an almost full bottle of alcohol.

You really didn't give him a chance.

The ambulance took several minutes, which seemed like an eternity. In fact, Leon wasn't sure if it was worth trying to make you vomit when you'd already lost so much blood that it was already seeping through the bandages. Surely you would need a transfusion and Leon is ready to give you all his blood if only you would wake up. Holding his breath, he carefully looked at your chest, watching whether you were breathing and fortunately, your heart was still beating, slowly, but it was still fighting for life.

He stroked you on the head, kissed you, promised that he would take you somewhere else, quiet, where no one would dare to offend you, even if it was your family. You could have just asked him for help, just cuddled up to him and he would have protected you from other people’s attacks, but you preferred to remain silent. Kennedy was tired of waiting for the medical staff to let him in, although relatives should be allowed to see the patient first, but the position of a government agent sometimes had its advantages, and they concerned not only the high salary. When he was let in to you, it seemed to him that you had become half your size while you were lying on the bed, curled up under the blanket. It didn’t work out to pull off a beautiful suicide, which meant that soon angry relatives would come here with new sweat of bile especially for you. They won’t care about your feelings, but Leon sat down next to you, trying not to intrude too much into the space in which you imprisoned yourself, as if this blanket cocoon could be a separate world where you could hide. He spoke to you carefully, hating himself for not being able to understand in time what was wrong with your behavior; perhaps if he had been more attentive to you, the incident could have been avoided. You would see a psychotherapist, take a course of medication, and your environment would definitely be taken care of.

You cry, not letting him come to you, hating how you weren't just left to die and how much you hate this world. Hysteria after hysteria, nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown, in the hospital you repeatedly tried to commit suicide, but the attentive staff managed to prevent this before you inflicted fatal injuries on yourself, and if after some time Leon still managed to carefully break through your armor, then your loved ones This did not concern relatives in principle. You only allowed one person to visit you while you were undergoing psychological treatment and you behaved calmer and calmer, listening to the velvety words that soon all this would be behind you.

“We’ll go home soon,” Leon smiled, gently holding your hand and kissing your forehead, just glad that you’re alive, that you’re breathing and that your psycho-emotional state is slowly but improving. “You know, I have a surprise for you, I think you’ll like it when we get home.”

Soon what happened will become another nightmare in his life, a blessing with a good ending, but for the sake of this happy ending, Kennedy is ready to descend into hell at least every day.

You nod at him and smile a little, fearing that the gift is some kind of party on the occasion of your discharge. In fact, the last thing you want is to see someone’s faces, especially those who diligently hammered into your head how insignificant you are. Why do you even hope that the doctor will postpone your discharge, but the plans for your further treatment were completely different.

On the other hand, after taking antidepressants and psychological help in a special medical institution, how many men are ready to stay with their girlfriends who have been there for several months? For Leon, it seems this was not a significant problem, or he simply carefully did not show it. However, there were no parties, no calls, you simply returned now to his home where there were new interior items. it became somehow more comfortable... but something else surprised you.

Puppy. A small puppy of a couple of months old ran towards you and Leon to meet both of them, but stopped and began sniffing your shoes, while something thawed in your heart.

“Animals seem to help us well, They feel when we feel bad, it seems to me a good idea to get us a little companion,” Leon said quietly, stroking your back while you were busy with the puppy, rejoicing at the little living soul who will love you with the same pure and devoted love.

Ultimately it should have a happy ending too. Leon is ready to go to great lengths so that his beloved songbird starts smiling and singing happy songs again, even if it is necessary to remove other birds from her family who sleep and see how to pluck all her wings again.

You and he also have a chance for a happy ending.

[iwillnotdieamonster]

"This is a beautiful letter from Fiona Apple explaining to her fans why she must postpone a concert date. I am impressed at the way she was instantly able to make the decision to choose love over her career. Indeed, the world needs more of this.

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.

I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.

I'll be seeing you.

Love,

Fiona"

Credit goes to the respective owners.

[wormwoodartemisia]

@xintothewoodswegox 🍀🥃🍻

I wasn’t really planning to but this was just the wee bit that was missing to actually make me start to post all my silly little ideas... Probably not what you expected, but I now make it your problem, anyway! 🤷‍♀️😉💋🫂

Inspiration immediately hit me when I saw this:

This is my icon (I got permission to use it from the artist, Notesz, and I love their CoD-art, among others!), the bigger version to fully experience its magnificence. 🥴🖤

THERAPIST JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH...

My version, at least... 😏😋 Civilian afab!reader, no specific desciption, no use of y/n Warnings: Absolutely no smut - instead, Soap using a ridiculous amount of pet names because I need him to... Furtive approach of making him sound a bit Scottish now and then, but I'm still very shy about it... Reference to abusive relationship, but I have the impression that tw is not needed. Let me know if I'm wrong! Short appearances: Price & Ghost, only brief mentioning of Gaz About 2.5k words, starting below the cut.

SHENANIGANS

It's gonna be ok...

You are more than relieved that the address is the same as before. A change would have been more than inconvenient. This place is known to you, every staircase, exit, door in the building. You know what to expect, where cars can park, which closeby places are crowded and where to disappear if needed.

Therefore you don't hesitate before entering the building where your therapist has got their office, first floor. From this height, getting away out of any window might be manageable in case it has to be, even for you, or so you hope and wish that you'll never have to find out...

You are more than grateful that it's not a total change. When your therapist told you they had to postpone your next session for several months due to some scientific research and a book that had to be written, you were about to quit, but they immediately tried to comfort you: "Of course you will not be alone in this situation. I've found the perfect stand-in for you, one who can absolutely meet your needs, trust me. Doctor MacTavish will fully take over this office while I’m working abroad. You just keep coming here for your normal appointments and clarify the rest with him."

You were led to the exit, they shook your hand and left you standing there, speechless, the news fresh like a bleeding wound. This was how your last session ended three days ago.

The situation itself was too surreal for you. So you simply accepted there was no suitable aftercare and that you wouldn't be introduced to Doctor MacTavish properly. There were too many thoughts on your mind to ask yourself if any therapist would really let their office be fully taken over this way...

When you enter your therapist's (your new therapist's) office, you notice that nothing, absolutely nothing has changed. There's still no secretary in the anteroom and despite the fact that you are perfectly on time, your knock at the door to the main office is shy. The deep male voice that bids you enter is a bit muffled through the closed door, but audible enough for you to instantly like its sound - very much so.

The moment you open the door to step in, the man on the other side of the room gets up from behind his desk to greet you with a radiant smile that directs the view away from his remarkable eyes and to his mouth with that striking scar on his chin. He comes over to you, holding out his hand to shake yours. For just a second you are too stunned to react properly. This guy is as far away from how you imagine a therapist as you want to be from your fucker of an ex-boyfriend...

He's quite tall and massive, slightly tanned muscles he knows to put on display - but not as some wannabe poser. He simply isn't afraid to show his self-confidence, clearly earned one way or the other. His casual blue jeans do his muscular legs some good, the woven brown leather belt around his midsection a nice devider to accentuate his upper body. A soft dark blue T-shirt hugs his frame like a second skin.

While you keep staring, your eyes wide, he has locked the door and performed the act of greeting (which includes taking your hand) all by himself because you are not much of a support. Without any effort he holds eye-contact with you - and this is the meanest thing to do, for you immediately fall for that sparkling cerulean blue. In fact, his intense eyes were the first thing you noticed about this man. (Not to mention his mohawk - which has never suited anyone better, you have to admit...)

When he strides back to his desk, reality sets in again and you recall the warm feeling of his strong hand holding yours in his. There is his scent in your nose, a perfume of woods and leather and the essence of green - moss and fern, maybe?

You watch him walk, his broad shoulders, muscles rolling beneath his skin, and you catch yourself staring at his arse. You are somewhat shocked about how blatantly you've just sized him up when it is his brains you need.

It's a literal necessaty to shake your head twice in order to get rid of your - let's say - more physical thoughts. Only that it can’t get easier for you: He doesn’t sit down behind his desk again, but is now leaning at the front of it, facing you, half-sitting, his legs extended and crossed in the most relaxed style, his arms folded over his chest - in such a decorative way that you must notice the tattoo on his right forearm.

The smug grin playing on his lips adds to the mischivous glint in his eyes. He is well aware of the effect he has on you - obviously nothing that makes him uncomfortable - on the contrary. You even get the impression that he lets you have your fill before he finally says your name - just your first name. Your former therapist always called you by your surname...

"Such a pleasure we finally meet."

You nod once and, after clearing your throat, you agree. "The pleasure is mine, Doctor MacTavish. "

He quietly laughs at that, not condecendingly, but with a warmth that immediately forces your lips into a soft smile as well.

"Just John, please. We don't need a doctor, do we?" He notices your hesitation before you finally nod. "Oh - ok. John. As you please." Again his all-consuming smile. "Ever so polite, hen. Now lie down."

The way you stare at him, incredulously, your pretty eyes wide as saucers, is a sight to behold. Grabbing a notebook, he straightens up again and points to his right. "The sofa, lass. Isn't tha wha therapy's about?"

You feel a bit stupid because you are totally convinced that - of course - you would have understood this completely unambigous statement had it come from your former therapist - or any person fitting your image of how a typical therapist should look.

Meanwhile John has reached the sofa and the two armchairs facing it. Your former therapist always kept their place behind their desk while you were seated in front of it on a normal chair, but this option seems to be unacceptable for John.

You swallow. "Well, ehm... I'd rather sit, in case you're good with that?" No problem for him. "Ach, have yer way, dearie. Ah'm good with a lot of things. Ye mind if ah?" He lets his Scottish brogue show and doesn't wait for your answer before he himself drops onto the sofa unceremoniously, the door in view. His notebook is resting on his chest while he stretches out his legs and puts his arms behind his head.

You can’t take your eyes off him as you slowly lower your body into the soft armchair. For his part, he's also watching you, somehow expectantly - as if he is about to ask you next which film to pick and where to order some take-away food... You're not sure how to feel about this man - and you're an open book.

"Ye have yer doubts, luv, haven't ye? What is it? Tell me."

Yes, what exactly is it? you wonder. Of course you can’t tell him that you've never heard of a therapist as hot as him - because that's not really what puts you off (distracted you somehow at first, yes, but that superficial notion would pass). He's too close, too fast, isn't he? Doesn't seem to believe in professional distance...

You opt for a more diplomatic explanation, one that holds enough truth in itself. "It’s just... I guess, I expected someone older..." He donnes you a knowing smile. "Let me assure ye that ah'm old enough for the job and ah dinnae lack experience, if that's wha ye're thinkin."

In fact you do not doubt that he’s got some wide range of different experiences. You only muse if it's the kind of experience you need while you take in his extraordinary tattoo and the prominent scar on his chin as two visible hallmarks made flesh to tag to the ambivalent feelings you have towards your new therapist.

John follows the movements of your eyes and touches his scar, grinning. "Boys are boys, ye ken? And ah must admit that ah wasn't born a therapist." He adds your name, almost like an afterthought.

"That so? For how long have you been a therapist then?"

His smile doesn't waver. "Been a few days", and with that he winks at you. "How about this? We take a few sessions, get tae know each other, and then ye can decide whether we go on or nae. What ye say?"

You consider his proposition. The fact that it is him your former therapist has chosen as their surrogate clearly drips in his favour - but you are a bit afraid that therapy with Doctor MacTavish - John - will be something entirely different from before... However, does 'different' have to mean 'worse'? You lean back in your armchair. "Ok. How do we start?"

John hasn't changed his horizontal position so far and seems to be comfy on his sofa. "Tell me somethin about ye, hun." - "Haven't you read my patient records?" - "- course ah have. Gnawing self-doubts, trust issues, traumatic experiences in yer relationship. But ah want tae hear ye talk. Choose any random topic and we speak about it."

For a second you are tempted to go for the weather forecast or your favourite animal, but this idea is only short- lived. Instead, you go for something new you would have been willing to let your former therapist in about soon. "I don't sleep much these days. I have nightmares." You don't look up, so he reassures you with a low, calm voice. "Go on."

You shrug. "That's all."

John looks at you pensively. "So ye do sleep." - "Pardon?" - "Yer dreams. In order tae have nightmares, ye need tae sleep first. Or do ye mean that ye refuse tae sleep for fear of havin bad dreams?"

You're not sure you see much of a difference, but you think about his question. "I fall asleep. Then the dreams start and after some time I wake up in cold sweat. And repeat." - "Have ye thought about takin sleepin pills? They could help ye with sleepin through the night." - "So I wouldn’t wake up from the horror? No way!" - "Don't ye want tae know how the dream ends?" You blink. "I... No? Can’t be a good end. I mean... have you ever even had nightmares, John?"

It's the first time that his smile changes its tone into something tinted, a lopsided grin with a grave seriousness. He sits up and leans forward to you, his notebook now next to him, his arms resting on his knees, before he starts to speak. "Ah ken the weight of nightmares, bonnie. 'ave seen some trauma in ma life", he hesitates, "Therapist stuff, ye ken? Ah dream about getting shot sometimes. Or being blown tae pieces."

When he doesn't add any more information, you feel the need to ask: "And then?" He purses his lips: "Then the dreams take a bearable direction - or start again."

You stare at the man in front of you, he holds your gaze unblinkingly. You frown. "I don't understand in how far this can be helpful to me, John." - "Priorities, luv. Ah usually tend tae choose sleep over some more or less vague fears. Ma body needs tae recover so that ah dinnae have tae let the nightmares come true." He hesitates once more. "In a metaphorical way, of course. When ah'm awake then, ah can think about the bad dreams and work through them. Might take some time, though."

The impression he gives you is one of sheer honesty. You're intrigued: "And what have you found out? About your nightmares?" - "Just the obvious. Fear of being unable tae get the job done, fear of nae being able tae support those who rely on me, failure in general. All the therapist stuff ah'm going through. Ah really get stuck into it, lass." He smiles the gravitas away. However, you can feel that he means it. This is more than just a job for him. He's always on a mission to save lives. That's real. He wants to prevent death if and when it's in his power. He for himself has to deal with an immense amount of emotional pressure every day.

You can feel all the emotional pressure as well - but for you, there’s always the other pressure, too. The invisible threat of a former boyfriend who was quite close to being the literal death of you.

You don't think less of Doctor John MacTavish just because he has surely never experienced that his life was literally at stake. Your lives are just so different... "I only hope that I'll never become one of your nightmares, John."

A boyish grin: "Ach, dinnae fash, bonnie. Chances are up for some sweet dreams."

⬛◼◾▪️Meanwhile, outside▪️◾◼⬛

"I still believe Garrick would have been the better choice", Ghost rumbles while they are waiting for you to leave the building again. In the driver's seat, the Captain takes a sip from his coffee, flashing the masked man next to him a look out of the corners of his eyes. "Soap's got some useful background knowledge from previous missions, some intel Gaz clearly lacks. Not to mention that Kyle couldn't make it back in time, right?" Ghost slowly shakes his head, almost unnoticeably, so Price adds: "You think MacTavish can’t handle the situation and take it far enough?"

Now Ghost barks a laugh: "Bloody hell... I'm not worried about his interrogation skills or acting abilities. 'm just worried that he might take it farther than he should - and we might get more than we've bargained for." - "He thinks she's that dangerous?"

It's a harsh laugh as response that the Captain gets to hear from his Lieutenant instantly. Ghost keeps his eyes trained on the entrance of the building when he answers: "This bird's not too dangerous. Yet I wouldn't guarantee she can’t take him apart..."

⬛◼◾▪️▪️◾◼⬛

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. But when you think about it, you have to admit that your choice of words was a perfect set-up...

"Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, John. I'll think about your words, I promise, but for now, I'd love to change the subject." Luckily, your therapist is more than willing to fulfil your wish.

"That's fine. Now it's ma turn tae choose a topic. Let's talk about relationships. Just in general. We needn't necessarily come tae tha specific partner of yours. Wha was his name again, hen? Macaron?"

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 2: A Debt To Repay

(Chapter 1)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Chapter Summary: When Arthur keeps his promise and returns, he's determined to repay his debt to you in more than one way.

Word Count: 5.4K

Tags: NSFW. MDNI. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Oral Sex (f! receiving), Fingering, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Infidelity, Arthur gives reader a pet name

AO3 Link

A/N: The chapter has spoilers for the first one obvs. For the sake of the story, I have given reader a last name. However, Arthur decides to give her a pet name all of his own...

"To my dearest wife, Mrs. Brooks,

I hope my letter finds you in agreeable health and blithe spirit. I am fortunate to write this in the same state of body and mind.

I am writing to inform you that my return home from Annesburg has been regrettably delayed again. Mr. Jameson has instructed me to remain as bookkeeper for the upcoming months, expressing modest satisfaction with my employment. I do not know yet when I’ll be able to visit you.

I hear whispers that the head bookkeeper, Mr. Muller, my superior, might be retiring by the end of this year, which would make me a potential candidate for his position. I plan on proving my worth in the meantime so that I might be given preferential treatment when the time comes for his replacement. I would like to discuss this in greater detail with you on our next meeting.

Business is flourishing despite minor mishaps at the mine hindering our profit. The papers have callously depicted the pristine working conditions of our miners, whom I assure you are treated and provided for in the most respectable manner. Please refrain from reading such worthless gossip and know I am secure from bodily or spiritual harm.

Mr. Jameson has generously provided compensation for postponing my visit. I trust that you will able to retrieve it at the Valentine Savings Bank, like on previous occasions. Please be mindful to spend it wisely and sparingly.

I bid you farewell with the optimism that we will see each other very soon. In the meantime, I'll see you in my most tender dreams.

Be well and let bygones be just that.

Your doting husband,

Stanley Oliver Brooks"

It has always struck you as appropriate that your husband's initials are S.O.B.

You can't think of a more fitting term for him, even after the last letter he sent, his words leaving you again sick to your stomach as you reread them. While you sigh of relief for his foreseeable absence in the next few months, you're disgusted by his artificial affection and concern for you. If only the man of his letters were real.

You close shut the drawer containing his correspondence with a thud, hearing your wedding ring clang inside. You haven't worn it in months, preferring to not wear a constant reminder of him on you.

You go into the kitchen to find something useful you can do, keeping your mind and hands busy with toil usually helps forget him. You decide to bake a pie with the rest of the apples you have left.

You reach for the flour in your cupboard when you hear the distant sound of horses approaching, making you turn around sharply, grabbing the shotgun by the door. It's now a mechanical instinct for you, having done it hundreds of times since you've lived out here alone. Nothing has passed during that time to upset the peaceful life you lead, so you mostly do it out of precaution. The only major cause of concern happened a few days back when you saw a strange man wander into your front yard, picking one of your apples. Luckily, he was the best thing that happened to you in a long time.

You don't dare risk your luck again so you step out onto the porch quickly, getting ready to ward off any intruder. It's only when you have him in your line of sight that you see the approaching target.

It's Arthur Morgan. At last.

It has been five whole days since he left with your mare Amber. His promise to return hanged in the air since like the sun rays that get you up in the morning, sweet and inviting. You would have never imagined you'd miss someone this much, let alone someone you only knew for a few spellbinding hours.

The man you met intimately last week is now riding a powerful brown stallion, an adequate choice for him, both of them equally imposing to the eye. Amber gallops by their side appearing smaller but just as graceful and well-kept, her golden coat shining in the morning sun. Arthur slows down both horses to a trot as he enters your front yard, letting out an "Easy now" as he pulls on the reins. The closer he gets to you, the better you can see the quiet tender smile on his lips, one too unseemly for such a big man riding such a big horse.

Arthur looks much improved since the last and only time you saw him, now wearing clean clothes that highlight his threatening physique. A polished, perhaps new, slightly too tight, blue shirt brings out his eyes as they shimmer under the shadow of his familiar hat. The bruises on his face have almost healed and you can see the scar on his chin more clearly now that he has trimmed his beard. The satchel you gave him is still draping the same shoulder he hung it on and an impressive gun belt sits on his hips, two heavy weapons anchoring him. Your eyes can barely register all of this as you keep ogling his scene-stealing smile.

"You greet everyone with that shotgun of yours or just me?" he quips from atop his horse as he prepares to dismount. Hearing the soothing lilt of his voice again fills you with unabashed joy.

"Just men I have over for dinner. Or men who take my horse. Or both."

Arthur lets out a few chuckles as he stomps on the ground, heading towards the rails of your porch to hitch his horse. You head toward Amber, petting her forehead to say hello and she neighs back, saying she missed you too. You give her some more attention before you feel Arthur standing behind you, waiting his turn to get your sweet attention too.

"Was she a good girl?" you ask him when you finally turn around and meet his enigmatic gaze, his face barely a few inches from yours. His smile seems to be stuck in place.

"Yeah, she's a swell ride. Didn't work her too hard, I promise."

"And who's that?" You nod towards the brown stallion now grazing your lawn.

"That's Titus. He's new. Still a little jumpy."

"Well, I'm sure you'll tame him in no time."

"Yeah, I'll get him there."

When your spoken conversation halts, your unspoken one continues as you keep eyeing each other. There's a magnetic push forcing you together, an invisible pull holding you apart. Small wrinkles appear and dissolve on your faces as fleeting hints of your nervousness. Your heartbeats are a little faster than their resting rates. Your eyelashes suddenly work overtime. The breeze cools your sweaty temples as you both sway in place, waiting to see who will make the first move, who will be the one to break off the impasse. Make or break. Push and pull. A seductive stalemate.

"How’ve you been?" Like a hesitant player with a winning hand, you fold.

"Just fine. Better. Alive, thanks to you."

"I'm glad." You feel your cheeks move to form an unstoppable smile.

"I've come to repay my debt, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, really?" You pretend to have forgotten all about it, like it hasn't occupied your mind every single waking hour for the past few days. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I have something in mind. But first I'm gonna need your help with something.”

You watch as he moves back to his horse and you follow him, hitching Amber next to Titus. Arthur removes a brown bag from one of his saddlebags. "Here, hold this." It's heavier than you expected. He moves to the other side of the horse to retrieve a smaller bag. "Grab this one too.” You steady yourself as he hands it to you and you start to struggle with the weight of both bags. "Get those inside, would ya?"

“Mr. Morgan, what is this?"

"Just get them inside. I'll show ya."

You're already climbing the stairs to head inside when Arthur finally unropes the big package that was stowed on the back of his horse. By the way he holds it, it seems even heavier.

When you finally place the two bags down on your kitchen counter, Arthur's already right behind you, setting down the package next to the bags. He opens one of them and reaches inside, handing you a potato the size of his fist.

"Thought I'd bring back some things you might need. To replace all the food I ate the other day."

You watch as he starts to empty the bag on the counter, first reaching for potatoes, carrots and onions and then for handfuls of green beans and peas. He retrieves a few shucked corncobs, some turnips. You peek inside the other bag to see that it has a few loaves of bread.

"Now, the only thing I didn't get you was apples, but I figured you might still have a few of those."

"This is too much." You finally express your surprise.

"Well, I did eat too much."

"Not this much, no!"

"It's nothing, really. Why don't you open up the rest for me and I'll get the game I hunted?"

You watch him leave before you finally open the big boxed package. Laying on top you find a few red tins of biscuits and half a dozen chocolate bars. You lift them to find cans of coffee, beans, peaches and salmon. You spot the neck of a bottle of whiskey, an expensive kind by the look of it. A small wheel of cheese is stuck in a corner.

You're still deep in astonishment when you see him walk back in, a couple of rabbits hanging from one hand and a duck from the other. You can't help but laugh at the image. "You steal a grocer on the way over here or something? How much do you think I eat?"

"Just trying to make sure I do right by you, miss. Don't want you thinking I'm so kind of grifter."

"But I didn't give you any chocolate. Or biscuits!" You raise one of the tins in incredulity.

"Oh, that's something I thought you deserved."

Your heart flutters at his words. "Well, you better be staying for dinner because there's no way I can eat this all by myself!" It's only when the words are out of your mouth that you realize how eager you are to replicate the other night.

"I'd be happy to." He accepts your invitation without a fuss. There’s a certain easefulness in your conversation now that you're better acquainted and you both know your attraction is mutual. It doesn’t surprise you that he says yes.

You look back to the goods now cluttering your counter and wonder if you have space in your cupboards to keep it all.

"I was actually hoping you'd let me borrow some of your tools, so I can settle my debt like I promised."

You turn around surprised once again. "Isn't this the repayment you had in mind?" You gesture toward the supplies on the counter.

"No, ma'am. I was thinking I could help you fix your stable. I went to get Amber the other day and I saw that some of the walls need mending and the roof needs fixing. I'd be happy to do it if you let me."

You've been meaning to hire someone to do that for months. It's touching that Arthur noticed and wants to help you out. You don't see a reason not to let him.

"That would be fine, Mr. Morgan. I have some tools here." You reach for your toolbox under the kitchen sink. "There's more of them somewhere in the stable. I'm sure you can find them. Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to impose."

He takes the toolbox as you hand it to him. "I'm more than happy to help, miss." He gives you a reassuring smile. "I'll get started right away if you don't mind."

“Sure. I'll fix us some lunch later. I'll come to get you when it's ready."

"Thank you." He nods politely before he excuses himself and you watch through the kitchen window as he stops to pat Titus before heading to the stable out back.

You are now stuck with the ordeal of putting away all of the food Arthur brought, rearranging the cupboards to fit it all. You smile as you store the biscuits and the bars on a shelf, wondering what kind of man brings so much chocolate to repay a lady. Something I thought you deserved, he said. But it's not just chocolate, it's a whole array of goods, including meats he took time to hunt and skin to purposely bring to you. You realize he's been thinking of you as much as you've been thinking about him, even though a week ago you were just complete strangers. Your thoughts are interrupted once you hear sudden loud rhythmic hammering outside, the continuing of Arthur's restitution.

Everything is in its place once you remember you were going to bake an apple pie before you were so delightfully interrupted. You think it's an even better idea now that Arthur is staying over for dinner. And lunch. Somehow you've captivated him enough to spend the whole day here with you. You hope he'll be spending the night too.

It gets harder to focus on the pie as you recall the night of intimacy the two of you spent the other day. Your chest rises and your breath hisses at the thought that you might be repeating it tonight. As you mix and mold the dough on your steady hands, you think of his large ones caressing you once again, first through your clothes and then on your skin, leaving his mark again on your faltering hips as he gives into you for the second time. You'll be sure to ask him to let you finish around him first this time, the idea having plagued you since then.

The oven is already hot once you absentmindedly finish assembling the pie, the apples now carefully stuffed inside the crust. As it bakes, you get working on lunch, made with some of the ingredients Arthur brought, a simple soup with plenty of potatoes and some sandwiches. You remove the pie from the oven and leave it to cool on the window sill before you go call Arthur for your meal.

When you reach the stable you find him crouched on top of the roof, nailing down some pieces of wood to cover a hole. He’s working shirtless and the late morning sun is making him sweat profusely, deepening his permanent tan. He’s so focused on his task he doesn’t see you approach. “Mr. Morgan, lunch is ready!”

Your voice is loud enough to make him turn to see you. “I’ll be right in, miss.”

When you’re nearly back at the house, you watch from afar as he climbs down the ladder, reaching for a bucket of water to refresh himself, scrubbing off the sweat with a damp rag. You leave when you see him buttoning his shirt, tucking it into his pants, priming himself for another meal with you.

By the time he gets inside, you’re already serving two bowls of steaming hot soup. “This looks mighty fine, miss.” He gives you a satisfied grin before he stops in his tracks and turns around to peek inside the kitchen, having caught the smell of your freshly baked treat. “Is that pie?”

“Yes, it’s cooling so you’re going to have to wait for dinner, I’m afraid.”

“I look forward to it.” He sits down on the same chair he did last time, just as anxious to dig in as five days ago. But this time he’s not as hungry, so he engages in lively conversation with you.

He mostly tells you what’s new in Valentine, curious happenings that have gone down in the past few weeks, things he’s heard around town and seen in the papers. He even gossips with you about a well-known cattle rancher caught having an affair with the butcher’s wife. The story seems to delight him immensely since apparently they ended up slimed in the rancher’s own pigpen in the middle of the town.

You would find the story amusing if it didn’t remind you that you too are a wife with your own infidelity now. The idea of ending up in a pigpen after being exposed for your transgression seems incredibly bleak. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the thought from your mind.

But when Arthur raises from his chair, letting out a long sustained breath, stretching out his enormous body inside your small cottage, you are reacquainted with the lust you have for the man. As you recall the intimate actions that make up your infidelity, your first thought is to wonder how soon you will be able repeat them. The hope that it will be tonight makes you weak with excitement. Maybe ending up in a pigpen isn’t so bad.

“Well, I best get back to it if I’m gonna finish today.” He stops before he crosses the threshold, returning his hat to his place. “The food was very tasty, miss. Thank you.” You both smile briefly at each other.

While he resumes fixing the stable, you return to your chores until you are suddenly left drowsy by the afternoon heat, deciding to rest your eyes for a moment in the comfort of your sofa, the sound of Arthur’s hammer lulling you to sleep.

It's late afternoon when you wake from your nap and you notice how quiet it is, the hammering having stopped. You figure it’s best to go see if Arthur needs any help, bringing with you a pitcher of lemonade to refresh him from a sunny day’s hard labor.

You find him still working inside the stable, his shirt, hat and gun belt hanging on the hooks where you keep some ropes. This time he hears you approach with the pitcher and two glasses in hand.

“Thought you might be thirsty, Mr. Morgan. Got you something to drink.”

“That’s very kind of you, miss. Just give me a second.”

You watch as he picks up a few bales of hay on the other side of the stable and he places them on top of the others, finishing setting them up in a neat pyramid by where you’re standing.

"I think that about does it,” he says.

You survey the small stable as you notice the impressive result of his craftsmanship, every hole now covered and every wooden board now in its place. He even went to the trouble of tidying up the space, neatly arranging everything to make it more functional. It looks like a brand new stable.

You serve him a glass of lemonade as he joins you. “The stable looks wonderful, Mr. Morgan. I’ve never seen it so tidy!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He sits down on a bale as he finally rests for the day, sipping half a glass in just a few gulps.

You serve yourself and put down the pitcher, sitting on a nearby stool, continuing to admire his handiwork. Amber will surely enjoy living here again, you think. It takes only a few seconds before your eyes circle back to where Arthur is and you notice he’s staring at you. You stare right back.

There’s a slight breeze coming in from the windows but neither of you is swaying in place now, sitting perfectly still as you observe the other. You are once again victims of a push and pull, a make or break. That goddamn seductive stalemate.

Except this time, it’s him that breaks. “Come here.” Arthur’s voice suddenly sounds deeper as he sets his glass on the floor, his other hand reaching out for you. You leave your own glass on the stool as you hold out to touch his palm.

When he finally holds you in his hand, you feel yourself being pulled closer to him, forcefully landing on his lap. Your faces remain somber as you’re now close enough to inspect each other’s irises, continuing that wordless exchange you’ve been having all day. The standoff ends when Arthur chases your lips with his, finally free to crash into each other like you’ve been so hungry to do. Nothing about it is tender as the kisses you share turn ravenous, no longer restricted by the pretense of propriety. You have slept together, after all.

It takes a while until both of you are satisfied, decreasing the intensity of each kiss as you pause to look at each other’s eyes, basking in the glow of being wanted so deeply by the other. Soon his warm lips rub against yours more softly, delicately even, and his tongue stops chasing yours. He settles down by placing short pecks on your chin and jaw, as you gently caress his back and neck. You remain in his embrace as you lean your forehead onto his and he gently removes loose strands of hair from your cheeks.

"I'm sorry I was selfish the other night,” he murmurs. You respond to his apology by lifting your head in confusion. “I was in such a hurry I didn't let you finish first." The fact that he cares about it makes you ache with renewed desire.

"That's ok. It looked like you needed it more than I did.” You pause as he reaches quickly for your lips again. “And, boy, did I need it!” He lets out a few soft chuckles in that drawl of his.

His gaze is suddenly serious. "Let me make it up to you."

“Now?”

He nods. “Now.”

He reaches for the warmth of your thighs underneath your skirt, the ones he’s been fondling this whole time. He squeezes them tightly a few times before he suddenly pulls at your drawers and slides a hand inside, reaching your core with a couple of fingers. You feel them slide between your folds and rub the spot where your slick is. “Good, you’re already wet.” You feel a jolt of ecstasy through your entire body at the brief maneuver so when he removes his hands from you it feels physically devastating and you let out a small whimper.

“I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Just take off your clothes for me, would ya?” Arthur suddenly reaches for his glass of lemonade.

“Here?”

He nods. “Here.”

It’s a rather odd moment when you realize that somehow you trust this semi-stranger, barely-acquaintance drifter completely. He’s asking you to get naked for him in the middle of your stable, in broad daylight, and yet you don’t even bat an eye. You’re quick to grant his wish as you start unbuttoning your simple blouse, soon exposing your chemise to him as he takes a few sips of his drink. You drop your top on the floor as you get up from Arthur’s lap to remove your skirt and throw your drawers to the side, with only one piece of clothing left to remove.

Arthur rises from his seat and soon hovers over you to plant another kiss, this one more forceful as he parts your lips with his, slippery from the lemonade. He lingers a while before retreating, forcing himself apart from you to swoop up your chemise as it passes between your bodies. He takes a moment to look down at you and you’re very aware that you are now standing there naked and barefoot. “You’re so beautiful.” He sees you wince at his compliment. “Really, you are.” He softly caresses the side of your arms before leaning in for another demanding kiss and you feel your bare breasts touching his bare chest, his warmth enveloping you as you shiver from his touch and the light breeze entering the stable.

He lets go of your mouth to plant sensual kisses on your jaw, slithering steadily down your neck, quickly reaching your collarbone. He then trails further down as he reaches one of your breasts, lingering his tongue on your nipple, making you steady yourself on his shoulders. He slides further down to your belly, then to your navel, stopping just as he hits your mound, planting soft kisses there. His last one is right above your parting of the folds, making your whole body shudder. He gets up again to look you in the eyes. “So beautiful.” A final kiss lands on your upper lips.

He pauses before he asks his next question. “You have any neighbors, miss?”

You are completely surrounded by the woods. There isn’t another soul for miles. “No, why?"

"In case you get loud."

You watch in place as he goes to retrieve his shirt and for a moment you think he’s going to get dressed. Then he heads to the bales of hay he had been sitting on, unfurling his shirt on top. He grabs your hand and beckons you: “Sit.” You’re confused by his intentions and it shows. “Sit here, come on.” He pats the fabric of his shirt, tugging your hand with his other one. You slowly do so, still not understanding what he wants.

Once you sit down, your bare ass lying on top of Arthur’s shirt, you follow his lead and he grabs both your knees gently, making you turn to the side. You watch as he suddenly kneels himself down in front of you, moving his hands down to your calfs, lifting your legs up. Without any warning he starts pecking one of your knees, placing the other on his shoulder. “You gonna be loud for me, beautiful?” His beard lightly scratches you as he switches legs. “You gonna be loud while you come around my mouth?”

His words make you inhale sharply as you realize what he’s going to do to you.

“Is that a yes, miss?”

You nod, shaking with anticipation. “Yes.”

He pulls your body closer to him, positioning your hips at the edge of the bale, making you lean on your elbows, fully lying on the comfort of his shirt.

His light kissing on your legs starts out feeling like gentle tickling but soon becomes sensual smears as he starts working on your inner thighs. The kisses then get longer and bolder as he closes in on the meeting of your thighs, forcing you to breathe more heavily. He starts using more tongue too, which increases the feeling wildly. By the time he reaches the apex of your thigh, you’re completely dizzy with his teasing, involuntarily closing your eyes as your breath hitches.

“Christ, darling, I haven’t even sucked you yet.”

You watch as Arthur lowers his face once more, a smirk disappearing behind the shape of your mound. He kisses the bridge between your thigh and your slit, which distracts you from his other hand as it sneakily reaches the meeting of your folds. He parts them slowly with a single finger, starting at the top of the clit and only stopping at the bottom of your entrance. You let out a prolonged loud moan, which makes him raise his head, watching your face as he then slides the same finger all the way back up, smearing your slick along its path. You get louder as he pauses directly on your clit, swirling it a few times. After so much teasing, having direct contact is so intense that your head finally hits the hay.

The reaction suddenly feels premature once you finally feel him start what he’s set out to do. Arthur lowers his head again, only this time his lips land right on yours, circling your clit in the gentlest kiss of the afternoon. Your whole body shakes at his subdued but blinding touch.

The coil inside your lower abdomen starts to wind as you feel the tip of his tongue make direct contact with your bud, its surface now angled perfectly to drive you wild. He continues the motion even as you writhe under him, now clutching his hair to ground yourself, your legs pressing his body down onto you as your back begins to curve. Rather than pull away from your tight embrace, he sinks deeper into you, holding your hips steady from their bucking as he continues to lap you lewdly, the sound only muffled by your own salacious moaning. His tongue is relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure and you think you won’t last very long.

The obscenity of the moment is not lost on you, as you lift your head momentarily to see what is happening. There is a tall handsome cowboy down on his knees for you, using his whole mouth to draw from you the most perverted noises, on the verge of making you crumble to the most erotic thing anyone has ever done for you. In the middle of your stable, of all places. You thank the heavens you don’t have any neighbors. You thank the devil for keeping your husband away.

And then you feel two of his fingers enter you.

You settle your head down again as you become a complete mess under him, too far gone to care about keeping it together, especially now that he rubs the sweet spot inside you. You’re barely able to discern that his free hand has now reached his pants but you hear the sound of his buckle opening. Finally free from his constraints, he strokes himself a few times and you feel him vibrate on top of you as he finds some needed relief. Despite this, his tongue and his fingers never let up, working you mercilessly. You soon feel moans of pleasure leave his mouth, reverberating directly on your core, a feeling too lascivious for you. That’s when you finally come undone.

Your whole body convulses as you experience the greatest climax you’ve ever had, feeling the waves of pleasure reach every inch of your body, maybe your soul. As you come, your core pushes upward against Arthur’s face, telling him to stop, but he does not relent, continuing his lapping, wringing every ounce of ecstasy out of you. You’re beyond overwhelmed as you moan uncontrollably, your hips sinking and rising erratically, your hands still pulling his hair. After a few moments, he begins to slow his licking, removing his fingers from you, placing his hands on your forearms, giving you smooth caresses as he helps you come down from your high. When you’re a little more tamed, he removes his mouth completely.

“That sure was loud, miss.”

You’re so wrung out by the orgasm you barely hear him, nor do you feel when one of his hands leaves your arm. When you’re more grounded, still reeling from the aftershocks, you’re delighted to hear he has resumed touching himself. By the increasingly loud panting, he sounds to be close already. You don’t lift your spinning head until your curiosity finally defeats your exhaustion. You watch as he pumps his cock with his mouth open, eyes closed, on the verge of toppling over. His beard still glistens with some of your wetness.

When you’re strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows he hears you stir, prompting his eyes open. The gaze he gives is one riddled with lust, accompanied by a brief licking of his lips as he sets a faster pace. You continue to gawk at him, which is all it takes for him to unravel, making him grunt deeply as his spend begins to land on the ground by his knees.

You wait for him to finish his release before you tease him. “You know, you’re not so quiet yourself, mister.”

He laughs lightheartedly as he rises from his knees, tucking his cock inside his underpants, pulling his pants up before he sits down next to you by your hips, still catching his breath. He softly caresses the side of your belly with one of his thumbs. “How was that, miss?”

"I think you’ve repaid your debt in full, Mr. Morgan.”

He bends down to kiss your lips lightly as you both giggle, shining in your shared postcoital bliss. “The name’s Arthur, miss.”

"Well, the name’s Y/N, Arthur.”

“I like ‘miss’ better. It suits you.” He lowers his lips again, this time reaching for your neck.

“You ever heard a ‘miss’ scream like that for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might’ve heard louder than you.” He moves his thumb to teasingly play with one of your nipples.

“I very much doubt that.”

“Well, you can always prove me wrong.” Arthur hovers over your lips threateningly. “Besides, the day ain’t over yet, missy.”

You smile at his new pet name for you. It's certainly better than being called Mrs.

-

A/N: I already have most of the remaining chapters planned out, so hopefully the rest will be published a little faster. Chapter 3 coming soon with the rest of the day!

[manonamora-if]

July Check-In

Welp... I'm late. Also it's already the half-year mark and I don't have my usual Mid-Year recap review, so we're doing this for now, and we'll see if I can squeeze a proper MYR later this month.

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I FORGOT LAST MONTH????

Celebrating my 3-year anniversary of publishing Meeting the Parents, my first IF game ever. I wanted to do something special and then... I FORGORRRRRR ; _ ; I'm buuuuumbed about it :((((

Anyway... Onto the usual index:

Recap of last month’s progress

Plan for the next month

The mega to-do-list tm that hasn't really changed.

Still long post under the break. If you want a mini version, head on over to itch.io as usual!

May Progress

Pulling out THE LIST from last month and checking the progress:

Play more games ✅

Well, that's always a check, because there's no month without a @neointeractives jam lol. Anyway, June was Neo-Twiny Jam month, so was mainly that (unfinished thread). And of course, I finished the REALLY BAD IF jam (Review Thread and Ranking). But, I didn't manage to play more than that.... :(((

Almost 700 reviewwwwssssss. Dang.

Code Chapter 6/Endings❌

I've done another round of comment with MelS, but we're still missing a branch before I can code it. But I'm not too worried about that bit, since Chapter 6 will have pretty basic coding.

Fixing an older games. ❌

Lololol, listen... I tried, but only managed 1/3rd of the Tomato game to be done.

Write the next Chapter/Scene of a WIP❌

Lololol pt2 The writing of Exquisite Cadaver stalled this month. But I picked it up again.

What else happened this month????

Wayyyy too many distractions this month. First IRL (which is good). But also... events.

This months, we had the Neo-Twiny Jam (@neo-twiny-jam) which we are wrapping up, and I've been reviewing, and also participating in. There was also the Nouvim3000 (so I don't forget how to write in French), and a bunch of smaller jams which I jammed into some entries.

So, what does it look link in terms of releases:

The Lady with the Camellias (NTJ - Infrom 7 - prototype)

L’Incombustible 3000 (Nouvim/Marmelade - Twine -FR)

machina caerulea (4 jams - Twine)

Bon Dieu ! Et une lessive aussi ? (NTJ - Moiki - FR)

I've been looking back at previous releases of mine, feeling a bit nostalgic. Thinking of writing some stuff (post-mortem) about them. I don't know...

So... I didn't stick TO THE PLAN AT ALL. Which is a big bummer... because the stuff I wanted to do in July will need to get postponed again. I'm not happy with myself about that. Even if I think I made some killer tiny games this month and played some hella dope stuff... But, it's done. I can't change the past... So I'll try to do better in July instead.

Also, I did have some great relaxing days where I essentially napped or walked outside all day, and just... not being online. That was v nice!

The PLANtm for July

Obviously first is to wrap up the NTJ properly (admin), and start off the SingleChoice Jam and the SeedComp! again. The Anti-Romance Jam is ending soon as well, and the IFComp has just started. So, you'll probably see me on the IntFiction Forum more this month for all of that. And the next two weeks I still have some IRL obligations.

BUT, here's THE plan for the month:

Play more games: Which will be done v easily: 30+ NTJ entries left to review, the Anti-Romance Jam, Love/Violence Jam, the Nouvim, and the ParserComp also just ended. So that's a bunch!

Code Chapter 6/Endings: I don't think we'll be able to code that last chapter, because MelS's July is packed, but if we can manage another round of edits, it would be great!

Fixing an older games. I'm 1/3rd to 1/2 done with Tomato Tomato. I'm trying to finish fixing it for the FIX IT JAM. And if I can manage some proper progress for Exquisite Cadaver, I'll be ECSTATIC!

Write the next Chapter/Scene of a WIP. And if I could manage to write one more game round for EC, I'm buying myself some cake!

I may or may not have sent an intent for the IntroComp... So I might send something. Puzzly probably.

Progress... I can do that... I think... I hope... We'll see/

~

The 2024 To-Do List:

LOLOLOL June just decided to avoid all this.

The hopefully maybe easy to handle To-Do:

fix the bugs in EDOC (FR waiting for Adventuron)

fix the bugs of TRNT + find a way to add the missing pieces

fixing the interface of LPM and the popups + check animal interactions

figure out the One-Button JavaScrip/jQuery issue...

edit the loading screens of the completed tiny games to include the program/format logo at least.

The 'Need a Bunch of Content to update but it's planned!' To-Do:

Update my website (bunch new title - also I don't think the logo clicky thing work...) + redo my itch page (un-stricking cause I need to update it)

Finish TTATEH (MelS dependent)

Finish Exquisite Cadaver (half-way mark by this summer - manif)

Finish P-Rix - Space Trucker (main path at least)

Update CRWL (it's been almost two years... I'm ashamed)

The Unlikely But it Would be Dope To-Do

Finish The Dinner as it was planned (and translate)

Finish In the Blink of an Eye as it was planned (and retranslate)

Finish The Rye in the Dark City

Fixing TTTT (at least fixing, maybe try adding some storylets)

And finally The 'It's impossible, but one can wish' TO-DO:

Remaster SPS IH (if I managed to start this after completing the rest... I'm going to eat a whole sheet cake).

Start the IFComp project (I think ST 2025)

[basketballanonsblog]

Amore Mio

They started playing Christmas songs on the radio, which made me feel festive enough to post this over a month until xmas, I guess 🤷🏽‍♀️

💝

After waiting a very long time, you finally found your soulmate.

In the two months you had known her, falling was inevitable.

You thanked the stars that you had the privilege of being bestowed the title of Jeongyeon's soulmate.

And with it being the day before Christmas, this was the day you were going to ask Jeongyeon to be your girlfriend.

Thank goodness for Mina who spent some of her time in helping you planning this. You vowed to get her and Chaeyoung the best present this year.

The day was planned out to the very last detail but as the day would go on you would remember that some of the best things in life happen unexpectedly.

-◇-

"What time is your sweetheart picking you up?"

"Five minutes."

"And what exactly does y/n have planned for you both?"

"Ice skating then whatever happens after that."

"Is that your way of saying you're going to have sex or something?"

Nayeon asked so casually that took a few moments for it to sink in.

"UNNIE!"

"What? I'm genuinely asking. Besides, nothing to be ashamed of, we're all adults here."

"Y/n and I aren't even dating yet!"

"Ohhh that's probably why she asked you out today."

A knock fortunately ended the conversation, and Jeongyeon bolted to the door.

Instead of calming down at the sight of you holding flowers, she blushed even more.

"Are you alright? Do you have a fever? Maybe we should postpone-"

"No!"

Four voices responded.

You pressed your hand to her cheek, still worried.

"But you look flushed."

Her heart skipped a beat at your concern and she placed her hand on top of yours.

"I'm okay y/n, I promise. Nayeon unnie was just messing with me."

Your bright smile returned, inducing a smile of her own.

"Let's go."

"Bye guys, have fun and don't forget to use protection!"

Yep. Jeongyeon was definitely planning her revenge.

"Protection?"

"Ignore her. Just keep walking."

"Like a helmet? Do you feel unsafe when I drive? I'll work harder to be careful."

"No no, your driving is good."

She knew Nayeon was still watching them and didn't hesitate to subtly flip her off as you walked away.

-◇-

"I have a confession to make."

"Y/n?"

"I've never been ice skating before."

"Never?"

You shook your head and she pulled you closer.

"You can hold my hand, I'll guide you."

It was a white lie and you almost felt bad. You haven't skated for a hundred years but for you it was like riding a bike.

Jeongyeon looked at you curiously since you were skating just fine.

"You have done this before!"

"Not in this century."

"Then you don't need my help." She let go, causing you to whine.

"No wait, can I still hold your hand?"

"Y/n. You don't need to ask." And with that, you continued skating. Not once letting go.

-◇-

"There has to be a mistake. I made this reservation two weeks ago and now you're telling me it didn't go through?!" The poor employee could only apologise and bow.

"Could we at least still get a table?"

"Unfortunately we are fully booked this evening ma'am."

You walked off in a huff, causing Jeongyeon to jog after you.

"Y/n it's okay-"

"This is just perfect. Everywhere else will be fully booked too." You started crying out of frustration.

"I spent two weeks organising this and it went down the drain. I'm sorry for ruining the evening."

"You didn't ruin anything." She was so gentle that it made you cry more.

"But I did. I mean I was going to-" You quickly covered your mouth to stop talking.

"Going to what, y/n?" You started blushing not unlike Jeongyeon when Nayeon was teasing her.

"Tell me, please."

"I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend." You fixed your gaze on the ground as you mumbled out what you had been wanting to ask all day.

You didn't dare look up when Jeongyeon didn't say anything. The fear of rejection was too great. You don't think your heart could take it if you lost her.

But she tilted your head up before leaning in. Your eyes widened at the feeling of her lips against yours and you knew that nothing will make you feel the same way that she did in this moment.

"You are so adorable, you know that?" She said after pulling away. "Yes."

"Hm?" You're eyes were still shut, trying to ingrain the feeling to your mind.

"I'll be your girlfriend, you dork."

"Huh. A girlfriend and our first kiss within five minutes. I'm smoother than I thought."

"On second thought, I recant my answer." She said jokingly while walking back to the car. You chased after her, giggling.

"Nope. Sorry miss, but you don't get any take backs. I'm afraid you're stuck with me.

Jeongyeon sighed dramatically but not without smiling.

"I guess I am."

~x~

"I'll get it!" Jeongyeon opened the door and ushered in the group of five.

"Merry Christmas!" Everyone exclaimed.

She watched as you shut the door, and it wasn't long before she found herself in your arms.

"Hey, merry Christmas." You tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Right back at you."

"You know, I couldn't sleep properly last night because I felt so giddy."

"It does feel surreal. But it means I get to do this whenever I want."

She gave you a quick kiss but you deepened it.

"Oi love birds, stop making out and join the celebration!" You broke apart and she shyly hid her face in your neck while you smiled and kissed the crown of her head.

-◇-

The night was winding down, with everyone leaving in high spirits. Jihyo and Nayeon had volunteered to help clear up while you stole your girlfriend away to give her a gift.

"You didn't have to y/n."

"Maybe not, but a gorgeous woman deserves pretty jewellery." Jeongyeon grazed her finger against the engraved necklace.

"Ti amo tanto?"

"It's Italian."

"What does it mean?" She had a hunch, but didn't want to assume. And you knew that.

"Exactly what you think it does."

"Can you put it on me?"

You took the necklace and delicately fastened it around her neck. Your fingers minutely trembling.

"Jeongyeon, I- ."

"I know. Me too, y/n." It was your turn this time, to steal a kiss.

Except this time there was no one around to interrupt the moment.

Jihyo was overwhelmed with joy for her friend, who had found love. While Nayeon decided to capture the moment in time and send photos to the group chat.

The latter nudged Jihyo, subtly pointing to the pair of you.

"Those two are so cute, it's practically gross."

"But you can't help but feel happy for them, right? They found one another."

They glanced at you two once more, lost in your own bubble. Whispering sweet nothings and giggling to yourselves. And Nayeon wouldn't be lying if she said she hasn't seen Jeongyeon this happy before.

"Right."

~fin

[chussyracing]

what has been happening in the world of motorsports lately?

(i am super late with all the news, so i'm putting the massive amount of text under the cut)

DRIVER (and engineer) MARKET

Adrian Newey leaving RBR (there are a lot of question marks like if he will get 12 months of gardening leave since the day he hands in his resignation or if he is hired by the team on external contract as they tried to avoid putting him under budget cap; how much it's linked to the tensions in RBR concerning Horner staying in the lead of the team despite being under investigation - that could mean other team members leaving; there is a rumour that Horner also refused to get paddock tickets for Adrian Newey's partner Amanda last year and the relationship has been broken ever since; he could go to Ferrari and there are reports he was offered 100 million pounds with an ambassador role; Toto Wolff is also interested in him and in Max, he is set to meet with his side and with Ola Kallenius from Merc and Jim Ratcliffe from Ineos after Miami about rumoured 150 million Euros contract; there are also questions about exit clauses for Max, Adrian and Helmut Marko; there are other questions like whether he wants to stay in the UK - although Daily Mail says Amanda is already looking at houses in Italy - and whether he would like to retire from F1 altogether; and final note to this point: Craig Slater said he spoke to Aston Martin insiders and found out Newey declined AM's lucrative offer and they think he is heading to Ferrari)

Nico Hulkenberg is set to leave Haas at the end of the year and joing Sauber on multi-year contract (German media reports it is 3-years contract), it's preparation for the Audi move

Ollie Bearman is rumoured to join Haas instead

Sam Bird injured himself in practice for Monaco Eprix which allowed Taylor Barnard to jump into the car

Kimi Antonelli is still linked to Mercedes and William's seat, he just finished W12 testing in Austria at Red Bull Ring (although his test was hindered by the weather, if you live close you know our weather went from 30 degrees Celsius to snowing and below zero) and today he tested W13 in Imola as well

Horner is still pushing for Ricciardo to the second RBR seat but highlighted to achieve that, he would need to improve his form drastically, he also suggested that Liam Lawson doesn't have a seat guaranteed if he even gets into F1 to which Helmut Marko remarked that Liam Lawson has an exit clause if Red Bull doesn't find a seat for him for next year in F1

at the start of the month, journalist Joe Saward reported that Logan could get replaced by Kimi Antonelli after Miami (I won't go into detail but there is multiple reasons why this is highly unlikely)

F1 Academy's first champion Marta Garcia tested with ERT during Formula E rookie test in Berlin

there are rumours about Mick Schumacher being in talks with Prema's Indycar seat

Guenther Steiner is rumoured to buy a team (or shares in a team) in F1, because reportedly the main reason he was let go of by Haas was him founding a huge sponsor for the team and offering it to Gene Haas in exchange for shareholding in the team - now he wants to take the money elsewhere

Jessica Edgar in F1 Academy scored American Express sponsorship, so she will be changing race suit into their dark blue color - and possibly also her livery

Marko Helmut hinted they want to extend Checo Perez's contract but they aren't ready to give him 3 years long extension he is asking for

David Croft said that Gasly is in talks with Williams for 2025 seat, Sainz to Audi is probable but the talks are postponed to mid-May (and Yuki and Esteban are also in talks with them) and that he thinks Guanyu will be left without a seat for 2025

McLaren's Indycar team dropped David Malukas after his hand injury (which relates closely to what I previous said about Callum Illot and Theo Pourchaire jumping in for him, I expect Theo to be named their full time driver)

Lawrence Stroll was looking to sell AM to a big name (so probably Aramco) but his condition was to keep Lance and they didn't agree so the deal fell under the table, on the other hand Honda who is set to join them in 2026 and said to immediately target the title are happy with Lance

SPONSORSHIPS AND INVESTORS

Ferrari introduced HP as their new title sponsor making them Scuderia Ferrari HP (the contract is rumouredly between 80 to 100 mil per year which is bigger than ORACLE) 🤢 - the sponsorship is for F1 Academy and Ferrari Esports teams as well

Hockenheim scored new investors who came with 250 mil Euros injection for the circuit for repairs and changes which could help it reclaim its place at F1's calendar (Thailand and South Korea are also looking to get a place on the calendar)

Lawrence Stroll is rumouredly looking to sell 25% shares in AM

Guanyu became ambassador for Beef Burger McDonald's China

this is actually month old news by SportsRush who reported that Dutch media posted it was Helmut Marko who advised Ford to pull out of the RBR sponsorship deal

Mastercard is in talks with 4 F1 teams for a title sponsor deal and apparently McLaren is the strongest candidate at this point

NEWS FOR MIAMI

Ferrari are bringing blue livery, helmets, suits, merch and GT cars to Miami as US heritage of Ferrari (they are two different shades of blue and it could also be a marketing move in preparation for the HP sponsorship that was announced a day later)

trophies by Miami GP were made by Tiffany and they were inspired by the architecture of Hard Rock Stadium

multiple teams are bringing (mostly smaller) upgrades for Miami: RB, McLaren, Mercedes, Williams

Miami GP organizers banned Trump presidental fundaraiser from the paddock

Alex will have Albon Athletics even this Wednesday in Miami in Legends Miami sneaker store

Williams is also opening a Fan Zone with drivers present

multiple teams are are bringing new merch collections: besides Ferrari, it's also McLaren, Red Bull, Williams or official F1 merch

Andretti continues hiring in all areas and are set to meet with F1 Management to discuss their F1 entry in Miami

multiple drivers already showed their special helmets with more probably to follow: Ferrari drivers, Max for all US races and Oscar

Niki Lauda's 1976 helmet from the infamous incident is going into auction in Miami

team principals will meet to discuss jump starts and how they should be judged in Miami

OTHER MOTORSPORTS SERIES

Mitch Evans won the Monaco Eprix and the team achieved 1-2 with Nick in p2

Formula E also launched GEN3 Evo before the Eprix

6 hours of Imola in WEC was won by Nyck de Vries' team although it was Ferrari 1-2-3 during quali (then Ferrari strategy strategied)

F1 Academy in Zadvoort and F2 in Barcelona finished their in-season testing (Abbi Pulling was fastest in F1 Academy and Isack Hadjar was fastes in F2)

the first Autonomous Racing League race = AI took place in Yas Marina (and you need to read it for yourself because my report wouldn't do it justice)

THE FUTURE OF F1

F1 is discussing revised point system where two more people could score (so points from p1 to p12), but the introduction was delayed and they will report on this more towards the end of the year after they collect more data

F1 commision agreed on introducing rear facing cameras from Spain onwards

Aston Martin exposed a grey area in rules when they protested Carlos stopping on track in China and FIA is exposed to clear it up to probably set a time limit when the driver has to restart the car, otherwise they won't be able to continue in the session

Domenicali told FormulaPassion that if drivers are complaining about the number of races and sprints, they are not mandatory to race (it was also a response to reports that he wants to add more sprints to the calendar)

F1 introduced new free streaming station in the US which should allowed viewers to follow F1 and junior series as well as some exclusive content

F1 reduced its carbon footprint by 13% since 2018 as per their 2023 impact report and they want to continue towards zero emissions promise by 2030

WHAT HAPPENED OFF TRACK

Irish Sun says that the victim of Horner's inappropriate behaviour hired a new legal team, she has been questioned a lot for the appeal these days, but she could get peace soon as it should get sorted by the middle of May

Grill the Grid team posted a new F1 video "Anything but F1"

Max was named one of the 100 most influential people of 2024

EA Sports released F1 24 and F1 24 Champions covers

Vogue Italy's new issue features a photoshoot including Irina Shyak and Ferrari drivers and engineers

Mercedes became the first F1 team to reach over 500m pounds turnover

Imola will be remembering Senna and Ratzenberger this week for their 30th anniversary

Valtteri the chaotic king he is, qualified for a cycling championship

Lando was apparently celebrating King's Day in Neatherlands so hard that he cut his noce on a broken glass

[summerblueringo]

Ferrari-Raikkonen agreement and Vettel gives his blessing to the choice

The [Prancing] Horse announces the signing for 2016 in advance. Arrivabene: “Stability wins. Now repay us.” The Finn: “I’m ending my career at Maranello.”

Some saw it as a done deal. It had even been defined as “a business for the quoting of Ferrari in Wall Street.” And yet it has always been clear that Valtteri Bottas’ landing in red was anything but simple: the 20 million dollars requested by Williams to release him from an already-signed option danced around. Thus in the end Bottas will not drive for the Horse. Kimi Raikkonen will remain at Maranello next year as well. Yesterday Ferrari caught everyone by surprise with the official announcement. An early move, perhaps to avoid other speculations, since in F1 market games are done in the summer, but then the announcements usually straddle the Italian GP at Monza. Raikkonen’s signing instead happened much earlier, probably the day after the Hungarian GP, beautiful and unfortunate for the Finn.

STABILITY It was understood that Raikkonen’s confirmation was likely, although not certain. The team principal Maurizio Arrivabene never alienated him, trying at most to keep him on his toes to push him into giving his best. Then Sebastian Vettel has always shown a shameless cheering for his teammate, with whom he shares a great friendship. And the technical director James Allison hasn’t pushed against it, despite Raikkonen’s difficulty in adapting to the car or perhaps even because of it. Did it weigh in Kimi’s favour that there was also an assessment of the causes of apparently inexplicable incidents like the tailspin at the hairpin in Canada or the one on the straight in Zeltweg? “We are convinced that Kimi’s confirmation will contribute to give the team stability, counting also on the excellent relationship that binds him to Seb—” Arrivabene comments— “It’s a show of trust on our part which we hope is repaid.”

VERSTAPPEN & CO The fact remains that something must have been unlocked in the last month, bringing about the positive result of the renewal talks and thus the signing. In fact Ferrari had contacted many drivers: not just Bottas, for whom at the end a convenient financial mediation was not achieved with Williams, but also Nico Hulkenberg, Jenson Button and above all Daniel Ricciardo, bound by a long-term contract with Red Bull. Even the young phenomenon Max Verstappen was among the targets: Ferrari tried to immediately snatch him from Helmut Marko, but the baby figlio d’arte* has a contract for 2016 as well that he cannot get out of, so the talk is postponed to 2017 when there will be clauses to exploit. With this (more or less credible) shortlist of candidates, the red [team] could have waited for at least Spa-Francorchamps and Monza, two races which usually change the outcome of the championship and the fate of the drivers, before confirming Raikkonen. But no.

RENEGOTIATION? The acceleration, more than for a lack of alternatives (in the end neither Kimi had them), could therefore be connected to the renegotiation of Raikkonen’s contract, who returned to Ferrari last year with a 2-year contract (2014-2015) which foresaw an option for 2016. It is possible that the Horse managed to not consider that clause, signed when Montezemolo and Domenicali were still at the helm, and discussed Raikkonen’s engagement on other bases. Maybe with a reduction of the fixed part of his salary and an increase of the bonuses connected to results. So that Kimi, currently being paid 11 million euros excluding bonuses, will earn in proportion to the performance he offers next year. Hoping that it's better than the single podium (the second place in Bahrain this year) obtained so far after his return. “Staying at Ferrari for another season means that the dream goes on. For me this is like a family and it is with this team that I want to end my career,” said the 35-year-old Finn yesterday via the press release distributed by the Horse.

NURSERY NO Now it’s up to Kimi, like Arrivabene emphasised, to repay that trust. Already starting with the GP this Sunday in Spa, promised land of the 2007 Ferrari world champion, who has won four times in Belgium: twice with McLaren and twice in his first life at Maranello. We’ll see. There remains however the mourning for a Ferrari that once again does not “risk” and makes a convenient choice, refusing for example to launch a youngster from its nursery (Marciello or Fuoco) next to super Vettel and even going to look for the competition’s foreign talent (Verstappen.) The new management, it is evident, prioritises making a winning car and no longer believes in the project of the Academy of Maranello, whose future at this point seems scratched.

*[A/N: figlio d'arte = someone who's in the same profession as their parents]

[astrojaxsaga]

I. am. exhausted.

Woof this term has been an absolute struggle. It is nothing compared to when I was previously unmedicated and pushing through writing and studying for my candidacy exam, but it is pretty damn close. Plus instead of being just a few weeks to endure this has been a relatively large and consistent stressor since basically September. I looked into my weekly hours this morning since I track them on an app (basically to help myself stay accountable and attempt to hit weekly work goals) and I realized that I have been pulling multiple 50-hour work weeks since October. 😭 No wonder my hips feel so fucked up.

I have 12 - 13 post-doc positions and fellowships that I am applying for this cycle. The last one due is Jan 15th (or Dec 31st if I don't do the 13th one). I've been glued to my desk most weekends, and only really take half days off when I am having solid writer's block/mental struggle, which sucks because then nothing feels really like a break. It would be easier in general to just get ~7 hours of work done each weekday but that's not how my ADHD works :/ I just have to haul ass whenever I finally get the motivation and just run with the hyperfocus....ugh.

Shit at home has been a struggle too; it's not enough that I have to be focused and creative and dedicated to work right now but everything else around me has to fall through as well ?? Like what the hell is that about. Not just general problems with home life which comes up sometimes, but an insane amount of financial shit. I think the worst part for me is how much I am struggling in my relationship right now. I think it boils down to, (i) work too much and need to kindof neglect a lot of things including my partner, (ii) partner feels neglected, (iii) partner reaches out to other people to get their needs met, (iv) parner neglects me to support other new people in his life, (v) I feel like I'm being replaced and since I am also neglecting myself I am upset at how much I wish I was being taken care of myself. It all just sucks but we are getting through it I think. I just wish that I felt like my needs were being considered and heard too.

I'm thinking ahead to the new year (when the nightmare will be over or at least postponed lol) and reconsidering the goals I have related to fitness. I do want to get back to 5x/week workouts, they make me feel so much better about myself because I eat so much better and sleep so much better. I'm thinking about kickstarting January off with a month of keto before pulling back and working on gaining muscle, since I wanted to do dry January anyway. I just think that a modest weight loss in the beginning especially will help my confidence and help to get me on track.

Lucky for me the leads I have for positions I think are going to pan out well. I have an interview already for a position in Copenhagen, I have some fellowships in Edinburgh that I get the sense that the group really wants me to work there and so even if I don't get the fellowship they will want to hire me funded through their ERC grant. I have 2 groups at MIT and University of Washington that I think would be a great fit. So, I hope it's all enough in the end...

[missingexaltation]

(this is a bit long and...a bit angsty I guess!)

Eddie knows he's trailer trash. It's like, an undisputed fact. He's dirt poor, with zero prospects, a criminal record and half criminal family, and definitely (one thousand percent) punching above his weight with Steve.

Steve's awesome. Rich, hilarious, friendly and brave and so so fucking loyal it hurts. Eddie's seen Steve's every personification of those traits expressed in a million ways, and he's well aware of how little he has to offer in return. He's always been aware of his faults, having had them pointed out on a daily fucking basis since before he could remember.

And the selfish, greedy, unlovable gremlin that Eddie is, won't can't let this relationship with Steve go until he has to, until Steve is the one to end it. Which won't happen, not if Eddie can help it. Not if Eddie can twist, reshape and alter himself into something that Steve can tolerate.

He knows it's woefully one sided, he's not stupid after all. He knows what it's like to be the clingy, weird kid that's impossible to get rid of, the boundary tester, the motor mouth, the freak. He knows that there's a not small part of Steve that's embarrassed of him, that appreciates it when Eddie tones himself down to something reasonably fucking normal.

Shit, one of his only solid memories of his mom is her shoving him at Wayne and begging him to 'take that fucking kid away' from her. And if his own mama couldn't love him then who the fuck could? So he doesn't blame Steve at all. It's just another fact. Up is up, the earth is round and Eddie is a broken shell masquerading as a semi-functioning adult.

It hurts though, the night he gets it confirmed. It hurts like he's been literally stabbed in the chest when he hears them whispering during movie night, almost six months into their relationship.

Robin's scared that she's losing her best friend, and Steve, assuming that he was asleep, whisper-replying that 'I mean...Eddie's fine, Bobbin, but you're my best friend, my soulmate, I'll never put anyone above us.'

So of course Eddie knows they're not going to have a fairytale ending. There's something intrinsically damaged in Eddie's biology, in his DNA that just renders him as a fond memory waiting to happen. The aberration in Steve's dating history that he'll look back on in a few decades and wonder what the hell he was thinking, (but at least it had been fun at the time?).

But. Eddie'd had the choice, there and then, on what to do.

To get up, walk and lose Steve immediately, or take the coward's way out and pretend he actually was sleeping, that he knows no better, that there's a minute fucking chance that one day Steve could love him, even if everyone around them is tapping their watches and waiting for the inevitable fallout.

And that was the funny thing, if it bought Eddie more time in this bubble, then it was the coward's way every chance he got. So that night he'd stayed still and tried not to curl into a ball and sob when Steve's arm slipped from behind his shoulder and around Robin's instead. He knows his place now, and there was a sick kind of confirmation in that, at least. The timer was set, but there was no telling when the alarm would go off.

And from that night it only escalated further. He set aside his disappointment when their alone time became simply 'alone with Robin' time (unless Steve was horny, at least that was just the two of them). He held it together each time Steve inevitably cancelled or postponed their plans because Robin needed him. He told himself it was fine when they platonically shared a bed during sleepovers with the kids, and Eddie was relegated to babysitter duty downstairs. He sat in the back seat of the car without question, lacing his own fingers together and trying to convince himself that they were joined with Steve's.

He ignored every unknowingly barbed comment that Robin made about 'boys being gross, Steve, how could you do it?', all the while internally begging Steve not to think about it too hard. He pretended he didn't see the triumphant smiles she flashed every time Steve chose her instead, the aching, empty void inside trying to justify itself and coming up short.

He acceded every time without a fight, waiting until he was inevitably alone in his bed at night and could let the agony of loneliness rip him apart, wishing that for once he could be the one chosen first and (despite daydreaming otherwise) knowing that it would never happen. It didn't happen, not for people like him.

He spent nights sleeping in his van to give Wayne and Claudia privacy (because Dustin was a nosy little fucker and they weren't ready to tell him just yet), and wished that he could be at Steve's instead, but knowing that he'd be interrupting their time together. He told Steve that he loved him, relishing in the soft, bashful little smile that he got in return, and squashed any painful, pointless hope of him saying it back.

It was fine, because if it wasn't fine, he would never recover.

Then it was three years into their relationship and holy hell Eddie would never think of not saying it. It bubbled under his skin and was branded in every atom of his existence, and if it made Steve feel good to hear it, so much the better. It was ok that Steve never said it back, it was. Steve must like Eddie enough, he wouldn't have stayed for so long if he didn't, and that was enough for Eddie.

It was fine that Steve and Robin lived together while Eddie stayed in his own apartment. If Steve wanted to live with him, he'd have asked, or at least hinted. As it was, Eddie spent most of his time juggling shitty part-time jobs and a tattoo apprenticeship, saving every cent he could after rent, in case one day he was lucky enough to get the chance to share their home.

He skipped food on their dates, opting for just a water (or a side if he had enough), as paying for both Steve and Robin's food was enough to clear him out if he wasn't careful. Three failed senior years were almost enough to financially screw him over, but not quite.

He worked long hours, but kept his head above water. It kept him busy anyway, kept his brain from obsessing over not seeing Steve for however many days it had been this time.

And he never complained. Not once. If he did, he knew that it was the end for him and Steve, and it would fucking break him when it happened. Cowardice was Eddie's middle name, if you cut him he oozed it before he bled blood.

He'd perfected it.

So when Steve and Robin came back from another impromptu vacation, and loudly proclaimed in front of their friends, the kids and their parents that they had gotten drunk married in Vegas, Eddie was surprised that he felt anything at all.

But he did.

It didn't quite register at first, until he heard the words 'my husband' out of Robin's mouth and then oh. Oh.

That was something Eddie would never have. He'd never be able to walk down the aisle and proclaim his undying love with Steve in front of their friends and family. They'd never get a first dance, or cut a cake they'd chosen, he'd never hear Wayne's proud speech or know the feeling of Steve slipping a wedding band onto his finger.

That wasn't the world they lived in.

He was an idiot. A delusional, dumb fucking idiot for thinking, hoping that one day the world would be more tolerant. Because it didn't matter.

Steve was Robin's husband, he lived with her, vacationed with her, worked with her and took her to dinners with his parents. Platonic or not, she had another part of him that Eddie could never have.

Even if the world was a kinder place for queer people in general, Eddie would never have been an option for someone like Steve. Of course not. Of fucking course not. Holy shit, he was so fucking dumb. Three failed senior years and he's still shocked at the depths of how fucking stupid he is.

He has to be grateful for what he's got.

So when the newlyweds finally remember he exists, and turn to him with glee and mirth in their eyes, he does his best not to let his shattered, grieving, shadow of a broken fucking heart show.

It wouldn't make a difference, anyway.

[dawnlibrary]

MALEC - LECRIT EDITION

because her writing is amazing!

(her profile link: Lecrit )

And the Oscar goes to...

Summary:

Working for Magnus isn’t easy. Magnus is out of control and Alec has to yell more often than not to get him to listen to him. He hates everything formal because it means he has to watch his mouth. Most importantly, Magnus is an incorrigible flirt. Which would be alright if Alec wasn’t utterly, irremediably, unfathomably in love with him. Based on this prompt: "AU where Magnus is an Oscar winning actor and Alec, his PA, is in love with him."

(Link: ao3)

Love Is Not a Victory March

by j__writes and Lecrit

Summary:

“I think we should get a divorce.” Alec and Magnus have been married for years but busy work schedules keep them apart and when they do finally manage to spend time together, they fight. A divorce seems to be their only solution at this point, but neither of them is ready to give up without a fight. And a fight it might be. After all, relationships take effort. A story about how to fall in love all over again.

(Link: ao3)

Bright Lights, Small Town

Summary:

When Magnus gets to Nashville, Indiana to handle his late mother's will, he doesn't expect to be forced to stay there for six months. Six months away from New York and lost in the wildness of the countryside. It quickly appears that he is going to go through six months of living hell. The fact that he hates the local veterinarian on sight isn't helping.

(Link: ao3)

Rumor Has It

Summary:

Magnus widens his eyes at him, silently asking him to just give him this one. Alec simply curves one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows in response, a simple gesture that carries the weight of a call for challenge. “Looks like you’re gonna have to postpone your wedding for now,” Maia giggles next to him. Magnus huffs, flexing his jaw. “Oh, it’s on, Lightwood,” he mouths at him. . Or the one where Alec and Magnus are both after the same guy, but end up falling for each other instead.

(Link: ao3)

Invictus

Summary:

“You should get a tattoo.” Alec firmly believed in coincidences, in the serendipity that could bring the hazards of life, but even he could admit that sometimes, things seemed to happen for a reason. He was too much of a pragmatic person to truly believe in fate and destiny. So even when Jace blurted those words at him as he stumbled into his shop, they remained abstract concepts to him, no matter how it nudged at the back of his mind.

(Link: ao3)

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I'm deeply ready for the days off I've planned for myself, including PRIDE night for me and wifey (and maybe some new clothes to go with? Neither of us have had a new outfit in over a year. I think maybe for wifey for sure, as her wardrobe always take harder and faster hits than mine does)

I've got a nice four day lil 4 day weekend, and a 3 day weekend to follow, so hopefully by the end of it, I will be feeling much better rested and will have gotten a few things handked around the house.

God and I have our anniversary to plan for next month already, and I'm still neck deep in initial planning for our tenth so I honestly don't even know what that's gonna look like. Maybe just a nice dinner at our favorite place? And maybe buying a new movie to watch together and cuddle. A nice jug of cider for me to spice up.

Lord I'm just tired all the time lmao, and I'm trying to get myself in order, but I'm just usually so busy or exhausted or we've run thru the paycheck for the week, or whatever the fuck.

We definitely need to buy and build the chicken run first thing during my long weekend, because it's almost butchering day for the waffles, and the ladies are almost big enough to deserve real exercise space (the hen house is huge lol, and until now genuinely has been big enough for them all to not need outdoor space at all). They can managw another week together in there with no consequences, but after that, they're gonna need their outdoor run.

I think I'll buy the berry bushes and the fencing supplies all in one go so I don't have to worry about coming back to it later and disrupting the ladies. Which really means I need to find a local nursery with native berry bushes, because I don't feel up to driving all the way down the mountain to Ream in the same weekend if I don't have to. I can save that trip for picking up our trees later in the sunmer.

Man, I really am looking forward to having the garden set up and the ladies grown enough to lay. Free fresh eggs are a huge relief on our budget, especially if we keep doing periodic waves of meat birds to keep cutting down our meat budget alongside it. I'm thinking probably 2-3 sets of meat birds per year, maybe a dozen each time? I'm never doing Cornish Rocks again tho, these little abominations are a disaster to raise. Literally every bird we lost (4 total) was a fuckin Waffle, and they always died for the stupidest reasons. One literally just ate too much and then passed out for a nap under the heat lamp until he got heat stroke because he didn't bother also hydrating???? The only other birds I've raised with this kind of mortality rate are fuckin great white turkeys and they drown in the goddamn rain. Apparently it's not just us either. If I'd taken the time to research more instead of trusting the meat and egg chick mix, I'd have seen all the other homesteaders online panicking about half their flock dying and meing warned by more experienced folks that Cornishes are really only viable for industrial scale farming that can reliably take those kinds of losses. In retrospect, now that I *do* know that, I'm almost proud we managed to keep 80% of our Waffles alive.

Point being, I'm never going through that again. There are plenty of heritage meat birds, and I'll be sticking with them please and thank you.

I've considered starting to do rabbit too? It would cut down on our pet food costs a fair bit, and then maybe I could co-graze themand the chickens in a tractor along the yard to manage overgrowth of ground cover. I'd prefer a goat obvi, but I don't think the council will let me have one, even if wifey would lmao. That's definitely a later thing tho. Gotta get the humans more sustainably fed before I can consider any new livestock lmao

I think the chicken run, the berry bushes, the first order of seeds, and a chest freezer are probably the major expenses this coming paycheck. We might be able to postpone the chest freezer? Our freezer isn't overly full at present, and I think could actually fit 20 processed Waffles if needed. We'll need one soon regardless tho, cuz it definitely won't fit the next butchering day product at that point, nor the frozen fruits, veggies, and easy preps we'll be starting to make over the summer. So if not this pay period, then the next one.

God, I guess that means I should prep all my orders so I can place them first thing on Friday when I get paid, and price out the batches. Ughhhh I'm so busy today, that's gonna be hard to make time for during my breaks, and after work it's dinner and eorzea time, plus probably some tidying.

Awww fuck i gotta bring in the washing too and maybe do another load.

Whatever. Point is, I'm gonna be busy for a while. Which is good. But also means I have less time to sit and think and write which does make me a lil sad. It's just until harvest season is through tho! Once everything is planted and plucked and canned and stored, I'll be back to having time for other things. I'm probably gonna prioritize my writing and my sewing thru the winter so I can be ready for fiber processing in spring and publishing season in summer/fall. I'll want to get back to the zine soon too, because I really do want to add in the documentation I've been building around appalachian riperians

Lordt

Someone needs to tell my brain to pick a goddamn lane. This is how I end up pulled in so many directions that nothing gets done lmao