#i love weetabix

[marzistarz2002]

My life's escapade with Weetabix

So, all my life I have always loved Weetabix, and that's been my thing. Like how you have a childhood nickname that only your family members call you on very special occasion... that's me and Weetabix... its special. It's always been in my house, I've always eaten it, and importantly, I can remember all of it. When I ate it, how I ate it, why I ate it, where I ate it. So I decided to try documenting some core memories about my life when Weetabix has been in it.

This blog post will contain 7 main sections describing some of the memories I have with Weetabix, accompanied with a themed ranking with absolutely no explanation to my reasonings.

The First Time

Now, I don't actually remember the first ever time in my life where I ate Weetabix because I was probably a baby... but I do have a very vague early memory so I shall call that the first time. It was night time, supper time even. The diamond multicolour table cloth was covering the kitchen table, the smell of the plastic filing the air around me. A bowl of Weetabix was placed in front of me. Cold milk, raisins, and one Weetabix, waiting to be tiredly eaten. That little snippet of my childhood can't be dated, or refined in any way. All I know was that bowl of cereal was the nicest thing I'd eaten all day and I went to bed with a full stomach, happy.

Minatare? and chocolaty!?

This particular time holds a very special place in my heart... the first time I had mini chocolate Weetabix. I can't remember exactly where but I was in a campsite with my family and their friends. Their tent was green, our tent was blue. Us kids had just gotten into the rec. centre and messed about on the pool tables the night before. As an experience camper I knew the best way to eat cereal in the morning... curled up on one of our blue camping chairs right in front of the door... and if they were taken, on the floor inside the tent with the bowl on top of my knees. The bowl was a rich dark blue colour the cereal was beige with tiny bits of chocolate floating in the milk, it rested perfectly in my lap as I sat on the chair. Excited, I took my first bite when I heard the worst kind of sound that can come from any Weetabix... a crunch. How rude they are for making such a heavenly cereal so crunchy! But I kept going, intrigued by the chocolate and the size, as I went on crunching away, my prayers had been answered as the milk started disappearing and the Weetabix turned into mush... finally the ideal texture but 10 times better as there was chocolate... and I love chocolate. That experience, I'd say, was one of the most adventurous times I've eaten Weetabix.

The best kind

Plain Weetabix (includes branded and Tesco's own brand)

Banana flavoured Weetabix

Oatabix

Fruit and nut Weetabix mini's

Chocolate Weetabix mini's

Weetabix on the Go

The worst time

In recent years I have become someone who drinks oat milk, but in my youth I was strictly a green or at a stretch, a blue milk drinker. And sometimes I would steal my mums soya milk for a change up or if there wasn't any milk left. Now for this memory, milk is obviously the main topic. I have, at the time of this memory, drank only cow's milk and soya milk with my favourite cereal. However, one night before Harp lessons, I going to eat some Weetabix. I opened the fridge to acquire the milk... none. I call my parents to tell them there isn't any milk left... asking for my mum's soya milk was at the tip of my tongue. All of a sudden I am being told to eat this bowl Weetabix drowned in almond milk. never have I ever had almond milk, I hated the idea of drinking that, I hated almonds. But I was hungry, and that was the only solution my parents had. I fought it, I complained, I cried the entire time. From the second the first spoon full touched my lips, up until I couldn't stand it anymore. I was being forced, in the eyes of pubescent me, to eat this vile excuse for milk... this liquid that tainted the pure loveliness of Weetabix. Her bland flavour absorbed this liquid, quickly turning into an offensive mush in my bowl. The anger, the sadness, the frustration! All I wanted was to feel joy, to feel the heavenly, milky sludge that is a bowl of Weetabix. But that didn't happen and I had to live with myself for making the decision to ask for help, for not just taking the soya milk. I had to live with the fact that I had just eaten the worst bowl of Weetabix ever.

Ranking milks

Manx Green cow's milk

Oat milk

Cow's milk

Soya milk

Three at once?

As you might have gathered by now, I like my Weetabix a certain way. Throughout this collection of memories, I haven't mentioned the quantity of Weetabix that is desired. This is simply for the sole reason of this memory. All my life I was orderly, I followed the rules, I kept to the routine, I only ever ate one or two pillows at a time. One if I wasn't particularly hungry, or I was a small child, and two because it was the perfect amount to have after school or just before bed. Anyway, this story starts in on a little island called The Isle of Man, situated in the Irish sea, between my home country of Ireland and the countries of Great Britain. In a little house on the southern end of the island I was coming down the stairs from my cousins room, into her kitchen. We had just had a sleepover after the most diabolical day of my life. (I won't get into it as it adds absolutely nothing to the context of this blog) My aunt was there preparing breakfast, I get handed a very deep plastic bowl and to my surprise there was not one, not two, but three Weetabix pillows inside. I had never seen such a sight. Three...!? Three requires triple the milk, and so I filled that big bowl with the beautiful Manx milk. Sitting at the dining room table, the cold brown leather on my legs matched the cold milk in that transparent bowl. I crush the pillows to make my desired texture, I lift my spoon thats filled with the comfort I will forever seek, and I ate three Weetabix for the first time in my life.

The best bowls

Regular bowl that is suitably deep

A mug

That one fairy princess bowl in my Grandparents

Small blue camping bowl

Shallow soup bowl

… Liquid

Mornings. The bane of my existence throughout my school career. My bus picked me up at the bus stop at 8:15 every morning during secondary school. The first to arrive, and the last to leave I spent a significant amount of time waiting at school because of that bus. But mornings were always far worse that afternoons. I would set my alarm for a reasonable time but did I get up? of course not! I went back to sleep. I almost always jumped out of bed around 7:45 realising that I was going to be late, hurried to get dressed, and ran out the door, up to the bus stop. Not once during the mornings did I have time to eat... breaktime was my breakfast. That all changed one evening as I was helping my mum with the food shop. Turning the into the next isle, a familiar logo caught my eye, a logo I had seen often in my life. The words 'Weetabix' sprawled down a curved blue bottle, 'on the go' just below. All of a sudden it clicked, the best problem solving I have ever done. I don't have to skip breakfast just because I have horrible time management skills (undiagnosed and unknown adhd) . I proposed this idea to my mother, who wholeheartedly agreed. The next morning, I carried on with my unorganised routine, but before I left the door, I grabbed that special blue bottle. After running to my stop, I had some time to spare so I cracked open the bottle and started to drink. It was a strange texture... something I'd definitely have to get used to. But as I sat there, waiting for my bus, looking over the fields, down to the sea. The cows grazing behind me. I had, for the first time in ages, breakfast.

Stale...

Fun fact, Weetabix can go out of date. I learned that the hard way. This was another interesting holiday in the IOM, and bless my grandparents they are so sweet, but they kinda don't know how to chuck out food. I was visiting with my mum and sister during my holidays and stayed in my grandparents spare room. Which meant that breakfast was out of my control. It was the first morning my grandad put out some Weetabix because he knows how much I love it. Overjoyed, I made myself a bowl. Two pillows drowned in milk. But this was no ordinary bowl... this Weetabix had been open for so long that the milk took so long to absorb. It tasted like carboard, with the texture of cardboard... I didn't want to disappoint so I continued chewing away. Weetabix shouldn't be chewy. I couldn't bring myself o look at the date on the box. I had committed to the decision to finish the bowl. Never again did I have that Weetabix during that trip, toast and juice that was slightly the wrong colour got me through. What a learning experience that holiday was... and what I took away from that ordeal was to not eat out of date spaghetti hoops or I will throw up days later in front of an aeroplane.

My ideal Weetabix

This entire ting has led up to this moment. The moment where I reveal the most perfect way to eat Weetabix! I return to this way time and time again, and Weetabix is never as good when it isn't ate this way. So, the perfect bowl of Weetabix consists of: 2 Weetabix pillows in a decently sized bowl, oat milk, and raisins (or lele's as I call them). It's as simple as that.

Ranking different toppings

Raisins/saltanas

Bananas and honey

Grapes and apple bits

Nutella

Sugar

<3

#cereal #milk #weetabix #memorable #lifechanging #slay girlboss #childhood #culture #addictive #bland #boring food #yum #yummy yummy #i love weetabix #food #raisins #i think about weetabix almost everyday its an obsession #i havent eaten weetabix in so long #please get me some weetabix #isle of man #ireland #great britain #family #how come no one questioned this obsession? #like there was obviously something going on with me #queer

[arthursfuckinghat]

The sun is your halo, for it is always above you.

Arthur and Weetabix 𑁦𐂂𑁦 Scarlett Meadows

#It's a line from a poem I wrote I love poetry fun fact #oh the poems I could write about arthur but I shall not #<- fears the cringe #but I also just love taking pictures of arthur and the sun #he's perfect #I'm like a sponge for all kinds of imagery I soak that shit up it keeps me going #I'm a real yapper #but alas #I have my silly little blog to yap on #and lovely followers <3 #mwah #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #mick squeaks #arthur morgan #weetabix my horse #red dead redemption community #liveblogging

[boyjoan]

everything in life is cyclical for example im eating the breakfast i loved as a teenager again

#weetabix crispy minis with chocolate. and an apple. btw. sooooo good so tasty #ive moved my daily muffin to lunchtime and i have half with smoked salmon and half with set honey both topped with flakey salt #i love you food :') #partridge family breakfast!!

[cutetinyartist]

Lads help I can't eat Weetabix without thinking of this advert-

#g/t #giant/tiny #we have a huge box of it in the pantry and I cannot stop eating it- #I love it with honey + a lil bit of chocolate! #(and milk ofc- my mom said my Grandad used to eat it dry with jam and oml aghhsjdfk-) #anyway tho this ad is so silly I love it #cutetinyartist #okay I'll stop rambling about Weetabix now- #Youtube

[luveline]

i see ur thinking abt the marauders and i was just thinking abt them too!! i just saw a thread on twt abt how much men hate their girlfriends but wont break up with them (😖😖) and couldn't stop thinking abt how james would be so BAFFLED reading it!! would you be able to write something for that? its perfectly fine if not!! ily <33

I luv you! I'm not sure what thread you mean but I made a guess, sorry if it's not right ♡ fem, 1k

modern au. cw mention of toxic/hurtful relationships

"What is that?" James asks, pushing the sheets back as he climbs in beside you. His bowl of cereal is heaping, upwards of ten weetabix doused in milk, sugar, raspberries, blueberries, and a generous squeeze of honey.

"What?" you ask, showing him your phone screen. 

James leans over you to scroll back up. "Men who hate their girlfriends?" 

"Oh, it's like, people posting their screenshots, I think." You click on the tweet he'd been pointing at and show him the replies underneath. "It's just boys who act like they don't love their partners but won't break up with them either, there's loads on there." 

"What?" he asks, holding his bowl in one hand. "Can I?" You give him your phone happily, watching as he reads through some of the examples, screenshots from different websites and forums. "'Recently had to tell a friend's bird that he was calling her all sorts of names. I'm loyal to my friends, but you could hear the hatred in his voice sometimes. She left him two days later and he was surprised, for some reason.'"

James' eyebrows pinch. He continues, "'Am I in the wrong for asking my husband to stay awake with me during my early morning labour? He keeps bringing it up.'" James shows you your phone screen. "Like, he's mad she didn't let him sleep through the birth of their child?" 

"You know, there was a video on there a few weeks ago where a girl had put together a compilation of her boyfriend play fighting with her, and each video got nastier and nastier." You reach for the spoon to his bowl to start chopping up the weetabix the way he likes. "He was kicking her legs from under her and she was laughing it off. Once or twice, I'd think it was funny, but he wasn't even laughing himself." 

"Why the fuck?" James asks. 

"I don't know. Can I have a raspberry?" 

"They're in there for you to steal…" James watches you chew. You try not to pay too much attention to his staring, plopping your phone down in the sheets between your legs. "Why are these boys getting with women they don't like?" 

"I don't know, Jamie," you tell him honestly, wading through his bowl for another raspberry. "I think they get comfortable." 

He accepts the spoon back from you and you slouch down the fabric headboard together. James eats his weetabix slowly, the TV sending a light blue light into your otherwise dark room. "It's a bit late for supper," you murmur. "Were you hungry?" 

James puts his bowl on the nightstand. Coils of curls brush your forehead as he leans down, one big hand on the back of your neck and the other stretched across the shoulder furthest away from him, holding you in place as he kisses the top of your head. It's a weighty kiss, full of love. "I love you. Don't ever let anyone treat you like those boys on your phone, yeah?" 

You hum lightly. "That's what boys are like." 

"I know. I'm just begging you not to let people do that to you." He rubs your shoulder roughly, a massaging that hurts in the good way. "You know, if you can. I get that it's not their choice." 

"Yeah. I think people want so badly to be loved that they'll take the pretend kind. I was lucky to find you before you found someone else. You always make me happy." 

"This is what I mean," he whines, resting his cheek on your forehead. You sigh happily at his touch, more than ready for a night of his arms around you, a heavy leg thrown over your hips to lock you in. "You think you're lucky because of those dickheads." 

"No, it doesn't have anything to do with them. Just you." 

James sits up to turn your face to his. "Love you," he says, kissing you quickly. 

"Love you too. Don't stress about the phone, babe, you're not the audience they're looking for." 

James hears your teasing tone toward the end, poking your side. "What's that for?" 

"Nothing, just, you tried to follow me into the bathroom last night even when I told you I wasn't showering. If you're that eager to sit with me while I pee, I doubt you'll be the kind of guy who ends up on that forum." 

"It wasn't about the peeing, stop trying to shame me," he grumbles, again pulling you in for a hug, "it was separation anxiety. I miss you."

"I get why these women end up like that, though," you say quietly. "I get why they stay. If you started shoving me for a laugh or whatever, I'd think about this, because you love me. Does that make sense? I'm so happy right now that I wouldn't want to believe that you didn't love me anymore." 

"I know. It's fucking sad. I can't believe they do shit like that, it's pure selfishness." James settles back in his pillow. "I wouldn't ever do that shit to you. I know everyone says that, but I have to say it anyway." 

"I know, Jamie. Don't worry. I'm not worried about it, only talking." 

You offer him your hand. James takes it, rubs the back of it, brings it to his lips for a barely felt kiss. "Is there anything happy on that app?" he asks. 

"Uh, I saw a video of a baby girl who only stops crying when her cat comes to check on her. Or a pregnancy reveal where the boyfriend starts crying and begging her to get married." 

James rests his face on your shoulder, snuffling into your skin contentedly, "Ah, so my future. Put it on, angel." 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

[kissmefriendly]

In other news —

What the fuck, England?!

What the fuck is this??? Chocolate orange cereal?? That tastes like cardboard?! But the milk is actually the best bit? Who did this?? And to what nefarious ends?? It has ZERO taste! But somehow I’ve been duped into buying a box whenever I run out?! Explain yourselves!

#I want it on record that I LOVE chocolate oranges #they’re usually pricey tho and my local Spar doesn’t stock them #so it’s not the chocolate/orange combo #it’s the fact that it’s CEREAL. with the BEST flavouring combo ever. that tastes like PAPER. #?? #but then the milk is fucking delicious?? how do they do that?? #I bought it on a whim at Sainsbury’s because they were out of Weetabix (which actually DOES taste delicious?) #that was three months ago. #THREE MONTHS! and I’m STILL eating this shit?? #tbf wnglish cereal brands are freakishly filling #so I don’t actually get hungry until the next day which may be something I need to see my gp about #it’s just WEIRD #but it WORKS #it’s only worth it for the milk #also forget the Horlicks in the background. when my mum came to visit she bought it as an inside joke. #I’ll give you a hint: she can’t stop saying ‘I’m a Horlicks man myself’ whenever she sees an attractive man #but that’s it’s own horror story. #English people WHY

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Assorted Batkid Headcanons

During the middle days of Damian being Dick’s Robin, he was still figuring out how to show affection in a nonviolent way, so he just kept getting Dick fish. His logic was ‘Grayson has issues taking care of himself, so I will get him a pet that even he will find easy to care for’.

As a result Dick has an entire tank of various fish, all named Jim after Jim Gordon.

Dick finds this hilarious. Babs finds this hilarious. She’ll casually mention something ‘Jim’ did in conversation with her dad and watch as he bluescreens.

Tim has the pallet of a five year old. All he likes are exceedingly sugary sweet foods everyone else wants to puke while eating.

As a result, all he drinks are those stupidly sugary energy drinks that leave you seeing god after a few minutes. Is this unhealthy? No, it’s a liquid, therefor water, therefor good - Tim Drake.

Duke has purposefully broken his wrist to see if he would light up like a glowstick before. It didn’t work.

Cass shows her affection through objects, so a Batkid will often walk into their residence to find something like a metal bottle cap or a feather neatly placed on their table, without any security triggered or any other indication anyone was ever here. They all know to treasure these, no matter what they are.

Jason, given he’s built like a tank, will often hold things out of reach from people just to Be An Asshole. He loves it.

Damian used the same method of affection on Steph when she was his Batgirl, but had a bit more faith in her ability to not let something die, so he kept getting her small rodents, like hamsters and rats. She named them all after characters from Supernatural.

Stephanie had a huge Supernatural phase when she was 13 and never really grew out of it. She’s tried out summoning rituals from the show before.

Every single Batkid had a Warriors phase. Every. Single. One.

Dick was SO FUCKING HAPPY when Duke showed up because he finally had a brother who would happily give him a hug without having a panic attack due to TouchFuckery.

Steph has referred to the Batfam as “Furry Touchfucked McNuggets” before. No one questions it because she’s right.

Babs has designated snacks for every occasion. Program Taking Too Long To Load is Cheetos. Bruce Being a Bitchass On the Comms is popcorn. Done With This Bullshit For Good, I Swear is Twix.

Tim’s Notes app on this phone is entirely filled with sleep deprived 4am rants about why Star Trek is the superior franchise. He’s very passionate about it.

One time Bart was bored so decided to raid the pantry and he found Damian crouched on one of the top shelves, hissing like a cat and clutching a box of Weetabix. He took a picture and now it’s the YJ discord group icon.

Not exactly Batfam but the YJ Core Four + Cissie have a discord group chat and Tim’s the mod.

Damian loves Weetabix. Idk if anyone else knows what that is but that shit was my fucking childhood so he loves it.

Duke has tried and is currently trying to unionize all the kid sidekicks. They’re getting there.

Jason’s favorite authors are Mary Shelley and Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice is his comfort book that he often reads after patrolling as way to wind down. He fucking hates Edgar Allan Poe with a passion for reasons he refuses to explain.

Cass will sometimes teach some dance moves to little kids while on patrol. Sure, she knows it’s not stopping violence, but when she sees another little girl with scars on her palms and wary eyes light up as she twirls in the air and laugh as she leaps, she thinks it’s worth it. More than worth it.

Jason’s found her doing this sometimes. Neither of them say anything.

The Batkids all love Jon. Yeah, move over Damian, don’t keep him all to yourself. They may have their own supers/alien besties, but Jon is just adorable, and they all want to smoosh the cheeks of a kid who won’t attempt to stab them for it. Look, he’s so cute. The day anyone bullies Jon beware, because the entirety of Gotham’s vigilante force will be there to wreak havoc upon you.

#batfamily #batfam #dc #dc comics #dick grayson #barbara gordon #tim drake #jason todd #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #damian wayne #yj #jon kent #headcanons #weetabix #glowsticks #idek man #here we are ig #random bullshit #headcanon #batfam headcanons

[bella-rose29]

April Fool's! ~ a DTH special

here's the first of (I'm sure) many Deck the Halls specials! in honour of April Fool's Day I figured it was the perfect occasion to write a lil something about our Schmoopies (who love to prank each other)

I did take a teeny bit of inspiration from @tangledinlove's heart eyes series (which if you haven't read then go now! also I recommend everything on love's master list) and wrote this special through the eyes of Holly, George, and Lucy!

edit: I should add in now that you probably could read this as a standalone? there are some references in there that might be teeny spoilers but tbh DTH is pretty formulaic so you could figure out the plot just from the summary 😂

Warnings: one or two swear words, and I think that's it? maybe a spoiler in the form of Holly being there?

Word count: 1.7k

anthony lockwood master list

enjoy the pictures of lockwood and Cameron being silly boys!

“Where is he?”

Holly looked up from where she sat at the kitchen table writing a shopping list to study the girl who stood in the doorway. Y/n had her hands on her hips and a frown on her face, and Holly felt sorry for whoever she was looking for. No doubt it was Lockwood, having forgotten an important anniversary or something, who was provoking the glare that had settled over Y/n’s features. 

“Lockwood?” Holly asked, returning her attention to the shopping list. She tapped the pencil against her temple while trying to think of what she was missing. 

“Yep. Have you seen him? I’ve got a bone to pick with him, the little shit.”

Holly snorted, then a thought popped into her head. She wrote down ‘tomatoes’ in neat print with her pen. “What’s he done this time?”

The other girl huffed and moved further into the kitchen, pulling open cupboards with a little too much force. “He’s pranked me! Hid all the toothbrushes in the house and now I can’t brush my teeth!”

“I- he did what?” That was such a random thing to do, and yet it was very perfectly Lockwood. “Why would he prank you?” Holly’s colleague stopped in her tracks, arms spread open with the cupboard handles in each hand, and slowly turned around. Instead of the initial frustration that had been on her face there was now confusion. 

“You… you do know what day it is… right?” Holly shook her head, brows creasing. “It’s April Fool’s Day? First of the month?” Realisation dawned, and she rushed to stifle her laugh when Y/n started glaring again. “Why is that funny? Lockwood hid all the toothbrushes, Holly! How do I brush my teeth now?! I had Weetabix this morning and my mouth feels all gross,” she complained. 

“I think he went out for a walk or something,” Holly answered, finishing up her list. “That was a while ago, though, so he should be back in a minute.” No sooner than she’d stopped talking the sound of the front door opening made both girls look in the direction of the hall. Shuffling noises followed while the person moved around, then footsteps grew louder and the kitchen door was pushed open to reveal the head of the company. 

Anthony Lockwood was many things: a great boss, slightly suicidal at times (although the number of occasions that he threw himself directly into danger had decreased significantly after the Christmas holidays), an excellent swordsman, and a loving boyfriend to Y/n.

But as Holly watched Y/n she knew that he was also in a lot of danger. 

“Ah. Hello, Darling. Holly.” He was wary, gaze flicking between the two girls as he stayed holding on to the door handle. Y/n’s eyes narrowed, and Lockwood’s attention was suddenly solely on his girlfriend. His smile faltered slightly, and there was a split second where both he and Y/n sort of… hovered, the tension in the room palpable. 

Then the chaos started. 

Lockwood turned and fled the room, footsteps heavy on the stairs, and Y/n was hot on his heels, yelling as she thundered after him. Holly could hear their laughter echoing through the house, and she let out a chuckle of her own as she stood up and folded the shopping list, putting it in her pocket. 

Her boss was going to suffer dearly for the rest of the morning for withholding the toothbrushes, but he wouldn’t be physically harmed. 

A thump sounded on one of the upper floors, something that sounded worryingly like a body hitting the ground, and pleads of mercy followed immediately while mixed in with laughter. 

She was tickling him, then. Going for the feet if she wanted maximum effect or sitting on him and going for his sides if she was smart and didn’t want him wriggling away. 

Holly picked up a bag and her keys in the hallway, and made for Arif’s. Hopefully Lockwood would no longer be a hostage by the time she got back. 

~~~

George Karim was normally quite forgiving when it came to Y/n, but printing out tens of pictures of Penelope Fittes was a step too far for him. 

“Why do you even want to do this anyway? I thought after the whole… ‘fake-dating-turned-real-dating’ thing over Christmas you weren’t fighting anymore.” He was spread in front of the printer in his room, blocking his friend from accessing it. Since getting back from her family’s house in the middle of nowhere a few months ago, after snowstorms stretched out their Christmas, Lockwood and Y/n had been annoyingly cute and coupley.

“He hid all the toothbrushes, George. He’s having a nap right now because I tickled him into exhaustion, so I’ve not got much time before-” she broke off when George tackled her to prevent her from using the printer. 

“Okay… well why does that mean you’re printing loads of pictures of Penelope Fittes? The head of the company we hate?”

“… Because I’m going to cut them out and replace all the photos in the house with them.” The pair of them stopped squirming and George pushed his glasses back up his nose to stare in shock and confusion at her. 

“You… what?” 

“It’s April Fool’s. I’ve got like… two hours left before midday. Please, Georgie. I have to get revenge.” He sighed, then released his grip on her. 

“Fine. But when he gets annoyed, you are not linking this to me. I’m not getting dragged into all of this.”

The two of them spent the next fifteen minutes printing photos and cutting them out, and when it sounded like Lockwood was stirring, Y/n sent George to keep him distracted. He penned his boss in the library where he’d fallen asleep earlier, spewing facts about the next case they were going to go on to keep Lockwood there while Y/n snuck around the house. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been waffling on about murder victims and Type 2s, but when Lockwood’s girlfriend tentatively peeked around the door he had to stop himself from visibly sighing in relief. 

“You alright, Schmoopie?” Where the nickname had come from, George had no idea, but Y/n was the only one who used it and specifically only when she wanted to piss off Lockwood. Lockwood himself knew this too, and George could immediately see the suspicion creep in. 

“… yeah. Are you?”

“Hm? Oh, yep!” Her grin was wide, and looked rather like a shark, and George wondered why Lockwood was staring all heart-eyed at her despite being suspicious. “Just been… finding toothbrushes.” It was Lockwood’s turn to smile now, boyish delight making him perk up. 

“Get any?”

“Eventually. Took me a bloody long time though,” she mumbled the last part, but the boys still heard. George snickered. Lockwood’s smile grew. “Anyway… tea?”

“Alright then,” Lockwood replied, stretching out a hand and moving over to the doorway. Y/n took it, planting a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek before pulling him out the room. 

She sent a wink over her shoulder at George as they turned the corner and disappeared. 

~~~

So far, the pranks were one each. 

Lucy had noticed Y/n putting photos of Penelope Fittes in all the picture frames around 35 Portland Row, and when her friend had explained why, she had gladly joined in. Any opportunity to mess with Lockwood was an opportunity that Lucy took. 

Around half an hour after Lockwood had reappeared from the library, he still hadn’t noticed that all of the photos had been replaced. He’d spotted one or two maybe, but that was it. Some were more sneaky than others, and Lucy knew that Lockwood would be finding Penelope Fittes photos for weeks after today. 

Now she was sat in the living room with George, Holly, and Y/n, sketching in her pad. There was near silence in the room, the clock ticking and what sounded like suppressed snorts of laughter outside the door the only noises. Lucy frowned, glancing at the door every few seconds. After another minute or so of stifled laughter Lockwood appeared, mouth pinched to hide the smile on his face as he walked in and sat on the arm of his normal armchair where Y/n was sat. 

“…Lockwood?” Lucy asked. “Why are you wearing a hat? You’re… indoors?”

“Oh! Just felt like it! Thought it would be nice to wear something a little more fun. For morale, you know?”

Y/n looked up then, and gaped at the top hat perched on her boyfriend’s head. “You’re ridiculous, Anthony.”

“Yep. We’ve had this conversation before, Darling.” All talk died down after that, Lockwood occasionally murmuring a word or two to help Y/n with her crossword, and the members of the agency were at peace. At some point Lockwood excused himself to the toilet, and when he came back around five minutes later (they’d all heard the toilet flush) there was something slightly off about him. He still had the top hat on, but something was bugging Lucy. 

The same process repeated, Lucy looking up at him every now and then to try and figure out what was different and Y/n doing the same (the two girls had shared multiple confused looks), and then Lockwood excused himself to get a plate of biscuits. When he came back, Lucy once again felt something was off. The biscuits were passed around, crossword helped, top hat still in place, then Lockwood came up with another reason to leave the room. 

It was the fourth time he returned that Y/n appeared to realise what was happening. “Ohh, I see what you’re doing, Anthony Lockwood.”

“Do you?” he asked, innocent as a child. “I’ve noticed the photographs - don’t think I haven’t.”

“Oh, have fun finding them all. Why do you have multiple sizes of the same top hat?”

Lockwood shrugged. “Disguises. Why did you have so many photos of the head of the Fittes company?”

“Does it matter? You’ll be finding them for weeks.”

They finished their friendly bickering in hushed tones, Y/n standing up to let Lockwood sit down and balance her on his lap, and Lucy smiled softly at them. 

After wrangling the whole story of what had happened over the Christmas holidays out of the two of them, Lucy had spent roughly the last two and a half months teasing the living daylights out of the couple for their antics, but she couldn’t deny how cute they were together. 

She just hoped that the current poking in the sides they were doing didn’t turn into decking each other instead. 

Cut scene (alternative prank):

Now she was sat in her room in the attic, one leg hanging off the edge with the other folded underneath while she drew in her sketchbook. The creaking of the steps up to her floor alerted her to someone’s presence, and after a few seconds Lockwood’s head appeared, followed by his body. “Ah, Luce, thought I’d find you here.” He had something in his hand, shiny in a crinkly plastic bag. “I need your help to-” he broke off, mid-movement while he peered at one of the pictures on Lucy’s bedside table. It was of the five of them, Lockwood, George, Holly, Y/n, and herself, except in the place of Skull sat on the sideboard was Penelope Fittes’ face. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Did she put some of these up here, too?” Lucy struggled not to smile.

“Must have done it when I was in the kitchen earlier.” That was a lie, Lucy had done it herself. “What did you need me for?”

“Ah!” He lifted the plastic bag and grinned. “Doubloons. Not real ones, obviously, I bought them from a cheap party shop down the road. I’m going to hide them around the house.”

Tag list:

@strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @a-taken-url, @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @rhysand-devorak, @a-candle-maker, @h0lyheck, @apple-bottom-jeans6, @icantwaittoliveandlearn

@neewtmas, @bobbys-not-that-small, @avdiobliss, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @maraschinomerry, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, @oblivious-idiot

as always, if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here!

#deck the halls (and not your partner) #deck the halls specials #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you

[invisible-pink-toast]

spike is so hilarious to me because he’s got so many contrasting aspects to him: 

vampire

always goes out in the day

punk rock

victorian gentleman

horny af 

hopeless romantic

owns way too much leather 

Romantic 

kinky af

poet 

loves violence 

loves soap operas 

notorious murderer

has to prove he’s cooler than a 14 year old 

mansplain manipulate manslaughter manwhore malewife etc 

became a vampire and immediately went: ‘yay! now i can make my mum a vampire too and save her from tuberculosis!’ 

gets off on fighting

has to practice a speech to give the girl he likes a birthday present

drinks and smokes enough to kill a human

also drinks hot cocoa and eats weetabix 

lives in a crypt

dark victorian aesthetic 

but also a fridge and tv 

has killed 2 slayers

fell in love with a slayer

go to babysitter

has a deathwish 

punches a stick figure drawing of his sort-of-girlfriends ex 

names include: ‘William the Bloody’ and ‘Spike’ because he tortured his victims with railroad spikes

makes references to The Music Man & Nightmare Before Christmas

only vampire in history to fight for his soul and get it back 

one true love is a deep fried onion blossom 

#like???? #spike #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #spuffy #my post

[player1064]

for the carraville prompts: jamie’s pov of your fic it’s just not what’s done, and him doing/saying increasingly gay things that fluster gary who thought he’d never have a chance with the straight boy

honestly I could write a full length fic of this I LOVE this idea but I am exercising restraint (read: i am too sleepy to keep writing but want to post it anyway) and cutting it off at 1.3k words. Jamie is so so annoying in this god bless xx

---

1996.

There’s a weird buzz in the air when Jamie arrives at Melwood in the morning, and not the usual frustration he’d expect the morning after the first team have lost a game. Everyone’s grouped in little huddles, hushed whispers that cut out when anyone else walks by, but the weirdest part by far is that everyone is holding a fucking newspaper.

He walks into the apprentice’s dressing room and snatches a paper out of one of the other lads’ hands. He turns straight to the back page, but there’s nothing particularly noteworthy there – United won the league, big fucking whoop – so he frowns and flips the paper back to the front page.

Jamie would normally dismiss anything The Sun prints as garbage, but a quick glance around the dressing room shows a few other papers scattered around, all with similar headlines. All with the same photo, printed to take up most of the page, full colour even on a weekday.

The Sun’s headline is not a particularly creative one, but is does get the point across quite succinctly: there, right above the grainy, dimly lit photograph, are the words GAY NEVILLE?

“Oh my fucking God,” he hears Michael whisper from behind him.

Gary Neville, right-back, Jamie’s brain helpfully supplies. Manchester United, 21 years old and already eight caps for England.

His next thought is: what a fucking idiot.

He doesn’t give a shit about the gay thing, not really – he did spend two years at boarding school, he knows what some of the boys got up to there. No, his issue is more that United have just won the league, and everyone knows in a few days they’ll be getting the double when they win the FA cup too. 21 years old, a starter for a team that’s about to make footballing history, a spot in the squad for this summer’s Euros, and the stupid prick’s just thrown it all away because he felt like getting off with someone at a club where anyone could see him.

Maybe he should ask his coaches about practicing in right-back. He has a funny feeling a spot’s about to open up on the England team.

 *

2004.

“Not so brave now that yer boyfriend’s fucked off to Spain, are ye?”

Neville gives him a disinterested look from across the tunnel.

“Not my boyfriend,” he says flatly, rolling his eyes like he’s recited that line a thousand times before.

He probably has, actually. Jamie needs to come up with better insults, something more original. He’ll workshop some for next time.

Still, better to dig in on this one. “No, I s’pose he’s not now that he’s traded you in fer better things. Yer not exactly a Galactico.”

Neville’s expression is still blank but there’s a hint of fire behind his eyes, which tells Jamie that he’s on the right track, that if he pushes just a little bit more he’ll be able to tip him over the edge.

He sees Keane step out from his place at the front of the line, turn to Neville and mutter “d’you need me to –”

“Couldn’t give a fuck, he’s not worth worryin’ over,” Neville replies, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

There’s no time to say anything back, because the referee walks to the front of the tunnel and then it’s time to go start the game.

*

2006.

“How’s it work, then?”

Neville looks up from the bowl of Weetabix he’d been intently focused on and glances around the room, like he doesn’t believe it’s him Jamie’s talking to.

He shrugs. “How’s what work?”

“The gay thing. Did yous get to bring a WAG over too, or is that only for the normal lads?”

“Wouldn’t be a WAG, would it?” Neville mutters snobbishly.

He’s right, Jamie supposes. But that’s obviously not something he can admit, so he decides to lean in to the ‘stupid Scouser’ bit. “Why not?”

Neville squints at him suspiciously. “’cause he wouldn’t be a wife or girlfriend, would he?” He clears his throat, looks back down at his bowl. “If he existed, that is. Only brought my dad over for this tournament, does that answer your question?”

“Hmm,” Jamie says, ignoring the obvious cue to leave and taking a seat opposite Neville instead. “What would they call ‘im, if you weren’t a sad lonely old spinster… husbands and boyfriends… HABs? Doesn’t ‘ave quite the same ring to it, does it?”

*

2013.

“Why’d you never get married?”

Neville – Gary – looks up from his iPad to give Jamie his familiar ‘I can’t tell if you’re having me on or if you’re actually just stupid’ squint. “’s only been legal a few months, give us a break.”

“Civil partnered then, whatever. I don’t get it. You’re rich, you were a footballer. I know you’re ugly but looks don’t really factor into it, if your brother’s marriage is anythin’ to go by.”

Gary scowls at him. “Different measures of attractive when you’re gay. I’ll ‘ave you know men find me quite good looking, actually.”

“Do they fuck,” Jamie snorts, because he’s willing to bet that there isn’t a single man on Earth, gay or otherwise, who finds Gary Neville in his current state attractive. Maybe in his playing days, when he was all lean muscle and intense glares, but not now. “They’re just queuin’ up to get a piece a’yous, are they?”

“Maybe they are. Not that it’s any of your business, but I actually ‘ave a date tonight.”

“And that’s after he’s had a look at you?”

*

2015.

“Don’t go.”

Gary looks exhausted, pale skin and dark shadows under his eyes. His hair needs a trim, his stubble needs a shave, and he needs to not move to fucking Spain.

“Don’t look so stroppy, Carra. You’re about to become Sky’s number one pundit.”

“Don’t want it. C’mon, Gaz, what’m I gonna do for my Monday mornin’ entertainment without tales of your endless bad dates.”

“Most people just read the news.”

 “What’re you gonna do, you’re bad enough at pullin’ as it is without a language barrier makin’ things harder. It’s like you want to spend the next five months celibate.”

“Yer awfully concerned about my personal life, James, for someone who not two weeks ago was tellin’ me that I needed to, and I quote, ‘spend less time thinkin’ about fit men and more on thinkin’ about fit footballers instead.’”

“And I stand by that.”

*

2016.

Jamie’s changing out of his gym clothes when his conversation with Gary earlier in the week echoes in his mind, the dreamy way Gary had said his arms…

The guy probably doesn’t even train as much as Jamie does, probably just exaggerates because for some reason he’s trying to impress Gary. As if Gary is someone you’d want to impress.

He stands in front of the changing room’s mirror and flexes his bicep, notes with pride the bulging vein that leads up from his elbow. It’s a shame, really, that he has to wear suits when he’s on Sky. He’s sure viewing figures would go up if he was allowed to wear something a little more form fitting, maybe he should pitch it to the wardrobe people.

Gary would probably have a fit, his tends to get in a tizz at the suggestion of any change to the strict set of rules he’s got in his head. Jamie had once tried to wear his suit without a tie (because he’d spilled coffee on the one he’d brought, not that he’d told Gary that), and Gary had screeched at him for a good half an hour about professionalism until he relented and went to wardrobe to find a spare tie he could use.

Imagine if he wore a t-shirt. Gary’s head would probably explode.

All the more reason to do it, really.

#jamie's love language is bullying. obviously. #carraville #drabbles #thanks for the prompt! sorry it took me so long to get to but I am slowly working my way through my inbox again

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 1 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

Wall’s Sky Ray lollies advert

Synopsis

The Second Doctor is attempting to pilot the TARDIS, when he is attacked by two Daleks which have entered the ship. The Doctor covers his face from the Daleks.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Merry Christmas Doctor Who

Synopsis

The Doctor, Romana and K9 drink in the TARDIS in celebration of Christmas.

Propaganda

k-9 gets drunk and sings we wish you a merry christmas, the doctor looks mysteriously into the camera when asked what he would like for christmas and the entire crew and cast burst out laughing. it was made for an internal bbc christmas tape in 1978 and i love it so much (@lilydvoratrelundar )

Step into the 80s/On Through the 80s

Synopsis

These were adverts for Prime Computers, they featured the 4th Doctor, Romana II, and K9

Propaganda

you can tell this was at the point when tom baker and lalla ward were shagging (@lilydvoratrelundar )

It’s the weirdest commercial I’ve ever seen. (anonymous)

A Fix with Sontarans

Synopsis

There was no synopsis on TARDIS wiki, and I'm not going to write one because I'd have to watch this first and no thank you. (Jimmy Saville is in it, honestly i feel gross just typing his name). This needs to be a free pass for everything else in this group, I’m so serious.

Propaganda

do not vote for this one please. google jimmy savile if you're wondering. that being said i think this is an extremely important part of doctor who canon and deserves to lose a vote in this bracket (@lilydvoratrelundar )

Dalek Weetabix advert

Synopsis

A message from the Supreme Dalek to all other Daleks. Destroy the weetabix.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Famine Appeal 1985

Synopsis

The Doctor urges the viewers to donate and help with the famine in Ethiopia.

Propaganda

his incredible hair should sell this on its own (@lilydvoratrelundar )

#do not vote for a fix with sontarans #not even as a joke #im so serious #this should be a free pass for everything else #if you don't know jimmy saville is in this one #do people outside the uk know about him #i don't know but im not going to explain right now #look it up if you want #but the short version is he was a really famous guy and after he died a lot of people were finally able to come forward #about the terrible things he did to them #just don't vote for a fix with sontarans please #round 1

[arthursfuckinghat]

Some of you guys said that you'd never heard Arthur singing to himself, so I recorded this one! He sings pretty often for me and it's usually this or the Otis Miller song (you might have to turn up your volume to hear <3)

#he sings very quietly so sometimes it can get missed #but he's so lovely #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #mick vids #liveblogging #sorry about the horsey noises weetabix is very impatient #weetabix my horse #I love how I just stopped and went “wait a min”

[gingerbreadmonsters]

bourbon

or: you know, like the kind you have with tea!

gn!reader, no content warnings, literal actual crack. now look what you’ve done! happy birthday to our wonderful zo - please direct all damages claims to our recently-opened ‘how dare you’ division at @zozo-01 . hope you’re having a gorgeous day - have a slice of colin on me! for those who may not know, i am actually english, so make of that what you will. love to rae for dialect consultation and hotline tag assistance, for the proof if proof were needed that neither the atlantic nor pacific can stand in the way of discord mischief - because we've now tried them both! darlin having an absolute mare in 1600 words or less.

“Darling?”

God, you’ve got to stop going to bed so late. What time is it?

“You up yet?”

Sam’s voice. Mmm. But he’s not here next to you - he sounds like he’s over by the door. Eyes still closed, you wave one arm vaguely in his direction in a feeble attempt to persuade him back into bed with you. “No.”

He laughs, walking over to take your hand, but unfortunately standing his ground when you try to pull him down. Stupid vampire strength.

“Nice try, darling,” he says, and it sounds… weird, somehow. “But we said we’d be round at Milo’s at half eleven, and we’re not about to be late again.”

The more he speaks, the stranger he sounds. What’s wrong with him? There’s definitely something funny about it, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

“Did you-” Blearily, you crack one eye open to look at him - he looks just the same as ever, handsome even in the darkness of the blackout curtains. “Wait, what did you say?”

Sam rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and the sight is so beautifully familiar that it’s almost enough to make you wonder if you really just didn’t hear him right. Then he opens his mouth, and nope, you were right. There’s something wrong.

“I said, they’re expecting us at Milo’s at half eleven, and it’s almost quarter past ten.” What sort of fucked-up fever dream is this? “Now, are you getting up, or am I carrying you?”

The words don’t come, staring up at him in abject confusion, your mouth just hanging open as you try desperately to make sense of what he’s saying. Why does he sound so - so-

“...Darling?”

-so English?

After a few seconds of bewildered eye contact, he seems to gather that you’re currently incapable of human speech, and lets go of your hand.

“Right then,” he says, and it’s starting to make your head hurt a bit. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready, then.”

“Yeah.” You nod, plastering on a cheery smile and hurriedly starting to sit up. “Yeah, I’ll, uh - I’ll just be a minute…”

He disappears out the door and you listen as he goes down the stairs and into the kitchen, before reluctantly dragging yourself out of bed and walking over to the wardrobe. What the hell is he doing?

Your first impulse is to say that it’s a prank, that he’s putting on an accent for fun, to try and mess with your head or something. But that can’t be it - Ash and Milo have dragged him into enough of their truth-or-dare games for you to know firsthand how awful he is at accents, and he’d never be able to keep it up for more than a sentence or two, least of all with a straight face. There’s no magic you’ve ever heard of that could make this happen, and people don’t just wake up talking like a completely different person, do they? So is it on purpose? Does he know what he’s doing?

Unsettled, you finish getting dressed and head into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Maybe that will make things a bit more ordinary, right? You’ve just… woken up on the wrong side of bed. You must just be hearing things. Hopefully, when you go downstairs, everything will be back to normal.

“There you are, darling. All alright?”

You’re in the kitchen. Everything is not back to normal.

It doesn’t smell like coffee. Hazily, you let Sam nudge you into a chair at the dining table, numbly accepting the offered glass of water and bowl of - is that Weetabix? God, you haven’t had this stuff in ages. It’s still as cardboard-y as ever, but you’re not really paying attention. Someone’s feeling unusually chatty this morning, it seems, and it’s starting to seriously throw you off now.

“-and he was going on about something Vincent said - have to admit, half of it was in French so I only got the gist, but-”

A pause, while he takes a sip of his Earl Grey. Your head is going to explode.

“But anyway, apparently it all went a bit pear-shaped - he said he’d had to leg it downstairs ‘cause Alexis had caught him nicking gum off her desk, but there’d been a delivery downstairs, right, and-”

“Are you okay?”

He stops, taken slightly aback, and you realise that you’ve said it out loud.

“You just - you-” Hastily, you try to clarify, hands waving awkwardly in front of you as you speak like it’ll help. “Your voice…”

He has the gall to look confused. “What about it?”

“Oh, you know!” you say through a mouthful of Weetabix. “The accent?”

“Yeah, I… I know,” he replies, like you’ve just told him the sky is blue. “I have one.”

“Not that one!”

Sam takes another sip of tea, utterly bemused. “What other one would I have?”

“But you’re not - you’re American!” Frustrated, your spoon clatters against the empty bowl as you dump it in the sink to wash up later, and you cross your arms as you turn to face him across the kitchen. “You’re literally from Mont Blanc!”

“...Yeah?” He seems to be taking the impromptu interrogation in stride now, raising an eyebrow in what he probably thinks is a playful challenge, but to you it’s reading more as wilful ignorance. “What about it?”

You take a deep, calming breath. It… well, it sort of works.

“Sam.”

“Yes?”

Hopefully, the smile you’re putting on looks a lot easier than it feels, like you’re playing along with the joke. “You can stop doing the voice now, I get it.”

He blinks. “The… voice.”

“Yeah.” Your head is starting to ache, ever so slightly. “The whole British thing.”

“British? But I’m not…?” He finishes his tea, setting the mug down on the countertop behind him, head tipping to one side as he looks at you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re American.”

“Yes,” he says, “Which really shouldn’t be news at this point, darling-”

“And you’ve never lived in the UK.” To be honest, you’re mostly just thinking out loud at this point, but he replies all the same.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve never even been to England before.”

“Well, unless you count a stopover in London on the way to France - must have been… ooh, five, six years ago? Oh, it was wonderful, William wanted us to visit some of his old m-”

“So why are you talking like that!” you wail, thoroughly confused and head aching even worse than before. “It’s not - you - you don’t - aarghh!”

Fuck this, fuck this whole stupid game, fuck this trip to Milo’s house for whatever birthday party bullshit he said he’d do - you’re going back to bed. Now. Sam tries to catch your arm as you pass him, stomping back out of the kitchen and clutching your head in your hands, but he catches sight of your too-sharp teeth and clearly thinks better of it. Good. You’d never actually bite him like this, but it’s just what happens with wolves.

He calls out after you, but you don’t hear it - everything’s just a blur of sound that washes over you in a strange, dizzy wave. In the end, you don’t even make it upstairs, throwing yourself down on the loveseat and grumpily hiding under the blanket draped over the back.

It’s pleasantly warm under here, and everything makes sense. It’s all normal. Nobody says weird things, or talks in some weird voice that they’re not supposed to have. It’s quiet, and it’s dark, and everything is back to how it should be.

Absentmindedly, you realise that you’ve shifted through your pyjamas. Never mind. It’s nice like this, curled up on the soft cushion, nose tucked neatly under your tail. Comforting. Safe.

No sound except your quiet breathing, no light except what little bleeds through the softness of the blanket. Nobody here but you.

There’s nothing to worry about.

There’s nothing going on.

It’s all going to be absolutely f-

“Darlin’, you - woah!”

It takes your eyes barely half a second to adjust to the light, clawing the blanket aside with a low snarl at whoever dares to come and annoy you, but-

“Easy, there!” Wait, this isn’t right - you were downstairs a minute ago. How are you back in bed again? And you’re human again - but you didn’t shift back, did you? “Jesus, you damn near took my head off…”

So caught up in your confusion, you barely even realise what's different now.

“Anyhow, now you’re up, you’d best be gettin’ dressed,” Sam says over his shoulder, turning to leave. “Milo wants us round in an hour, and unless we want another dressing down from Marie, we probably ought to be there on time for once.”

Before he can get too far, you reach out and grab his hand. You don’t really know why. It just feels right.

He looks down at you with a smile, pleased, if a little confused. “You okay?”

“Hmm?” Shaking your head slightly, you’re just happy to hear him. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You were pretty noisy, from what I heard,” he laughs, thumb stroking slowly over the backs of your fingers. “Didn’t know you were a sleeptalker. Havin’ a strange dream or somethin’?”

“I, uh…”

A deep, calming breath. It smells like coffee.

“Yeah, well. Something like that.”

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted crack #redacted fluff #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

[sunshineandviolets]

Alps no!! Cold milk all the way! the only time warm milk in cereal is acceptable is when its really really cold outside!!!

mab i love you dearly, but abso fucking loutely not

tbh the main cereal i eat is weetabix and that would be horrible if not warmed

but also ya missing out when having chocolate cereal and get to drink the warm chocy milk afterwards 😌

#the only time i had cold milk with cereal was when i stayed at a hotel #cause they dont have a microwave out on the buffet table!

[ghoultrifle]

just a quick question :0

do you see an A anywhere in the brand name ? no ? :0 wow i wonder why… BECAUSE WEETBIX IS CORRECT AND WEETABIX IS NOT

(i am of course joking i love it when you say weetabix no matter how incorrect it is 🥰)

LISTEN HERE YOU MOTHERFU-

IT'S WEETABIX SEE

WEET-A-BIX

(i will excuse you, and only you for calling it weetbix <3)

#trifle answers #husband <3

[thescholarlystrumpet]

New WIP Tag Game!

Courtesy of the wonderful @weirdly-specific-but-ok <3

Give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you love [fiction, non-fiction, from different works or the same, from completed stories or poems or WIPs, from yesterday or ten years ago]. If that seems hard, even one will do. It doesn't have to be perfect. It can just be something silly that gives you joy.

And give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you dislike and find shitty. Anything at all as long as you wrote it. If you think it's ridiculous or absolute fucking garbage, even better! That's the point of this game. To see that we all write good things and bad things. Yeah? You can do this. And remember that both these categories are subjective.

**

Shitty lines (hard to find not because I don't write them but because I erase them as fast as I can think of a new one...)

They were tree trunks wider around than some men are tall with myriad scrubby looking bushes around them, looking almost like God herself had just throw piles of leaves down haphazardly. (Crowley is accidentally Robin Hood and Strumpet is bad at describing foliage)

"Getting a bit long in the tooth for crawling around on bad carpeting, these days.” Crowley took a beat, shouted something obscene toward the screen, then turned his full attention back to Aziraphale. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that, though. Since I was hoping you assumed I was a ripe twenty-something.” (RHPS WIP, just don't love that last line yet)

“But it was way cool of you. Really.” Newt smiled, a genuine and guileless thing, much like the man, himself. (Glam Rock AU - wanted Newt to awkwardly use 70's slang but google failed me and 'groovy' was too obvious)

Lines I love

RHPS Fic:

 “Do you often scare off audience members?”

“Only the ones with no imagination…” Crowley shrugged one shoulder. “Or the ones who only get on their knees in church.”

Priest AU:

When asked about Miss Device directly, Crowley seemed to give a different answer to every person: 

She’s my long lost aunt.

Sorry, never heard the name. Sounds a bit pretentious.

Wait, you can see her, too? 

Glam Rock AU: (this one needs context)

“I’m not repeating that,” she seemed to be talking to someone else, possibly covering the receiver as she did so. “You’re an absolute terror,” she told the other person before the muffling ceased and her voice was clear again on the line. “Sorry about that. We, uh, I mean I just needed to know if I should stock up on anything for Mr. Fell on Wednesday. Tea? Biscuits? Newt will know what I mean.” 

There was another series of sounds and more poorly stifled laughter, then a familiar voice chimed in, fuzzy and echoing in the background but unmistakable.

“Weetabix! So he can shite out that stick up his arse!”

The woman on the phone covered the receiver again, though not before releasing a snort of laughter, herself. There was a series of shushing noises and Fell knew he ought to simply hang up. The message had been delivered. And then some. 

Tagging @hakunahistata @voluptatiscausa @ineffabildaddy @mrghostrat @kotias @theravenmuse @malachitegrey @captainblou @ineffablyruined @mrscakeishere and anyone else who wants to!

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