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killerpancakeburger · 10 hours

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KNIGHT IN SHINING KHAKI

Gif by @bastardcompany

SUMMARY: You've angered the wrong officer. You think you're a goner when Johnny sweeps in to save the day.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Depressed!Reader, Insecure!Reader, Angry!Soap, Protective!Soap, GuardDog!Soap, canon violence, hurt/comfort, swearing, blood mention. Ghost makes an appearance as a matchmaker lol. The love is requited they're just insecure idiots. Making Shit Up for the Plot/military inaccuracies.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: My original prompt for this was: civilian!reader sees Soap in action and gets Horny. No Scared Just Horny.

Then I found out that Soap canonically beat up an officer. I am also obsessed with this video.

In my mind this follows Breaking Point (same depressed Reader), but you don't need to have read it to get this!

This is it, you thought to yourself.

This is how I die.

The day had unfolded like any other. Your shift was over and you were locking up your office, as usual. Your attention was focused on your hands’ motion, your guard dropped, your back exposed.

This explained why, when the stranger grabbed your hair and bashed your head against the door mercilessly, you didn’t see it coming in the slightest. The fact that you had zero combat experience while the person manhandling you was a decorated military officer obviously made matters worse, but at the moment of the assault, you didn’t know that.

The thud of the collision was eclipsed almost immediately by the pain exploding in your face. Half-stunned, all you could comprehend at the moment, every single signal sent by your brain was compacted in one word: suffering. Sharp, all-encompassing. You yelped, your hands vainly pushing against the cold, hard surface to get away.

“I've finally found you, you little snitch. Didn’t think you'd get away with it, now did you?”

Despite the blood thumping in your ears, and how groggy the hit on your head made you, his words reached you perfectly. They were seeping with fury and disdain. His voice didn’t ring a bell, so you tried to turn your head to glimpse him, if only at the corner of your eye, and he granted you some leeway to do so.

Perplexity filled you as you finally caught sight of your aggressor: you've never seen that man before.

“I don't even know who you are,” you winced.

Talking back in your situation would be judged stupid and reckless by a majority of people. Laying low assured more chances to avoid harm.

However most people hadn't been mugged at knifepoint like you had been, and most people valued their lives way more than you did.

Once the confusion and incredulity subsided, the pain still vivid but manageable, you were left with frustration and anger towards your interminable bad luck and the man behind you. His aversion was harder to take seriously when it seemed to have no foundation.

The grip on your hair tightened, making you grit your teeth.

“I'll refresh your memory, then.”

One part of you managed to be pleased to know that this mystery would be solved; the rest was ringing alarm bells when hearing the underlying threats in his tone.

“Weeks ago, you filed a report for embezzlement.”

You frowned, having no recollection of his claims, before a memory emerged. You saw them in flashes: the sudden, abnormally high spendings, the certificates full of anomalies, the incoherent dates; all this lead you to complete a reporting form, just as your job required you to. It was just a formality. You hadn't even even paid attention to the name attached to the expenses, therefore the officer was still anonymous.

Your aggressor scoffs menacingly, easily reading on your face that you remembered.

“They're gonna strip me of my rank and throw me in jail because of you. I'll make you pay even if it’s the last thing I do.”

That last sentence was finished in an almost shout, making you flinch, wishing you could pass through the door.

You quietly resigned yourself to your fate. No one was coming for you. You were no stranger to the inner workings of the military - no one would dare cross an officer that high-ranked for your sake.

I've lived a good li- well, no. A pretty shitty life, actually. But at least I can say I did the right thing.

Just as you closed your eyes and braced yourself, hoping this wouldn’t drag on, a Scottish-accentuated roar resonated in the empty hall.

“Get yer hands off her-”

You had never heard Soap sound so enraged, nor his pitch so gravelly. Relief flooded through you at the sound of his voice, blended with gratitude. Tears stinged the corners of your eyes.

All of a sudden the unyielding grip on your hair was gone, the sound of something violently hitting the wall punctuating your newfound freedom.

“-ye fucking bastard!”

You immediately turned around to see what was happening, leaning against the door behind you. Your legs were too shaky to be reliable. The harmed side of your face was throbbing in pain as you took in the scene with wide eyes.

Johnny had pinned the officer against the wall with one forearm across his chest. He dealt him a punch to the face powerful enough that the resulting thud made you grimace, despite not feeling any sympathy for his target.

He managed to administer a second blow before his adversary snapped out of his stupor, and the advantage he gained from taking him by surprise ran its course.

As your assailant defended himself with the strength of someone backed into a corner, you couldn't help but fear for Soap's safety for a moment. Despite knowing that one's rank didn’t reflect their fighting prowess, a rush of anxiety passed through you at the idea that he could lose that confrontation.

Nonetheless, he quickly put your mind at ease as his skills proved to be largely superior. The gap between the two was deep enough that it was obvious even to a neophyte like you.

Paralyzed, you couldn’t do anything but stare at the display of violence with a mix of morbid fascination and sadistic satisfaction. Honestly, if you could borrow Soap's body, you would without a doubt inflict the same treatment on that man. Maybe worse. Fair payback for the threats, the smashing of your face, the probable trauma you'd get from this. Maybe not that fair. But maybe for once you'd stop trying to act like a paragon of virtue.

You should have been scared, you realized. You had never been involved in a fight before. You had never witnessed firsthand the brutality Johnny was capable of, despite being aware of it, between his status as a soldier and the reports you read. The dog tags jingling from his neck and the khaki of his uniform were like so many visual reminders that he was a killing machine. His ferocious wrath, his yelling and his punches should have made you cower in fright.

However the only feeling inhabiting you was safety, as paradoxical as it sounded. Soap was safe, you were convinced of it, consciously or not.

This whole ordeal felt like it lasted an eternity and a minute at the same time. You blinked and out of nowhere, Johnny was straddling the officer on the floor. Blows kept pouring in but they were one-sided - the sergeant had gained the upper hand. The rhythm of his strikes seemed attuned to the beatings of your heart. Each resonated inside of your ears with your skull as their echo chamber. The noise was loud enough to cover your own thoughts.

As you focused on your breathing, you managed to slow down your heartbeats, and the blood-fueled pump between your ribs no longer felt like it could burst out of your chest at any moment. You failed however to contain the tremor in your hands.

You chose to focus on Soap's hands instead. They were soaked red from blood spilled, but not his. Specks of crimson sprinkled his hair, his face, his neck, his t-shirt.

There was a certain sort of lethal beauty to this brutal display that you couldn't help but contemplate in reverent silence: the way his bicep swole when he threw his arm back before hitting his target. The tightening of the muscles beneath the tanned skin of his arms. His icy stare. The harsh line of his jaw. His stern, inflexible expression, one he usually wore in meetings or after Price gave the order to leave.

The expression of someone who would stop at nothing, provided a bleak little voice in the back of your mind. The idea didn’t bother you nearly as much as it should have.

“Not gonna make him stop?”

The familiar grunt of Ghost's voice almost made you jump out of your skin. You pivoted and the behemoth of a lieutenant was there, in casual clothes, right by your side. You had no idea when he arrived or how long he's been standing there, quiet like a shadow.

Something dark flashed in his brown eyes as his gaze lingered on the hurt side of your face.

“Why would I show mercy to someone who would have granted me none?” you scoffed bitterly.

“Someone's bloodthirsty.”

“You're one to talk.”

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You turned your attention back to Soap and Ghost did the same.

“I doubt he would listen to me.”

“He would,” stated the masked man, with the assertiveness of someone announcing a conviction.

“But if ya don't believe me…”

A beat, then.

“Oï, Johnny!”

The shout was nonchalant, like it was something he did often, calling off his sergeant from some prey like the Scotsman was his personal attack dog.

The effect was immediate.

Soap abruptly froze, blinking a couple times as if awakening from a trance. Then he perked up, and turned around, eyes searching. The first sound that left his lips was a call of your name. His gaze latched onto you and didn’t let go as he stood up and rushed towards you. The naked vulnerability, the raw openness in his voice and on his face were so earnest that they felt like a Cupid's arrow shot straight between your lungs. It left you devoid of speech and motion, so as Johnny reached for you, all you could do was try to convey your reassurances through your eyes; that you were mostly fine, and so grateful, but worried for him, that he made everything better-

His arms closing around you made the outside disappear, and suddenly the whole world came down to Johnny, and only him. His embrace was enjoyable for a second before the pressure of his body against your face woke up your contusions. You let out a muffled cry of pain and he released you immediately, swearing and apologizing. However his hands didn’t leave you, grasping your shoulders.

“C'mere hen, lemme have a look at ye.”

“Oh, I'm fine, you should worry about-”

Your voice pathetically died in your throat as he cupped your face, leaning over, way too close for your heart to not start stammering uncontrollably.

The combined attention of his fingertips on your skin and the turquoise of his eyes roaming your visage turned your cheeks into a blazing inferno.

Unable to maintain eye contact, your gaze wandered over his own injuries, a split lip and a couple of bruises.

Suddenly he grabbed your chin between his thumb and index, tilting your face one way and the other. Your skin flared up at the contact, pleasant yet nervous tingles scattering all over your body.

“Ye sure he didn’t hit ye on that side? Yer a wee bit red.”

You bit back a whine of complaint at that comment. He couldn’t be that oblivious.

“Yer makin’ it worse, Johnny.” sneaked Ghost, the amusement manifest in his voice - at least to you.

Soap looked up to him, frowning in incomprehension, indignant.

“The hell ya on aboot L.T.? How am ah makin’ it worse?”

You panicked.

“Shut up Riley!” you hissed, in a desperate attempt to put a stop to his shenanigans, forgetting that you were supposed to be severely intimidated by the masked man.

That drew a gruff chuckle out of him. Your sudden outburst caused Johnny to release you.

“Not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you two even here, anyway?”

You were kind of proud of your ability to change the subject.

“Was comin’ tae get ye fer a game,” smiled Soap, and it reminded you of a pet proudly presenting its owners with its findings.

“This one wasn’t coming back, and neither of you were answering your phones, so we figured somethin’ went wrong. And we were right. This poor fucker is wanted. Called in reinforcements to deal with him.”

Footsteps’ noises caught your attention. A group of soldiers in uniform seized your aggressor and brought him to his feet, before unceremoniously shoving him in the direction opposite of you.

“Gotta tell Gaz the game ain't happening tonight.”

By the time you took in what Ghost had said, and turned away from the procession, he had already disappeared.

“This isn’t over,” menaced the officer, passing by your spot as he was hauled away. “When I get out-”

“Shut the fuck up,” snarled Soap instantly, protectively positionning himself in front of you.

“Found yourself a faithful guard dog, uh?” the other man taunted.

One one hand, that last remark wasn’t so far from the truth - he had been acting a lot like that: barking threats, baring his teeths, standing between you and the menace, reducing a man to a bloody pulp for hitting you…

But on the other hand, letting that piece of shit talk to Johnny this way was simply out of the question.

Before thinking, you found yourself walking in front of the sergeant and retorting.

“What, jealous he's ten times the man you'll never be?”

Fortunately for you, he was dragged away before he could snap anything back. That didn’t prevent you from regretting your snarky comment immediately. It had been a purely impulsive urge, the kind that could make you feel heavy remorse for days, if not years. As if this seasoned combat expert needed your aid to defend himself. The idea was ludicrous.

You didn’t get a moment to mope around however, as Johnny proceeded to grab you by the hips and press you flush against him with a jubilant smirk. You couldn’t do much except prop yourself with both hands on his pectorals to avoid stumbling.

“My hero.” he praised like a smitten damsel in distress.

“Look who's talking.”

You lowered your gaze despite yourself, mumbling your reply, a half smile on your lips, embarrassed but amused.

“Going after bastards is mah job, not yours. You gutsy little thing.”

You refrained a sarcastic laughter at the nickname - gutsy and little were two things you have never been called, as far as you can remember. But you weren't about to argue with the man who just saved your sorry ass.

His fingers pressed into your flesh, sending tickles at the bottom of your spine.You were about to ask him to let you go, the position too incriminating for this public setting, when you noticed how dilated his pupils were. He had to be high on adrenaline from the fight.

You may have let yourself get lost in the blue pools of his eyes, until his expression turned grave.

“Ye sure yer good? Yer too calm about this. No need tae put oan a brave face fer me, aye?”

The genuine, serious concern in his eyes made the inside of your stomach twist.

“I'm good. You arrived just in time,” you assured.

How peculiar it felt to be the one to comfort Johnny, rather than the opposite; that the lionhearted, superhuman sergeant Mactavish might even need such a thing; that he might require it from you, of all people.

“He didn’t get to do much.”

His pretty features contorted into a scowl at the reminder of your attacker.

“That sonuvabitch… raising a hand on ye in broad fuckin’ daylight… if he ever touches ye again, I swear I’ll…”

As he kept fulminating against your assailant, you couldn’t stop an endeared smile from spreading on your lips. Listening to one of Soap's rants brightened your mood; it was familiar. The sincerity in his words and his tone was welcome. He wasn’t able to fake those emotions even if he wanted to; they spilled out of him like a waterfall. His honest worry and righteous ire towards someone who hurt you was… flattering, in a sense. It made you feel cared for, like you mattered.

Then red started dripping.

“Johnny… your nose is bleeding.”

He wiped it negligently with the back of his hand, only succeeding in smearing it over his face. You couldn’t hold back a snort.

“Bend over. It will stop faster.”

“Buy me dinner first.”

He punctuated his quip with a suggestive wriggle of his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes.

“Let's just go to medical already.” you grumbled, starting to walk decisively, albeit stiffly, in the right direction.

“Aye, aye,” acquiesced your savior, jogging a bit to catch up to you.

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pretty-little-mind33 · 3 days

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Tom Ryder x fem!actress!reader

Summary: Tom books a role in a musical with the only one goal in mind. He wants to work with an actress he's been crushing on forever—you.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: arrogant/asshole Tom (duh), swearing

~ thank you for requesting this, anon 🫶💖 ~

Tom Ryder doesn't like singing. He doesn't even like musicals! He's an action star, goddamnit! This meant that when his agent came up to him one day and said he'd gotten him an audition for a new musical, Tom laughed at him.

"A musical, Danny, and it's a romance?! What the flying fuck do I even pay you for?" he complains as he lies on the couch of his trailer, his arms flexed behind his head.

"It's good for publicity and it shows you have some range, Ryder!" Danny explains as calmly as he can, already annoyed with Tom's childish behavior.

Tom waves his hand as if to shoo him away.

"I have range. I don't need to prove anything to anyone," he says condescendingly. Danny pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He walks over to Tom and drops a magazine into his lap.

"Y/n Y/l/n already took the part. She's the lead. They're casting her love interest," he says with a knowing smirk as Tom scrambles into a sitting position. He quickly reads the headlines as his eyes roam around your picture.

Tom's crush on you isn't a secret to anyone who works with/for him. He's madly in love with you to the point it's embarrassing because you've spoken maybe twice at an award show and nothing more.

"When's the audition?" he asks Danny immediately.

* * *

Tom is grateful for his naturally decent voice and the year of vocal training he'd taken a few years ago because that means while he doesn't usually sing, he doesn't completely suck.

He's never, in all his years of acting, tried so hard for a role so when Danny tells him he got the part, he makes a very unattractive squeal as he celebrates.

He's over the moon until his first day when he realizes he has to actually work with you now. Color drains from his face and he pushes up his cool-dude pink-tinted sunglasses to hide how anxious he must look.

He sees you sitting in your chair, scrolling your phone. Shit, you're as gorgeous in person as he remembers, he thinks and he internally panics as he feels like he's floating.

"Sup," he says nonchalantly, taking a seat in his chair next to yours.

Sup? What the fuck.

You look up, smiling at him, "Oh, hi," you turn to him and outstretch your hand, "I'm Y/n."

Tom blinks as he stares at your hand.

Do you really think he doesn't know who you are?! Or do you just introduce yourself to everyone you meet?

With a confused expression, he clears his throat and shakes your hand.

"Ryder," he says, "Tom Ryder."

You smile at him. "Okay, James Bond," you joke.

Tom flushes pink, "I was just introducing myself—y'know—being humble and all. I don't know why it's needed though," he sniffs arrogantly, "You obviously know who I am, and I obviously know who you are," he says, his douchiness involuntarily slipping out.

You narrow your eyes at him. "Obviously," you echo, your tone curt as you turn to look down at your phone again.

Tom panics. No girl has ever just ignored him like this. He leans closer, clearing his throat. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?" he asks, pretending your lack of interest in him isn't bruising his enormous ego.

You huff, sending him a look. "No, your lack of self-awareness just rendered me speechless for a moment, Tom Ryder," you say sarcastically and then grin. "But, you'want some friendly advice? Co-star to co-star? Pull your head out of your fucking ass and realize not everyone here worships the ground you walk on because you can learn a few lines."

Tom's entire face burns crimson as his mouth opens in shock. You stand and clap your hands on your thigh as if you'd forgotten something and then you turn to look at him once more. "Oh, and introduce yourself to people around here. It's common courtesy. Toodles," you wave teasingly and spin on your heels to the makeup department.

Tom's never felt more like an idiot in his entire life. Somehow, he managed to make a fool of himself and also make you hate him all in one simple interaction.

Fuck this. He rubs a hand over his jaw and composes himself. At least work will go well—as it usually does.

* * *

He's so so wrong.

Turns out, working on a musical and a romance is much harder than action star Tom Ryder ever imagined. By the end of the day, he's completely embarrassed by not only his table reading but how croaky his voice sounded when in the studio, and he's so so close to calling Danny and begging him to bail him out of this.

He stares at himself in the mirror of his dressing room and he prepares to bang his head on the wall when he hears a knock on his door.

"What?" he mutters, slumping down on his couch as he pops an ibuprofen in his mouth to calm his headache.

When the door opens, you're standing there, holding up two bubble-milk drinks. "I come in peace," you whisper and Tom sits up instantly.

"Y/n," he whispers, blushing.

"Tom Rdyer," you smile and hand him one of the drinks. "Rough day, huh?"

Tom coughs. "Wasn't that bad," he shrugs and sips on the drink, looking up at you behind his silly sunglasses. "Thanks for this," he says, a little confused because he'd definitely gotten the impression you hated him.

You nod and sit next to him, "You'll do fine" you reassure him, looking around his dressing room and then back at him, "you're just not used to this type of movie…yet. But I think it's admirable to change your scene so drastically so if you ever need me, I'm here for you. After all, what are co-stars for?" you smile kindly.

Tom feels his heart leap in his chest as his pupils dilate.

"Thanks," he mumbles again, unsure how to deal with a situation like this. Usually, he'd make a snide comment or even a crude joke to calm his nerves, but he doesn't want to do that with you so he just sits in silence.

He's truly not used to this awkward silence with women. He doesn't have to think very hard to know that by now he'd usually have his tongue shoved down their throats, his hand under their shirts as he whispers meaningless praises in their ears.

But, you're different. Tom doesn't want that with you—not so soon anyway—and he hates this new feeling he has whenever you're around. It makes him feel weak and mushy.

"I saw your last movie," you say, making conversation. "I was really diggin' the gold cowboy outfit," you laugh and if Tom pretends really hard he hears some flirtation in your voice.

His lips curl up into a smirk which eventually morphs into a smile.

"Ah-ha," you grin and playfully poke the soft dimples that appear on his cheeks. "I was wondering when you'd drop that douchey smirk and smile at me."

Tom looks stunned by how easily you read him.

"What douchey smirk? I don't have a douchey smirk," he defends and scrunches his nose in disgust, staring at you like you've gone insane but you just bend your knee on the couch and turn to him.

"You definitely do," you laugh and pull out your phone as you type something.

"What're you doing?" Tom moves closer, suddenly anxious.

You pull your hand away as he leans in and when you muffle a laugh and turn your phone screen to him, you giggle and his face falls.

"Douchey smirk," you say and point at the screen; which displays a random picture of him from Google during some red-carpet event he doesn't even remember.

"Google is absolute shit," Tom exclaims and he debates retaliating with a picture of you, but he knows he wouldn't find one where he would find you ugly.

You're always gorgeous.

"Now you're just being mean, sweetheart," he says and the pet names slip past his lips unconsciously. Luckily, you don't mention it or seem put off. Tom's shoulders relax.

"What? You don't like it?" you turn your phone again and swipe the screen, looking at more pictures. "It's not like you could ever look bad."

Tom bites the inside of his cheek. Again, if this was any other girl, he would take that as an invitation to flirt heavily. With you? He's a blushy mess that doesn't seem to have any smooth moves anymore.

You put your phone away and smile. "No snarky comment, Mister Big-Shot?"

He chuckles and his real smile returns. "Not tonight."

You sit up and look into his eyes. You don't seem by any means nervous when you say, "You're an intriguing character, Tom Ryder. I do like that. How about you take me out to dinner tonight—if you can clear your clearly very busy schedule." You gesture to whatever he had been doing in his dressing room (which had only been some self-loathing).

Tom's never been asked out by a woman. He's usually the one asking them out and he'd assumed he'd hate not being the one to take charge but this feels so natural. "Like a date?"

You laugh and stand up, sipping on your bubble milk. "Like dinner. I'll see if I'll give you an upgrade by the end of the night," you say with a wink and Tom melts right then and there.

He accepts instantly, also liking the challenge, and he takes you to dinner. He takes you to your favorite restaurant, ignoring that he very much dislikes Thai food, and he plays the perfect gentleman—or rather, he doesn't even have to play a gentleman because you seem to bring it out of him naturally.

It's almost midnight as he walks you back to your car, his arm almost touching yours as you both walk side-by-side, stuck in a light-hearted debate about book adaptations turned into movies.

Occasionally, he'll check to make sure his security team is walking behind you but his hand with twitch to steady around your waist in case he also needs to keep you safe from some crazy fans or unsuspected paparazzi.

"You don't seem like the type to read much," you say, feeling content as your heels click against the pavement. You feel safe around him and you smile at the feeling of his fingers sometimes skimming your waist.

"I read," he frowns and then pauses, "I read a lot of scripts."

You laugh, liking his blunt honesty.

Tom's chest swells at the sound of your laugh. He'd managed to bring it out of you on more than one occasion tonight and he wears each time like a badge of honor—even if he's 95% sure you're laughing at him.

When you arrive at your car, you turn to him and Tom opens his mouth to ask the question that has been on his mind all night, "So, was this a date?" but instead, your arms wrap around him and you kiss his lips. It's quick, almost fleeting and he wonders if he'd imagined the entire thing.

"I don't usually kiss anyone on the first date," you say, slightly more nervous now, "so don't make me regret it, Tom Ryder," you whisper and his hand almost clutches at your waist to pull you in for another kiss but instead he holds the door for you to climb into your car.

He sends you a nervous smile and then watches as your car disappear around the corner. "I promise I won't," he whispers into the air knowing he means every word.

He's never taken his time with anyone, but he'll stop time entirely just to spend every second he can with you.

#tom ryder x reader #tom ryder x fem!reader #tom ryder fluff #tom ryder x y/n #tom ryder x you #tom ryder fanfiction #tom ryder smut #tom ryder #tom ryder fic #tom ryder the fall guy #the fall guy aaron taylor johnson #the fall guy #tom ryder imagines #tom ryder imagine #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #tom 🎬

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weird-an · 2 days

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"You know, the weirdest thing happened today," Wilson begins casually, but in the way House knows he's internally shaking with anticipation. "HR asked for my marriage certificate."

"Which one?" House asks, sucking loudly on his strawberry milkshake - well, technically Wilson's, but who can really tell.

"The one from this month," Wilson says, his big eyes all knowing. "They even congratulated me."

"Peculiar." House keeps himself busy with the milkshake.

"June is a good month to get married," Wilson continues and his fingers tap nervously on House's desk. "But I can't remember getting married."

"If you repeat an act often enough, it becomes forgettable," House offers innocently like he hasn't tried to forge Wilson's signature to the perfection until he was able to send it. With an extensive, dramatic story of an illness that made it impossible for anyone to meet him or witness the ceremony. It's a rather terrible condition - being House's husband.

"I don't remember you proposing," Wilson grits his teeth.

"That was you," House says truthfully, because he's still got the ring. "In public!"

"I repeat: I don't remember getting married either. House, what were you thinking?" Wilson doesn't sound as upset as he thinks he is.

"We drank a bottle of champagne that evening." Wilson just didn't know what they were celebrating. It was definitely not House skipping clinic duty for the sixth week in a row - he isn't an amateur after all.

"Why are we married and why didn't you tell me?" Wilson grabs House by the collar. House nearly isn't able to set the milkshake aside, but somehow manages.

"You're so close to swearing happily forever after to yet another nurse," House explains, staring Wilson into his huge stupid beautiful eyes. "But the only relationship you keep investing into is ours."

Wilson opens his mouth and closes it again. He's wearing his fuck me cologne. House resents it for its meaning, but it smells good on him.

"But what about the sex?" he asks, still tugging at House's collar.

"Wow, that's your only worry?" House is a little surprised, he didn’t think it would be that easy. "Not the drugs but the penis?"

Wilson's eyes flicker down.

Gotcha, House thinks. Bye bye heterosexuality.

"Only one way to find out," Wilson says, pressing his lips on House. House kisses him back with all the longing he had saved for years now.

Wilson tastes as good as he looks.

"Glad we saved that one for marriage," House jokes, a bit out of breath.

"You owe me a honeymoon and a bachelor's party," Wilson grumbles.

House can deal with that.

#house absolutely would do that #he's got the tickets and karamel booked already #hatecrimes md #gregory house #james wilson #hilson #house md #house x wilson

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manicpixiedreamedwins · 2 days

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I know we all joke about Charles Rowland having these over-exaggerated people pleasing tendencies, but I just want to say they make a lot of sense for someone who grew up in the hell hole of a home that he did.

(Now's the time to dip if you don't want to read something kind of heavy and also really messy, sorry. CW for mentions of Charles' home life)

The night nurse gave us some insight into what Charles' home life looked like (that, and we can piece together how he must have been feeling from his reactions to the Devlin house). We know he had a volatile, objectively abusive parent. We know he and his mother were terrified of this man, enough that he keeps checking in to try and make sure that his mom is still okay all these years later.

Alright. Still with me?

There's this thing that happens to kids who grow up in households like this (trust me).

Because one parent is so volatile, they learn to model after the other parent who is constantly keeping the peace. They're constantly walking on eggshells, they have to be hyper-vigilant of even slight differences in the atmosphere to prevent a catastrophe. If they have needs or wants, then those needs and wants are not being met. If there are problems (there are) then they are not being talked about (ever, and if they try then all hell breaks loose and there are consequences).

These kids form a facade of "everything is fine, there are no problems and we are happy here". You know, what we would call a people pleaser.

This is Charles. This is very much a survival instinct, it kept him reasonably safe in life (truly, he only died once he deviated from it and "rocked the boat" so to speak).

In all fairness, it has worked out fine for him in death too- Edwin responds well to it. Edwin actually does react very well to Charles' attempts at merry making, deep breathing, even his playful ideas like boardgames and boxing. What he knows works, actually. It works so well he's stuck around for thirty years, so in his mind he probably doesn’t think he should change anything.

The second time he deviated from people pleasing, in all fairness, even when he had to or else he would get separated from Edwin, also didn't work out well. He reacted on genuine, earnest feelings. He was fucking angry when the night nurse showed him his trauma. He was pretty raw when he pushed her over the bridge and into the fish. That was all earnest, uncensored emotion, not a measured act.

Edwin reacted poorly. Everyone reacted poorly. Back to people pleasing.

Charles is really only confused when people pleasing doesn't work. When he reaches out to try and befriend Monty and gets snubbed, I think he's genuinely confused. He can't figure what's wrong. This always works. It always works with Edwin at least. So what's wrong?

That continues on when he's doing everything he'd typically do to engage Edwin while he's reading and it's just... not working (because remember the hyper-vigilance- he knows something is different and so he's unsettled).

This continues onto the roof scene. He knows something is completely and utterly fucked (he just doesn't know it is between Monty and Edwin, or that Crystal’s powers are gone) and he's uncomfortable. In a previous life, he'd be waiting for the other shoe to drop and something to hurt.

He's relieved when Edwin finally starts opening back up a little and trying to talk to him. Yes, he misinterprets what's happening at first (he assumes Edwin is coming out in general, as opposed to trying to tell him he likes him), but things are going back to normal in his mind.

They're reconnecting. He does get a little uneasy because there's still one wall between them (the cat king) that he can't manage, joke, or talk his way out of yet because Edwin hasn't explained yet.

This gets interrupted anyway. (At least there's no more cat bracelet, lol. A win for Charles).

There's more pressing issues, though- he needs to rescue Edwin from hell. He literally cannot be separated from him. Their whole thing has been not being separated from each other since... well since the start. So he keeps his promise, sloughs through the depths of hell, and goes to get him. Easy enough! He disarms the babydoll spider with a bomb, a moltov cocktail, and Edwin's journal. This was probably the least of his problems.

Success. He's got Edwin back. His afterlife is good again. Now things can go on as normal.

Only FUCK! Now Edwin is asking him to express... his... feelings...

-Well. Look how well it went the last time Charles did anything on his own volition. First he died, then he pushed Edwin away. This seems kind of important. He can't fuck this up, but they are literally running out of hell, but he can't fuck this up because that would mean he pushes Edwin away-

He comes up with something that feels close to right, measured, things that Edwin has responded well to before (and under all of that he asks him to stay, please stay, be patient, but it comes out as a declaration because that seems more certain). He cannot lose Edwin here.

They run back up the stairwell together. Charles hopes maybe Edwin understood.

Charles wishes he had better words on the roof. He doesn't, other than to reassure Edwin they're okay-- he would have wanted that. The last time he said anything, it was too extreme. He says nothing and hopes maybe Edwin will give him some sort of clue on what to do again, eventually.

Idk, maybe I'll write more later but... this is so fascinating to me because it's like so obvious as someone who grew up in the absolute tar pit that Charles did. He's not dumb, or making arbitrary choices with what he's doing here. He is doing what he knows works to keep what's important to him close to him. He's just wildly out of his depth when that doesn't work.

#dead boy detectives #meta #charles rowland #payneland #Charles x Edwin #I mean the meta is sort of slanted that direction #oops #anyway #cw domestic abuse #canon event- Charles' homelife #my posts

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yuurei20 · 24 hours

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Hi YuuRei! How are you?

In terms of the students in the main cast, the only ones I know that have a driver’s license canonically would be mostly Leona, but also Lilia, sort of. (It is expired if I recall correctly). I couldn’t help but notice that it is likely that people in Twisted Wonderland don’t really need a permit or license to operate a Magical Wheel? It certainly is interesting since it is kind of like a motorcycle. Thank you!

Hello hello! Thank you very much for this question, I never expected it to be such a rabbit hole! ^^

⚠️Tamashna Muina Spoilers below!⚠️ (and technically above 💦)

It does seems possible that Lilia's license has expired, but also possible that he never had one in the first place? He does not seem to be able to remember!

The revelation of Leona's driver's license was a fascinating one because, as you say, Deuce has been riding Magical Wheels since middle school, somewhere between the ages of 13 and 15 years old!

Epel says he had a neighbor who would take him out for rides back home, but in his dorm vignette he says he has "always wanted to ride" one, implying that the opportunity from Vil to drive one for the Film Club was possibly his first time ever driving on his own--with nothing about licenses ever mentioned!

We get a vague explanation about how magical wheels work in Book 5 from a bully who says that, while you can drive a magical wheel without magic, he just happens to have enough magic to work one.

They have technomantic batteries to power them but those seem to be meant as back-ups: they are designed to be powered at least partially by magic.

And this is very reminiscent of certain road traffic laws that exist in Japan! :>

As explained here, "vehicles" like electric bicycles must, by law, have an "assistance" function in Japan (such as pedal power) to keep them from being 100% motorized.

If your electric bicycle does not require pedaling then it is no longer considered a bicycle--it is an automobile--and you will need a license in order to ride it.

And this does not only apply to bicycles, but other electric modes of transportation such as electric scooters and skateboards!

(I know someone with an electric skateboard imported from overseas who keeps the remote control stealthily in a pocket so as not to be caught 👀 It is more than an "electric assistant", it is 100% electric, which classifies the skateboard as an automobile under the law!)

Things are changing recently, with an alteration to the law in 2023 (seen above, full article here) to allow people to ride electric kick scooters for businesses such as rental services.

Until July 2023, though, even electric scooters required a driver's license, as they are 100% motorized--and maybe the same thing is being applied to magical wheels?

Is it possible that magical wheels are legal to drive without licenses because they are not 100% electric and require magical assistance, just like assisted bicycles that require pedaling? 🧐

Except!

When Riddle balks at being asked to drive a chariot in Book 6 a STYX staff member explains that they maneuver just like blastcycles. Riddle responds with, "I should've taken taken driving lessons and gotten a technomantic vehicle license," so maybe blastcycle licenses actually are a thing? 🧐

Except "technomantic vehicle" might be implying vehicles like the chariot that are 100% technomantic power and not Magical Wheels, which integrate magic! Do they not technically count, much like partially-pedal-powered electric bicycles?

Riddle comments, "Then again, this IS private property. Maybe I don't have to worry about (a driver's license)."

Do maybe the laws vary by country? Was hooligan-Deuce illegally driving those blastcycles in middle school, or are laws more lax in the Queendom of Roses (Riddle's reaction would lead one to believe otherwise ww), or does the Queendom not consider them automobiles at all?

Is Epel able to drive that blastcycle on campus (and with Vil's encouragement) because NRC is private property? Was Deuce breaking the law when he took Epel off campus, or are blastcycles treated like electric bicycles on Sage's Island?

While magical wheel-specific licenses do technically exist, they were a product of an April Fool's campaign and are probably not supposed to be considered canon to the game ^^

Twst once had a delightful theme of introducing magical-wheel-inspired content for April Fool's!

While the theme seems to have been discontinued from 2024, the 2022 video that was created for JP-server players has been translated here!

And here is an explanation of the content from 2023!

The 2023 campaign included not only the physical magical wheel driver's license for prefects (with a purchase of a magical wheel tape dispenser), but also a magical wheel for the guest room, while the 2022 campaign included a title that you can use in the game: Magical Wheel License! ^^

The EN-server has never acknowledged April Fool's and it is unclear if items such as the title or the guest room furniture (a magical wheel in 2023 and a TV in 2024 that plays the Absolutely Beautiful performance first screened at Twst Fes) will ever reach on EN, but maybe one day!

#twisted wonderland #twstask

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misspookiehere · 1 day

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HE TAXED HIS PEOPLE TO DEATH? His provided lots of flexibility in his tax system.

When Lucien was explaining Feyre he said if they don't pay in 3 days Tamlin is expected to hunt them down.

But during tithe Tamlin said they have 3 days or the offer double next tithe. He don't want to hunt them down.

Plus they can literally give anything. Money is not necessary.

Girly thinks Rhysand have a tree that grows money or maybe they got occasional money rain in Velaris. Huh? How do you think he is running his court.

THE WEIRD ORGY FESTIVAL?

Lo jiii now their fae tradition that they've been doing for thousands of years is now suddenly Tamlin's fault.

SOMEONE HAS TO GIVE THEMSELVES TO HIM?

Girly make it seem like he is dragging women to sleep with him. All the women participating in Calanmai is there on their own.

LOCKED HER IN

Yes he locked her in, biggest mistake but did he controlled what she eats?,did he forced her to do physical training?,did he forced her to work with no salary? Did his people in the mansion was verbally lashing on her? When she locked Nesta in the name of therapy they forced her to do all of these things.

Pls don't start saying that in Nesta's case all these things helped her. Bcoz in Feyre's case staying in the mansion will make sure she is still breathing. Do I need to remind you that Attor & Hybern were still lurking in the SC borders ready to snatch her any moment they got. Yes in SC borders bcoz at this point everybody knows she is in SC they don't exactly have to find her. They are more closer to her than she thinks.

GAVE HER SISTERS TO HER ENEMY?

I thought this one is clear. Looks like I still need to talk about this. Tamlin & Lucien didn't know about Ianthe's plan. How did Ianthe know about her sisters? Almighty Feyre herself told her in details.

And also didn't they visited her sisters when Rhysand was fully aware that Attor was tracking them. And then they invited those Queens who betrayed them later in the same house.

And don't even think about saying If Tamlin hadn't made that deal none of these would have happened bcoz he made the deal after Ianthe was already in the SC. That woman has her own agenda so it doesn't matter if he made the deal or not she still would have carried out her plan.

And also Tamlin's deal was not only to bring Feyre back. 1st of all the deal allowed him to spy on them and 2nd the other part of the deal was that he'll allowed them to cross the wall if they don't attack anyone in SC. Let's just say What if he hasn't made the deal then the war will still happen, they'll still cross the wall, the first court they'll attack will be his but without the deal they'll kill each & every person in SC. I would say it was a thoughtful idea but unfortunately not everything thing was fulfilled.

(putting this here bcoz I commented it somewhere & atleast 10 people said they don't remember & even more people said that this never happened & that I'm a crazy girl making fake scenes in my head)

NEVER TREATED HER LIKE AN EQUAL?

okay fine he didn't give her HL title (the title that didn't even existed) but he was marrying her in front of his people that means he is basically introducing her as the lady of SC ( if not HL) to his whole court . That still gave her lot of power plus respect.

What exactly Rhys did? Married her privately with only one witness ( I'm guessing) that is the priestess. And then he introduced her as a whore in his court.

THE WHOLE COURT NEEDED TO BE RECONSTRUCTED BY A COMPETENT LEADER?

What kind of leader? Like Rhysand? Haah Funny coz that dude can't even rule the other half of his court properly.

#anti acotar #anti inner circle #anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti feyre #anti sjm #pro tamlin

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yannaryartside · 1 day

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A revision of Claire’s “pushing” and who really benefits from it

A list of red flags I have been thinking about.

gif by @felixcarlucci

I was reading this post and reflecting on why it felt, like @brokenwinebox mentioned, that Carmy was always in the passenger seat in the relationship with Claire (physically and metaphorically); their post is amazing, by the way, talking about this concept of "pushing" and how it should be a mutual thing.

I want to go back to the party and the context of Carmy and Claire's past. All of it is enhanced by that interview with Molly we have been discussing.

My biggest question here is:

Why? Why the hell Claire "could tell" that Carmy wanted a relationship with her? They hadn't spoken in more than a decade, for real, wtf kind of signal did she see that he wanted to be with her? Does she think he has been in love with her all this time? Did she get that idea when she supposedly met Mickey? Because if she pursues Carmy, assuming he has feelings for her but only assuming this because of what other people told her, that is kinda fucked up. It all goes back to Fak being the one that tells her that Carmy loved her after all that shit he said while being stuck in the fridge. I swear to God that the more Molly says things favoring ClairexCarmy, the more red flags I see. Did Claire pursue Carmy knowing it would be a sure thing. "Oh yeah I remember you, you had the most obvious crush on me"

There is also the context of both of them growing up in the same spaces, Carmy very shy and Claire a very popular girl. Did she hear how lonely that was, which made her assume he was avoiding her because of a lack of social experience?

In their first phone call, she never let him explain if he was bussy, even after all that talk of her being supportive of the restaurant she said "don't make this weird," Claire was completely dismissing that Carmy was indeed doing something important to him; she never offered to work around both of their schedules, almost like she knew that if she "pushed" enough, she would get what she wanted.

And even that, their first date or hangout is not to a coffee place, maybe a restaurant with Claire actually interested in Carmy's profession and passion, or any other place they could get to actually know each other after, I repeat, a decade of not seeing each other. She brought him to a party.

She knows the Berzattos and how gatering will go on their avail, she knows Michael will set things on fire, she knows he comes from a family of addicts, and she knows carmy had difficulties on social environments (we can assume by the pictures they had around, taht Carmy attended to her birthday party and other stuff surely).

So why the fuck, on their first "date," not only does she insist on going to a party, but she tells him that he "owns her" to go there? Where there is alcohol and other people that he may felt rejected for as a kid? She knows this is a scenario that may cause him anxiety or discomfort, and she insists he must go. Maybe I am projecting a little bit here, since I am autistic, and at some point in all my friendships or relationships, I have to have a conversation about places that, because of my disability, I don't enjoy.

(little note aside: the excuse "my friend needs me" to convince him to go was utterly pathetic. Almost as much as "you own me.")

But what does this mean coming from Claire in the "pushing" thing? Does she feel she can push him to become (kinda by force) the person that will hang out in the same places as she does, assuming that is still what he wants?

She also knows that he probably felt cast aside from social events because of his shyness, and she invites him to provide all the things that may cause her to look like his only anchor in this stressful scenario.

She brought him the soft drink, tried to tell other people what a cool job he has, and told him what to do to comfort and upset a friend of hers. It felt like she was walking him on a tutorial on "how to be normal," and I didn't like that at all. Again, I may be projecting here, but the dynamic was kind of hollow regardless.

It is not like it is bad for Carmen to socialize and whatever. But she removed his agency completely; it feels like manipulation on many levels because she has perceived a lot of his struggle in this area; she also ignored his first reaction to going to the party and flipped her way. Carmy ended up trapped with a lot of immature young adults with whom he definitely has nothing in common. There was no space for actual empathy or connection to him to "come out of his shell." His conversations with Sydney are so natural because of this; there is connection and mutual respect, and he was very out of his shell with her.

The Pushing between Carmy and Syd this next season will likely be in a professional context but also rooted in a (future) agreement on mutual collaboration. But my feelings about this are not only for sydcarmy.

The "pushing" in ClairexCarmy was always in the context of Claire getting what she wanted and Carmy having to force himself to make it happen. There was no discussion, no middle ground, not even a recognition of why certain things have been difficult for you in the past; it is not an actual intention of helping to heal, but an expectation of the other to go your way "because they want you/love you. Claire is sure that only because of her will he want to change, and she will gain his heart by providing the scenario for all these things Carmy desperately wanted as a kid. I am sorry, Storer, if this is the love story you want to sell us, a salvation of all lonely/hurt people, I am very sorry, I hate it with all my heart.

#very anti claire bear here #she has affection for him but dude affection can be very conditional #and affection doesn't mean understanding and doesn't mean compatibility #the bear #sydcarmy #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #the bear fx #carmen berzatto #the bear meta #carmy the bear #carmy x sydney #sydney x carmy

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swiftfootedachilles · 24 hours

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im just gonna be honest gang obviously its gonna be easy for you to say youre in love with a character and theyre an angel when anytime they do something you don't like you brush it off as out of character

#bad writing is still canon unfortunately #the place where i absolutely draw the line is gallavich being verse don't fucking piss me off @shameless writers #unfortunately your fav characters did do and say those bad things..... and to ignore that is too fundamentally misunderstand their character #how can you love a person when you choose to be blind to who they are </3 #this isn't directed toward anybody y'all are just being very dramatic lately and really i think we should remember that tv shows aren't real #i can recognize when someone is caused by bad writing but i still have to accept that it's a real thing that happened #like. do i find shameless entertaining? YES! is it well written? FUCK NO #it's actually fundamentally a bad show in many ways. but that's WHY i enjoy discussing it #it's why my hyperfixation hasn't died down. because theres just SO MUCH to pick apart and interpret and discuss!#it's actually so bad at times i blocked it out of my memory!#but if i believe something isn't canon or *shouldn't be canon* (HUGE difference between those 2 things)#then i should explain why i think that. and i also need to accept that others disagree #but if you say everything you don't like is just ooc bad writing and therefore not real to canon then #....lol what are you even doing here #like. we should be rallying against the writers for being actively racist homophobic transphobic fatphobic ableist etc #yet we're sitting here with our thumbs up our asses fighting about which character fanclub is the most oppressed #WHO CARESSSSS JOHN WELLS DOESN'T CARE ABOUT US IT TRULY ISN'T WORTH WASTING YOUR BREATH OVER #i just want to read about 2 toxic kinky boys kissing idk #let me say this tho! hardcore fiona stans you gotta be the most out of touch people on planet earth!#okay goodnight everypony #wall of text in the tags #a.txt

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misfit0789 · 1 day

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"Can we switch?"

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

Summary: R has a shitty day at work and just wants to be held.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: None

Today could not have gone worse. My boss took the only project I was working on and gave it to some new kid on another team leaving me with nothing. Every message and email I sent was unanswered. I hate my job. Yes I get to work from home, but that is the only plus side as I get to work on tasks around the house while Kyra is at training.

I unlock the front door and throw my bag on the bench to my left before toeing off my shoes and bending down to pet my cats Harley & Ryder.

"Babe I'm home," I call out to my wife.

"Living room babe!" I hear back. I trudge my way through the apartment hearing the TV get louder the closer I get to her. I turn the corner and see her laid out on the couch. Harley and Ryder, who are following behind me, jump on their tower in the corner. I walk over to her picking up her legs, setting them back down on my lap as I sit.

"Bad day?" She asks pausing the TV and sitting up cuddling into my shoulder rubbing my bicep. I sigh again and not leaning my head on hers massaging her legs as I usually do. We sit in silence for a few minutes holding each other. I can feel myself relaxing having her in my arms but I need more…

"Babe?" she hums in response but remains unmoving. "Can we switch?" she pulls back a confused look on her face. I let out a breath and rub the back of my neck before explaining further. "Can you- I mean will you hold me instead?" her features soften. "Don't get me wrong I love holding you like this but I just- I don't know today was rough and I think being in your arms will make me feel 10x better." She smiles at me before scooching back to her earlier position opening her arms wide, a soft smile on her face.

"My love you never have to ask for me to hold you, nor do you need to explain why you want me to. When we got married it was for better or for worse remember? I will never question you or poke fun when you need something from me." I smile and move over laying on top of her, my face tucking into her neck, my arms wrapping around her waist as I snuggle into her further. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and squeezes me. I can feel the rest of the stress leave my body as a wave of sleep overcomes me. "Sleep my love. I'll be here when you wake up. I love you" I mumble back my love for her before sleep overcomes me, but not before feeing her press a kiss to my head.

~~~~

I wake up as I feel one of the cats walking on my back. I stretch slightly before laying back down and closing my eyes. I crack one eye open when I feel more than hear Kyra chuckling.

"Comfy my love?" I nod pressing my head further into her. She presses a kiss to my head as she runs her nails along my back. I release a sigh and squeeze my arms that are stills wrapped around her waist. "What happened today my love? I've never seen ypu this upset after work before. I mean I know your boss is usually an ass but I've never seen you this upset." I pull back a bit so she can hear me speak.

"You basically said it. He's a ass. You know that project I was working on? The one coming up in a few weeks?" I can feel her nod so I continue. "Well theres this new kid that started a couple months ago that he decided was doing better than me so he gave them my project leaving me with nothing to do. I've sent him countless messages and emails asking why he did that and what he wants me to do now but he hasn’t responded to me. I don't want to go back there Ky. I do all of this work and never get the credit I deserve." I fight back the tears threatening to escape. She pulls me closer before gently lifting my head to look her in the eye.

"Baby, you are working in a field that your degree isn't even it. I don't blame you for being so unhappy there. I told the girls I wanted to wait and tell you next week but I think now is as good a time as any. You know how your degree is in sports medicine but you didn't find anything you wanted to pursue in the field?" I look at her confused but nod. "Well turns out there is an opening for a physio on the team. Since everyone knows what you went to school for the girls and Jonas were begging me to ask you to take the position. That is if you're up for it?" She trails off. I look at her in shock before standing and pulling her up into my arms.

"I would love to!! Getting to work with you everyday and not having to be alone here when you travel for away games. There is no doubt I want the position!" I lean down and press a kiss to her lips causing her to gasp in surprise before reciprocating. "There is nowhere else I would rather work." I whisper against her lips. She smiles wrapping her arms around my neck.

"I can't wait to work with you. I'll text Leah to let Jonas know you accept the position." She moves to grab her phone, but I reach out and grab her hand.

"Ky?"

"Yeah?" She looks at me with those gorgeous brown eyes.

"I love you," She smiles and leans up pressing a kiss to my lips.

"I love you too, now let me go text Leah so we can celebrate you leaving that boring ass office job," I chuckle and nod pressing another kiss to her lips before letting her go.

How did I get so lucky so young?

#kyra cooney cross #kyra coney cross x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #matildas

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canirove · 1 day

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Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 1

Summary: Liv and Declan, Declan and Liv, or the story about how a born and raised Tottenham girl falls in love with an Arsenal player... and its consequences.

Author’s note: Best way to celebrate my birthday? By sharing a new story about my beloved 🥳🫶🏻 I started writing this story back in October after making this gif (that's how Declan looks on this first chapter), and I got so inspired that I even managed to write like a script with everything I wanted to happen from beginning to end, which doesn't happen very often or never tbh 😅 I hope you like it as much as I do, and as always, thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter (coming out on Thursday)

Masterlist

"And don't forget about the national team staying with us next week. We need to be at our best, the club wants them to keep coming here and not go back to Carrington or any other training centre" our boss says.

"We always are at our best."

"I know, Alex. But you know what I mean.”

"Yeah, we have to kiss their asses" he mutters.

"Shh" I tell him, hoping our boss hasn't heard him.

"You know it's true" he whispers. "Since we don't have enough with our princesses, now we'll have new ones. And I'm sure they are even more annoying."

"If you dislike football and this job so much, why don't you quit?"

"I don't dislike football, Liv. I dislike football players, it isn't the same” Alex says. “And I don't quit because Tottenham is the team me and my dad support, they happen to pay really well, and I need the money. Besides, what will your dad say? He helped me get this job, I can't disappoint him."

"He'll survive" I chuckle.

"I don't think so. If I'm not here, who will make sure his daughter doesn't end up sleeping with a football player? Especially now that we are gonna have some Arsenal ones in the building. They are the enemy."

"That is so stupid."

"The rivalry between Tottenham and Arsenal isn't stupid, Liv. Please show some respect."

"Whatever" I reply, trying to focus again on what our boss is explaining.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Ready to meet our new princesses?" I ask Alex.

"No."

"Well, too late. They are here" I say when the doors of the cafeteria open and the players from England's national team start walking in, Harry Kane leading them.

"Urgh, not him" Alex groans.

"Shut up and get to work. And don't forget to smile."

"I don't want to smile at him. Or at any of them."

"Hello, guys. Nice to see you again."

"Harry, hi!" I say. "How are the Germans treating you?"

"Good, all good. How are you around here?"

"All good too" I smile. "Same as always?"

"Same as always, Liv."

After Harry some other players like Rashford, Stones or Bellingham also come get their orders, and then…

"Hi, what can I get… you" I say, getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen.

"A latte, please" he smiles.

"A… a la… a…" I mumble.

"Liv… Liv… Olivia!" Alex says, hitting my arm.

"Ouch! What?"

"His order" he says, nodding towards the blue eyed God in front of me. "Didn't you hear him?"

"I… Yes. A latte."

"That's it" he smiles again, the most stupid giggle ever leaving my mouth. What an amazing first impression, Olivia.

"I… Umm…" I mumble again.

"Liv, hey! Long time no see!"

"Madders, we saw each other three days ago" I say, my brain remembering how to work after hearing his voice.

"It feels like an eternity" he smiles. "Have you met Dec yet?"

"Uh?"

"Mr. Declan Rice. The most expensive English football transfer in history" he laughs, wrapping his arm around the blue eyed God's neck and messing up his hair, somehow making it look even better than it already did.

"You… what?"

"You hadn't recognized him?" Madders says. "I know he's had a big glow up, but he hasn't changed that much since the Euros."

"Yeah… I…" I say, feeling my cheeks on fire and the stupidest person in the world. How did I not recognize one of England's best players?

"Anyway, can I get the same as always?"

"He asked first."

"But he plays for Arsenal and I am a Tottenham boy, Liv. What will your dad say?" Madders smirks.

"Her dad?" Declan asks with a confused look.

"He's been working for Tottenham since before we all were born and hates anything Arsenal" Madders explains. "So if he finds out that you are favouring him over me…"

"You are so annoying, James" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Yet you love me" he smiles. "So, can I get my usual?"

"No" I say, turning around and getting Declan's order ready.

"You are so rude, Olivia…"

"Yet you love me" I reply, making Declan laugh. "Your latte."

"Thank you, Liv" he smiles as he takes his cup, our fingers barely touching but being enough to make my face burn once again.

"You're welcome" I giggle. You are so lame, Olivia. Dear God.

"Can I get my coffee now or are you gonna keep smiling at each other like two teenagers in love?" Madders asks.

"What?" Declan and I say at the same time.

"Flirting with an Arsenal player, Liv… What will your dad say?"

"Shup up, James" I say, turning towards the coffee machine to hide that my face now must be the same colour as Declan’s Arsenal shirt.

"You are an idiot, bro" I hear him say before walking away.

"What? Why? What did I say? Liv, hey. What did I say?"

"Just go drink your coffee, James" I sigh.

"But…"

"Go."

"You two are so weird… Made for each other" he winks, making me roll my eyes again.

Once I'm done with all the orders, I can't help but check around the cafeteria looking for Declan. During the Euros he had already caught my eye, but he didn't look as hot as he did right now. He was definitely aging like fine wine.

When I finally spot him, he's sitting next to other Arsenal players, a soft smile on his lips while sipping his coffee. And then… Then he turns to look at where I am. At me. And his smile grows wider, making my knees feel like jelly.

"Best coffee ever" he mouths, remarking each word.

"Thank you" I reply, definitely smiling like an idiot.

"Olivia, Olivia, Olivia…"

"Holy shit, Alex" I jump when I hear him next to me.

"Flirting with an Arsenal player at work? And him among them all? Your dad is gonna be so disappointed…"

"Shut up, Alex" I say, giving him a push that doesn't move him from where he is standing. "I'm gonna go check that we aren't running out of anything, you know how picky the boss is with that."

"Yeah, run away."

"Fuck you" I reply, showing him my middle finger and hoping no one from the national team has seen it. The least thing I need right now is someone complaining to our boss because of my bad behaviour.

As I leave, I can't help but look at Declan one last time, and to my surprise, he also is looking at me. And when our eyes meet…

"Holy shit" I whisper. Can you get turned on by a wink? Because I'm pretty sure that just happened.

#declan rice #declan rice fanfic #declan rice imagine #declan rice x reader #football fanfic #football imagine

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whoishotteranimepolls · 2 days

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Okay, One Piece fandom. Please explain why a clown is winning polls. That I believe he has no right to win. Now, I may be biased. I do not watch One Piece, and I have still yet to forgive Tumblr for the great sin of putting that clown all over my dashboard without my consent when they were advertising the live-action adaptation. But there has to be something about him because you guys seem to love him. However, I may be wrong because I have read that post with all the funny tags, and the buggy section just feels like the roast of Buggy the Clown. So, do you all actually love him, or is he a character that everyone loves to hate? Please explain because I at least understand how some One Piece characters consistently win polls. I have eyes. I see Zoro, Shanks and the goth guy with the long coat and the mustache. He's hot. Even the sexy guy with long white hair, I think his name is Silvers or King, maybe. Personally, I don't believe that Buggy is hot. However, he's beating my favorite blorbos consistently, and I would love to know why.

Defend Your Blurbo #4

Please remember this post is about curiosity and genuine fandom discourse. Be kind with your answers because this is not a debate essay, this is a discussion between fans.

Well, here are some photos of pre and post-time skip Buggy

A gif just in case anyone forgot what Tumblr did to us during the ad campaign, even though it was probably his worst shot in the entire show. So, at least, I totally understand that point

And a link to the post with all the funny tags. If you want to read what they call the Roast of Buggy the Clown. I don't think you were that rough on him. But it's been a while. I may need to read it again

So, One Piece fandom, Defend your Blorbo and have fun with this one because there are probably a lot of people who don't understand the appeal of Buggy

#defend your blurbo #captain buggy #buggy the clown #buggy #one piece #anime #fandom discussion #not a poll

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rocksibblingsau · 3 days

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what are your thoughts on pennywhistle, most specifically in classical branch au? i need them to be best friends

So I'm not sure if you've seen the gameplay of Trolls Remix Rescue...

But Pennywhistle is kinda savage? She forced Barb to apologize for the world tour to her personally (as she's the one who had to rebuild) in exchange for information.

"I trust you, Queen Poppy. If you're looking for that anti-classical suave scoundrel, then I can help! But I have a hard time remembering what happened. Maybe if Barb apologized…"

"Fine. I'm sorry."

"My windway must be failing. What was that again?"

Not only does she sass Barb into getting her own personal apology (as Barb canonically did an apology tour), while she properly addressed Poppy as 'Queen Poppy', she only called Barb her name.

Pennywhistle might look and sound cute, she's pretty feisty. She's not afraid to call people out and honestly is in my list of 'Trolls characters who could say 'fuck' on screen and I wouldn't be surprised'.

Pennywhistle would 100% call BroZone out.

So after checking her wiki again, as it turns out Pennywhistle isn't actually from Symphonyville! I don't know how I missed this but apparently they made her a whole backstory of how she was a wayward traveler adopted by Symphonyville, as Pennywhistle isn't a woodwind and thus wouldn't be in a traditional orchestra. (Although she refers to herself as a woodwind in the movie so... trans icon?)

With that in mind, Classical Branch's story is changing a bit. Pennywhistle stumbled on Branch and the Pop Trolls in her travels. She had plans to look for her perfect home, which she eventually determined would most likely be the Classical Trolls home.

She explained to Branch her story and he listened to her for about two seconds before going 'yeah okay you wanna play music. Well here you go.' and shoved her towards Poppy. She was happy for a bit with Pop Trolls, though they were a bit much for her at times, but she couldn't stop following Branch around like a lost puppy.

After seeing enough of how he was treated, she decided Pop wasn't for her and she went to tell Branch she was leaving. Branch was a bit stunned that anyone else would look at Pop Trolls and go 'yeah they're too much'. Pennywhistle wanted Branch to come with her because she figured he might like it there more, and she eventually got him to go by going "I'm just a poor woodwind, I'll get lost or eaten by a- what are they called?" "Bergen?" "By a bergen! I need someone who's a survival expert!"

With a little manipulation, Pennywhistle and Branch set off in a hot air balloon for Symphonyville.

"Look at this, Branch! In a short 456 pages, you'll know how to fly this thing!"

Pennywhistle sticks to Branch and becomes a bit like if you crossed Mr. Dinkles with Tiny Diamond. She's not a pet but she is a companion. Even when Branch hates music, she's with him and doing her best not to make a single whistle. Branch finds it a bit ironic his only friend is a musical instrument.

When he's grown and writing his own symphonies, there's always a place for Pennywhistle.

#sibblings qna #classical branch au #trolls branch #pennywhistle

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ceescedasticity · 2 days

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Unforsaken, 12c

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

After they stop for the night Glorfindel asks if Alphsîr and Alphlîn want to take the night off from training. They do not. They want to hit things.

Since none of them know how strong a blow from the swan-twins' power would be, Glorfindel isn't comfortable having them aim at anyone, and it's hard to strike so abstractly at nothing. He rigs up a target of a polearm stuck into the ground with a bucket on top; goal is to knock the bucket off the polearm.

(Inert objects with no real spirit of their own are not ideal targets for this kind of attack, but Glorfindel is guessing with their level of strength they should be able to manage it.)

There are a few false starts, but when Alphsîr manages to loose an actual strike the polearm gets ripped out of the ground and knocked flat in one blow, dirt flying. The polearm is also now slightly bent.

That's supposed to be a dragon-grade polearm.

Glorfindel sets up the same target again, but says they can't get another polearm for a target if this one gets too badly damaged.

(They still haven't seen any sign of dragons but wrecking all their dragon-grade polearms would surely summon some.)

(Celeborn does not, in fact, drink the rest of Legolas's Mirkwood moonshine. Celeborn stares blankly up at the stars missing Galadriel until Elladan and Elrohir bring the palantír over and make him talk to Arwen.)

*****

Turgon's reprieve is over the next day.

There is no reprieve for Celeborn, as he still insists on riding beside the wagon listening to all of it, even though Turgon tells him again he doesn't need to.

Did she talk about them?

"Not if she could avoid it I'm sure. She would have wanted to protect you."

But did she talk about them in the past, about back before she died?

"Not to me. We only ever discussed the kin we had in common, and very seldom the past. Mostly we avoided talking about our pasts at all. All orcs-who-know, not just me and L—Nimloth."

She didn't forget them, did she?

"No, no, everyone avoided— She alluded to you, sometimes — to what Celegorm's servants did to you."

What did she think about working with sons of Fëanor?

"She hated it but there weren't enough of us that we could afford to do anything about our grudges. —Except she did kick Reckless in the crotch hard enough to actually rupture something once, the first time they met when she remembered all the way."

Why do some orcs remember? How?

"There are a lot of different ways it happens. Any orc can get reminded, it's also — not falling apart, after you get reminded. I don't know why some people can handle it and some can't, and I don't know what things pushed Nimloth into remembering. It wasn't every lifetime. —That's not a bad thing. It's still awful, if you don't remember, but it's not — you don't fully understand how awful it is. Or feel as bad about how awful you are."

But if you remember can't you… be less awful?

"Well, when the Shadow was light we could just go to ground, but other orcs could do that too… You need to understand that when the Shadow is — was strong then an orc is an orc, and all of us did bad things. If we were lucky we could avoid doing bad things directly to people important to us, but all of us hurt innocents and served the Shadow's purpose. And if you were unlucky— If there was any doubt the Dark Lord could bend any of us to his will if he took the trouble, then after— There wasn't any doubt. We were weapons or we were dead. And it's hard to stay dead."

What's it like in the Crucible of Souls?

"…Hot. Close. Confusing. Bad. I'm not sure how to explain it better, just… it's very bad. It hurts. Everything always hurts, but the Crucible hurts worse."

Did she want us to come help her?

"Absolutely not, no. There's— Glorfindel recognized me once some centuries ago. He was a great warrior when I was alive and I could tell he'd gotten better, but I never once wanted him to come after me. He couldn't have done anything to help me, not truly. It would only have put both of us in danger. It might have put him in danger from me, if the Dark Lord noticed. He made an orc-who-knows torture his own son to death once, out of spite. None of us wanted our living family coming near us. She wanted you to stay away."

What happened to her, why isn't she alive now?

"I don't know what exactly happened to her, or to most of the other orcs-who-know. There were some very great battles, and landslides and other disasters — it's more surprising that we're alive than that they're dead."

…

Turgon sighs, and looks over at Celeborn for the first time in a while. "This is the thing I was hoping you wouldn't have to know. And I really don't know very much."

"Yes…?" Alphsîr prompts.

"She believed Saruman and went to Isengard. She's probably the same Leafblight that Zuste mentioned."

Celeborn goes gray.

Alphlîn asks, "What's Isengard?"

Oh, hell.

Alphlîn asks, "Are you all right, Uncle Celeborn?"

Celeborn's eyes are open, but he is starting to list sideways.

*****

Glorfindel and Elladan come take charge of Celeborn.

Elrohir herds the swan-twins up to Zena's wagon and asks her to give them a brief introduction to what was going on in Isengard. He figures they have a complete lack of relevant context that might make Zena's version appropriate.

After overhearing enough to understand what's happened, Legolas goes back and volunteers the rest of the Mirkwood moonshine. Glorfindel says to hold it in reserve but he's starting with miruvor.

#orc bank #orc bank unforsaken

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semyazzayee · 2 days

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Something I haven't seen anyone discuss in the critical tags is uhm (English is not my first language btw If there are errors when I'm expressing my idea)

Do we have considered that maybe Viv was not the only one who created the idea of the redemption to be the plot of his series and, since it was a very collaborative project at the beginning with Ashley and the rest of the hazbin-cast in the pilot era, that's why the current series abandoned the old interesting topics like redemption and what defines a good person to a more generic heaven vs hell conflict, because Viv alone don't know how to handle it without that old team of people that she no longer has in her project?

Seriously, that's what comes to my mind every time I remember everything that was promised to be explored in the pilot era and that doesn't seem like it's going to be explained in the series now or taken seriously and with the necessary centralism in the plot now.

Damn, even the extermination is no longer due to overpopulation and apart from Sir Pentius (best character :3) there are no "filler" episodes showing guests in the hotel who leave or stay for their reasons and the hotel is not relevant as it should except the 2 rehabilitation exercises that Charlie did in 2 episodes of the 8 in the first season, for the rest the characters are in their own thing tbh and the hotel is where they live as rommies

I miss the old hazbin cast. For now this is just an intrusive thought of mine from a while ago that I wanted to share, I have no way to prove it other than my memories of seeing how interactive the old team was with each other and how they had fun with the characters bc they were familiar with them and that's why now the characters and project feel THAT different with the bigger and new team Viv has :/

(like the guy who make comics with SA ValDust and influenced the new Angel Dust to suffer SA)

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel criticism #vivziepop critical #vivziepop critique #spindlehorse critique #spindlehorse critical

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elderberries-and-honey · 13 hours

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Today, was a very important day. Today, was the day that all of Lawrence's preparation and planning would finally be put to the test. Today, he was meeting with Mr. O'Doyle; a wealthy investor who was known for his hand in most of the profitable businesses around Windenburg.

As Lawrence stood in front of the mirror, he attempted to fix himself up to the best his ability; he hoped his hair that often refused to remain tidy would miraculously stay put, and that all of his long hours practicing his speech had somehow spun it into perfection.

He was absolutely enthuzimuzzy, feelings of both excitement and anxiety churning in his blood. 'Deep breaths,' he reminded himself over again, his chest expanding wide on the inhale, 'this will work,' he told himself, exhaling his worries for only a moment.

"Atticus, please, just one bite for Mummy." Winifred's voice said from within the dining room, breaking his concentration; and just like that, his moment was up.

All morning long, Winifred had been battling her infant son and his refusal to eat a single bite of breakfast.

"My darling, I thought we talked about you letting Dorris do more of the feeding." He noted dryly as he fastened the shiny brass buttons on his sleeve.

His wife didn't even bother to look up from her sulking, instead she simply stared straight ahead at the little one who was doing everything in his power to avoid a mouthful of lumpy porridge.

"When I want your advice on how to feed my son, Lawrence, I'll ask." She replied bitterly.

He sighed, now crossing his arms. For several days, her tone had such bite to it; icicles seemed to drip from every word, piercing his skin each time she opened her mouth. He had chalked it up to exhaustion over their youngest growing in his first few teeth, but that didn't mean it wasn't painful all the same.

He watched her rise from the table, and take baby Atticus into her arms, lightly bouncing him up and down. After a few moments, she softened her jaw and apologised as she had done many times over the last few days.

She went on to explain that Atticus was running a small fever, and had not eaten anything solid for two days. As she spoke, he listened calmly and felt his defensiveness already falling away, understanding what she was trying to say.

She was thinking of their first and only daughter, Florence, whose skin had burned hot to the touch and refused to take to her mother's breast, ultimately resulting in her untimely death. It did not take a genius to know that if he himself was being plagued by images of their daughter's face, her burning red cheeks and puffy eyes from incessant crying, his wife was remembering the same.

He hesitated for a split second before speaking, weighing the impact her choice could have if she agreed, before telling her, "I don't have to go. I can stay here with you if you need me to, my love."

Relief washed over him as she shook her head in refusal, noticing how stiff his shoulders were before relaxing them a bit.

"I'll be home before you know it," he reminded her, wrapping his arms around both her and Atticus, "until then, just try to relax. Let Dorris help you."

After he let go of their embrace, he sighed and turned on his heel to head towards the front door and out into town, while Winifred hummed soft lullabies under her breath behind him.

next / previous / first

#bottle episode baudelaire legacy edition #also reminder to remember there is such a thing as the unreliable narrator #1893 #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #decades challenge #ts4 legacy #ts4 storystelling #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 storystelling #the baudelaire legacy #1890 #lawrence baudelaire #winifred baudelaire #atticus baudelaire

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