#the local supermarkets are Disappointing

[everparanoid]

For you, I'd steal the stars w/ Wriothesley

Modern Teyvat Au! Wriothesley x f! reader

cw: fluff, minor hint at soulmates.

word count: 3.5k

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠...

╭────────────────────────╮

Wriothesley couldn’t recall how he found himself standing on an unimportant cyan Tuesday afternoon in Autumn, staring at a painting in the Fontaine National Art Gallery not too far away from his office. The painting, Wriothesley reckoned, couldn’t be any larger than two sheets of parchment and yet it hung alone in the centre of a white room. A masterpiece of simplicity. Above him, a giant white ball spun in slowed motion as plain as the rest of the room, a compliment to the art. The canvas however was a deep navy blue, the same shade as the night. Covering this deep blue were speckles of white, spontaneous in their positions. Some gathered in clustered constellations unknown to man. Others, singular. In the middle a golden speck shone, overwhelming the image the longer he stared. He stared and stared until it appeared to be shooting out of the blues and whites and filling his vision. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why such a simple concept had moved him. Why an image alone in a room far away from all the other extravagant displays of artistic prowess had managed to give him such peace; for in the time that he had been staring at the image—lost to time and the world—he had experienced a thousand lifetimes. He’d been everything; from a small sapling to an ancient oak tree; from a huge wolf to a small squirrel; from a primordial narwhal to a tiny transparent fish swimming in the bottom of the darkest blue seas. He’d experienced nations crumbling and rising again and loves that transcended time and space. All beautiful. All but a millisecond in the eyes of the vast universe.

“To you in every universe,” an unknown voice said.

“Huh?” Wriothesley responded, his attention stolen. His reality returned to the same bleak normality which he had just escaped.

You nodded to the painting, “That’s its name.”

He stared at you with an uncertainty reserved for strangers. He hadn’t heard your footsteps as you entered the room nor had he seen you stop beside him, and yet here you were. A stranger. A golden fleck in his blue world.

“Are you interested in it?” You spoke using a soft tone that Wriothesley particularly liked. He hadn’t heard a voice like yours before. He hadn’t heard much past the same blue tones of business tycoons and wannabe entrepreneurs who wished to fill his and their pockets with mounds of green. Being a successful CEO of a Fortune 100 made one lose the many colours of life to shades of blue and green. At the end of a long day, he often found himself wondering what the sun might look like beyond the aeons of blue.

“In what, sorry?” he responded, confused.

“The painting.”

He noticed your name card pinned to your collar announcing you as a member of staff from the gallery.

“Oh, yes. I am,” he said almost sheepishly; his interest was still new to him. Wriothesley always prided himself on his curiosity though he’d never thought himself to be one interested in art. Yet on that random Tuesday when his assistant had got his meal wrong, he’d found himself wandering into the art gallery as if compelled by some supernatural force. “I’ve never seen this before.”

Wriothesley was sure that if he had known such a masterpiece was here, he would have come to see it.

“It’s new,” you said.

“Ah, I see.”

He felt your eyes linger on him for a second before you continued. “Most people are disappointed when they pay the five thousand mora to get past the security only to see this.”

He supposed objectively that he could understand why. If one was hoping for a room of mirrors or a light show they were bound to be disappointed. Then again five thousand mora did buy a meal deal at the local supermarket. But what was five thousand mora to him?

“How long has it been here?” he asked.

“As of right now?” you appeared to be looking up as if calculating, “Three weeks.”

“And how are the numbers?”

“At first people came for the exclusivity and the curiosity. But because the artist is anonymous, they didn’t advertise their art. It’s their thing, I guess. A sort of authorless art. I think it lets people project more. You know? Imagine themselves as the artist…”

Wriothesley did know. Even as a successful man, more than half of the projects happening in Fontaine were due to his discreet puppeteering. He did not like the limelight. He’d make appearances here and there but the people who needed to know him knew him, and those who didn’t could read the credits. It was his philosophy that one didn’t need their face everywhere to do their job.

 “But now… I guess we are lucky if we get twenty people in a week. There is other interesting stuff to look at in the gallery so…” your speech faded off.

Wriothesley hummed in acknowledgement.

“Honestly, there aren’t many people that show true interest in this piece,” you continued.

He could feel the excitement seep from your pores like solar flares, and he almost found himself stepping closer to absorb its heat.

“Do you want to know about it?” you asked suddenly.

Buzz Buzz.

“No,” he hesitated, glancing down at his phone. “Thank you.”

Your shoulders dropped but your smile remained.

“It’s okay.”

“Perhaps another time?” He found himself saying. He hadn’t known why he had proposed that. He had no intentions of coming back. He didn’t have the time to come back. To see; to stop; to experience, but he would. He knew that he would. Even if he had to make the time. He’d return in hopes of experiencing that feeling once more.

#

On a random cerulean Tuesday in Winter, he returned. It had been two months since he first witnessed the painting. Once again, he had wandered into the art gallery during a lunch break. And once again, he stood in the empty room. Alone. Lost in a dream within a dream. This time, as he stared into the painting that had once again entranced him, he became a blade of grass growing next to a beautiful flower. Watching it; admiring it; loving it. He couldn’t understand why in every instance you seemed to seep in. He didn’t know you, and yet it felt like he’d seen you in everything since that day.

‘A moment where time stops, worries fade, and everything feels right. That is the feeling we are chasing. That is the feeling we must never stop searching for. In those moments, I will recognise you in every lifetime. Across every state of being. My heart will seek out yours like eyes do at night, in search of a northern star. I will seek you in every beautiful thing. To you in every universe—’

Wriothesley leaned back, perplexed. The plaques lining the walls of the white room and under the ball held no information about the artist. What had it meant? He couldn’t fathom the thought of something so abstract.

“It’s you,” that same voice from before said from behind, tearing Wriothesley from his thoughts. He didn’t need to turn to know that the owner of the voice was you. Your silent presence had a magnetic quality, pulling him in without him realising it, and suddenly there you were, standing beside him.

“Hello,” he said, though the greeting felt insufficient when he laid eyes upon you. He couldn’t decide whether you had grown more beautiful, or his memory hadn’t held up the splendour that took his breath away when you stood with that genuine smile on your face, and your hands tucked into the pockets of the blazer you wore. You looked like a painting yourself, like something that had just stepped out of a Constable landscape and wandered into the gallery. An angelic apparition. You had a gentle sway to you like you couldn’t stand completely still. Wriothesley wondered if a gust of wind were to blow through the white room, would it blow you away too, like a leaf flees a tree in a breezy morning?

“Did you experience something different this time?” you asked.

Wriothesley’s features darkened. You couldn’t possibly see into his mind, and he wasn’t one to wear his emotions on his face. He’d learnt not to.

“Have I been standing here for a while?”

You shook your head. “No more than ten minutes.”

He blinked.

“It felt like longer, right?” you asked, cheerily.

“A lifetime,” he admitted, his voice softening.

“It does that.”

“Should I leave? Am I holding up the line?”

“No, you’re good,” you said. “No one comes here anymore anyway.”

You turned to the painting. It hadn’t changed, and yet for Wriothesley, the beauty of it seemed to spill out of the edges and illuminate you. Golden. Flickering. He found himself stealing glances at you, an intriguing stranger who had effortlessly piqued his interest. An intriguing stranger, who he only knew the name of and nothing else. Unconsciously, he leaned toward you, and you did too, as if pulled into each other’s gravitational field.

“Why is it alone?” he asked.

You stepped back and looked up at the giant white ball above, spinning in slow circles, and then to the plain white walls in the otherwise stark room.

“It’s not alone.”

“But it is,” he snapped, growing quite annoyed with his inability to understand your abstractness.

Wriothesley liked answers. Puzzles were fun, and they had their place in his world, but answers were like keys to locked doors.

“What makes you think that just because there is a singular piece in a room the whole place is not art?”

His brows furrowed.

Your smile widened as you turned to the painting. “If this room was filled with paintings, would you have noticed it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He didn’t have time for this, but he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from you and your questions.

You took another step back, and Wriothesley watched you as you stopped directly under the giant white ball this time. With an open hand outstretched to him, he gathered that you wanted him to join you in the centre of the room. Eventually, he took one long step, and then another till he stood closer to you but not beside.

You lowered your hand.

“Let me put this another way for you, when you sit in your—” you looked him over, “meetings, and you attend your fancy work dinners, do you notice all the art around you? The furniture, the architecture, the choices made by your colleagues to look expensive. Do you stop to take it all in or does it become lost in singular shades of monotony?”

Wriothesley pictured the blues and greens of his life but dismissed the idea of you understanding his thoughts. “You don’t make millions by not noticing.”

You shrugged. “But you do become numb to it.”

“Correct me if I am wrong, but you’re saying that the whole room is art?”

Wriothesley couldn’t say that he was fond of modern art, but he did appreciate that it had a time and place.

“This room, stark and colourless, is as much a part of the painting as the painting itself. Without the painting, the room remains devoid of colour, but with it, the room comes to life. It’s as if the artist intended the painting to be a guide in an otherwise monochrome world. By which, you who see it realise that the painting was never confined to the canvas. But can see the beauty of the entire world, in all lifetimes, across universes. Or maybe it is something completely different, art is subjective after all.”

“To you, the world must be a beautiful place,” he mused aloud.

“And yours is not?”

He chuckled, “I can assure you it’s not as vibrant as yours.”

“What makes you think that mine is vibrant? What if mine is like this room? Bland and empty.”

He wouldn’t believe it, but then again, he wouldn’t not believe it either. It was always the people with the brightest souls who hurt the most.

“I’ll do you one better. What if it’s mine?” he asked.

“Are you seeing your golden star right now then, mister?”

“It’s Wriothesley, and maybe.”

Wriothesley noticed your eyes widen briefly before you suppressed a small smile and took a step back. “Well Wriothesley, I’ll have to agree. It is yours. It’s your mind, your world. The painting is your universe. At least that’s how I think the artist intended it.”

“There is no artist,” he said.

You tilted your head to the side slightly and clasped your hands behind your back.

“There always is,” you said and glanced back at him before returning to the painting. “If you have the time to hear about them, I will gladly tell you.”

In his pocket, his phone rang, filling the silent room. His time was up once again.

“Next time,” he said.

A sadness flashed across your eyes before you smiled.

“Sure,” you said.

#

A month passed, and the sad lingering look in your eyes haunted Wriothesley through his blue days. Green still rained from the sky, but every time he caught a glimmer of gold passing his office or on the street, he’d imagine it was you.

On a random Wednesday in Winter, one that felt more azure than usual, Wriothesley came again to the gallery. But this time, the white room was filled with modern paintings. Gone was the white ball and the night sky painting, and you. Gone was the security guard who would grumble every time Wriothesley dropped a small wad of mora in the man’s hand to let him into the paid exhibit. In its place, people heaved; phone cameras flashed and made snapping noises as they posed before the art, hoping to add it to their social media feed. Wriothesley didn’t enter the room; he couldn’t. He didn’t like crowded places, and none of the art was of interest to him. And none of them were you.

Wriothesley cleared his throat and straightened his tie as he approached the help desk by the entrance of the gallery. Behind it sat an older man, staring down at his mobile phone, humming along to a Vocaloid song that played in his earbuds. Beside him, a younger man, barely eighteen, who looked excited at the possibility of not staring into space any longer, waved Wriothesley over.

“Can I help you, sir?” the young man said. His name card, Timmie, glimmered under the artificial light.

“Yes, I think you can,” Wriothesley began. “There was an exhibit here about a month ago. One with a singular painting in it—no artist.” He wanted to ask about you but thought better than to do that.

“No artist?” Timmie asked.

“Yes, no artist.”

Timmie rubbed the back of his neck as if he couldn’t comprehend the idea of an exhibition without an artist.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I am.”

After apologising quickly, he began typing aggressively at his keyboard. Typing and then deleting and typing again. Presumably, he was bringing up the list of art that had been exhibited over the last year. Wriothesley waited, tapping his foot, and watching people pass, nodding at the occasional person who stared.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t seem to find the exhibit you are talking about.”

Wriothesley frowned.

“Oh? But it was here last month?”

“It’s not showing up on my files without an artist’s name unless you remember the name of the piece?”

“To you in every universe,” Wriothesley said, remembering only the colour of your eyes and the gold aura that seemed to follow you. He was sure he’d remember that name until all the stars left the sky.

Timmie typed it out, and for a second, Wriothesley had hope. Until Timmie looked up and said, “Oh, that. It’s moved temporarily to the International Modern Art Gallery in Inazuma.”

“Inazuma?”

Timmie nodded.

“As has the artist,” His eyes widened. “Who would have thought? She’s one of our own.”

Wriothesley perked up at the information.

“Did you happen to have her name by any chance so I might look her up?” Wriothesley asked, trying to mask his desperation with cool indifference.

“I mean if you want,” Timmie said.

#

In the art shop attached to the gallery on an emerald Friday, more than a year later in Spring, Wriothesley found you assisting an elderly woman, wrapping a print of a painting. He paused, captivated by the sight of you. You were even more stunning despite the time passed and in comparison to the modelesque women he saw in his everyday life. Your beauty, accentuated by the soft lighting of the shop, and your radiant smile, seemed to light him up inside. He lingered amongst the shelves waiting for you to finish up with the elder woman, who was eagerly telling you about her seventh great-grandchild, to which you seemed to listen with just as much interest. He found himself mirroring your joy as he admired you until he stumbled upon a postcard of the piece he had spent months searching for. The one that had moved to Inazuma, then to Mondstadt, then to Snezhnaya, Sumeru, and Natlan, till he bought it at an auction, white room, giant spinning ball, blue painting, plaques, and all. In this picture, the last plaque was too small to be noticed, just as it had been when he’d stared at it both times in person. But he knew it was there, the final part of the collection of plaques. And the full name of the exhibition.

When the elderly woman left, he approached you, his eyes locked on you who had become his universe.

You looked up and smiled, “It’s a beautiful piece,” you said, gesturing to the postcard in his hand.

“It is,” Wriothesley replied, his gaze fixed on you rather than the inferior postcard print. Nothing could compare to the real thing. “But the exhibition has gone.”

“It has,” you confirmed. He was sure you knew that it was him who bought it. It wasn’t hard to figure out, he was obvious despite his outward coolness.

“Are you leaving too?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice. He had thought you were a dream. You’d been gone for so long that he feared he would have to wait a lifetime.

“Why?”

“You weren’t here,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

 “I was volunteering at a cat shelter,” you lied. “Did you miss me?”

“Mildly,” he responded, though he too was lying.

“Only mildly?”

He laughed, “Okay, maybe a bit more—”

“Just a bit?” you interrupted, your eyes sparkling.

“I missed your commentary,” he admitted.

“My commentary? Wow,” you said, feigning surprise.

“Oh? Not enough for you?”

You shook your head, your eyes dancing with mirth. He pretended to think, but in truth, he was searching for a simple way to express such complex emotions.

“I missed your sunny presence,” he finally said.

“My sunny presence?” you echoed.

“Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?” he asked, unable to suppress his smile.

“Maybe,” You leaned forward on the counter, your intelligent eyes tearing down his icy walls. “What have you been up to? Aside from missing me, of course.”

“I just abandoned a meeting to chase after a shooting star,” Wriothesley confessed, for once wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“And? Did you catch it?”

“Half of it,” he affirmed. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m just finishing. Why?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee with me?” he proposed, hoping he wasn’t too late. He’d already blocked off the rest of the night. He’d block off the rest of the year if he knew he’d get to spend it with you.

“I don’t like to drink coffee this late.”

“Tea, then? With dinner? I would love to hear about the artist of that piece. What was its full name again? For the painting and the room.”

“To you in every universe—” you began.

“For you, I’d steal the stars,” he finished. “Very sneaky of you by the way.”

Your lips parted as you took in a breath.

Wriothesley could feel every nerve in his body fighting to touch you, to be closer to you. You who brought gold into his monotonous world. You who he’d steal all the stars in the universe to be closer to.

“You know I never believed in coincidences,” Wriothesley said.

“Neither have I,” you said.

“I learned a long time ago that if you want something you have to fight for it. So, no pressure of course, but does tea and dinner sound good?”

Your grin was a small act that set his night sky ablaze with more glimmers of gold. To him, the shop couldn’t be filled with any more colours than they were then. Gone were the shades of green and blue, washed away by a spectrum of magnificence; where suddenly he was him and you were you, existing in the same universe.

“It sounds perfect,” you said.

╰────────────────────────╯

KO-FI MASTERLIST

#wriothesley imagines #genshin fanfic #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley fanfic #genshin drabbles #wriothesley #wriothesley fluff

[sserpente]

A/N: This popped into my head earlier, I had to write it before Christmas is over for this year! Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 1348 Warnings: fluff

“Okay but what if the villain turned out to be the alleged ally? You know, that siren they met that showed them the way? If you want a plot twist, that’s gonna blow their minds.”

Making friends used to be so much easier back when you were still in kindergarten. You’d look at each other, share a toy and play pretend without even knowing each other’s names. Today, things were more complicated, especially when you moved to Hawkins, not knowing anyone.

A small town such as this was generally suspicious of new people, even at your new job which was the reason you had moved here in the first place. Everyone had been suspicious—everyone except for Eddie Munson who had practically welcomed you with open arms.

Now here you were, working on his new campaign with him on his bed, cuddling with one of his pillows and watching him frantically scribble down ideas for it. One of his mixtapes was playing in the background, introducing you to a bunch of bands you had never heard of before. Sure, you knew Metallica but you’d never exactly listened to them until you met that goofy metal head.

“You know what, sweetheart, that’s a brilliant idea.” Eddie grinned, tossing the dice he’d been fidgeting with to the side to write it down. It was then the both of you were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Wayne stuck his head through the gap in the door. He gave you a quick nod when he spotted you.

“Uncle Wayne, old man, aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Eddie asked, beaming at him.

“Change of plans. Have you got a moment, boy?”

“Oh, that sounds like my cue. I should get going anyways, it’s getting late. There’s still lots to prepare for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

You pressed a kiss to Eddie’s cheek before you slid off his bed and patted Wayne on the shoulder on your way out.

“Okay, I’ll see you after Christmas then?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss that campaign for anything!”

“I’ll see you around, kid. I keep forgetting you live on your own. Take a leaf out of her book, Eddie.”

You grabbed your jacket, chuckling when Eddie rolled his eyes. When you leaned down to put your shoes on, Wayne’s voice got quieter.

“So what’s up?”

“I’m sorry, boy, I have bad news. It… looks like I won’t be able to afford Christmas dinner this year. We’ll have to manage without a turkey. Those stupid birds cost a fortune these days…”

You swallowed, pretending you didn’t hear them as you tightened your shoelaces.

“We’ll just… have a frozen pizza meal, Wayne, it’s alright.” It wasn’t alright, you could hear the sadness and disappointment in his voice. Eddie had told you his Christmasses as a child had never been the jolliest, it pained you all the more to hear him pretend like he wasn’t bothered by the tragic circumstances.

“You sure, boy?” Your eyes travelled to the small Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. It was barely as high as the dinner table and decorated with those cheap plastic baubles they sold at the local supermarket. Given that Eddie and Wayne lived in the trailer park, the fact they weren’t all too wealthy didn’t surprise you. But this? Christmas was only once a year, if Wayne couldn’t even afford that, things must have been incredibly tough for them right now.

“It’s a really cold winter. The heating costs are a lot higher than usual, that ate up the budget for Christmas. I’m really sorry, Eddie. We’ll still have a great night, I hope.”

“Sure we will, Wayne.”

With a silent sigh, you tore your gaze away from the sad Christmas tree and sneaked out of the house, deciding there and then you wouldn’t let Eddie and his uncle spend Christmas with frozen pizza and without presents.

-

The thing was, you were initially going to spend Christmas Eve alone anyway. You didn’t exactly know a lot of people yet except for Eddie anyway and travelling back home to your family was too pricy even for you but at least, you would treat yourself to a few new books and most importantly, Christmas dinner. So now, instead of preparing everything at home, you packed up all the ingredients and sides and wrapped yourself up to visit the Munsons.

You had even gone out to buy some last minute presents for the two of them. Needless to say, when you knocked on the door on the night of Christmas Eve, feeling like the main character in a Christmas movie, Wayne was more than surprised when he opened the door.

“Hey, Mr. Munson. Sorry to disturb you on Christmas Eve without any forewarning, um… may I come in?”

“Of course, kid. Come in before you freeze on the porch.”

He opened the door wider for you to step in, revealing Eddie sitting at the kitchen table with his copy of The Hobbit. His brown eyes lit up when he recognised you under the warm scarf and the hat, calling out your name.

“Hey, Eds.” You grinned, putting the bags you had brought on the kitchen table. “Merry Christmas to you both. I, um… okay, look, this is going to be weird but the other day I, uh… I overheard you saying that your budget was too tight for a proper Christmas dinner this year and… I truly didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was going to spend the evening alone and… well, long story short, I brought my turkey here and I thought we could have Christmas dinner together?” You gasped for air, hoping Eddie’s uncle wouldn’t be too mad you had heard about his financial struggles. Instead, he blinked at you, unwilling to believe what had just come out of your mouth and Eddie… Eddie wrapped his arms around you and kept kissing your face until you turned into a giggling mess.

“You’re amazing!”

“That’s… I don’t know what to say, kid. Thank you.”

Eddie lifted you off your feet in the meantime, turning you both around until you started feeling dizzy. “Shit, I’m officially in love with you!” You paused, realising what he had just said. Eddie appeared equally surprised about his own words. He put you down again and for just a brief moment, you looked at each other. You cleared your throat. You’d speak about this after Christmas dinner, without Wayne in the room—even if your heartbeat sped up by two-hundred percent.

“I, um… I brought presents, too.”

Ever since the new Metallica album had come out, Eddie was raving about the special edition vinyl including instrumental versions and even a new version of an older song. The local record store had had exactly one left when you got there and for Wayne, you had bought a new toolbox because his old one was falling apart and you remembered him saying he loved building and fixing things around the house. You’d wrapped them neatly, with both their eyes widening when you pulled them out of your bag and placed them under the small Christmas tree.

“Wayne, would you take care of the turkey? Eddie and I will prepare the sides. I brought potatoes and some fresh vegetables, and I made some sauces at home to go with the meat.”

“Sounds great, kid, thank you.” Wayne got to work immediately, accepting the turkey you handed him to move to the kitchen. Eddie nudged you with his hips, pushing you forward a little. You chuckled, handing him the potatoes. He looked at them as if they’d bite him if he touched them too much.

“Let’s go, Eddie The Banished. We’re all hungry.”

“Have I mentioned you’re amazing?”

“Uh-huh. And you can tell me some more while we’re chopping up the vegetables.” The kiss he pressed to your cheek in response felt different—more affectionate and intimate than your usual hellos and goodbyes. You bit your lower lip, heating up from the inside out. Merry Christmas indeed. You should have brought some mistletoe as well.

-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story!

By the waaaay... I finally released my first novel! :o You can find all info about it in the Linktree in my bio! <3

Merry Christmas, everyone!

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things eddie #stranger things eddie imagine #joseph quinn

[reginageorgesgirlfriend3020]

Sam and Tara adore you! (Part 11)

Sam:

During football season she'll do the food shopping

Especially when your favorite football team plays on Sunday night

Sam will buy ice cream and apple pie from the local supermarket

She gets lonely when you have to work late

So to surprise you she'll send you a picture of her

In some sexy lingerie

Sam knows how to make your body feel amazing

She can't keep her hands off your butt when you and Sam are having sex

She loves being the big spoon after sex

Sam will never disappoint you

When you want her to hold you she will

Says you look sexy as a cat for Halloween

Tara:

Hates the idea of friends with benefits

Tara knows that friends with benefits always ends messy

So she wants to be your girlfriend instead

And best friend

And Late night midnight lover

You love when Tara holds you while you take a nap with her

Her arms around you makes you feel so safe that

You and Tara take another nap together

She loves doing such naughty things to you in bed

Loves to put her hands and fingertips all over your pale skin

Especially on your thighs and in between your thighs

Tara loves to see you dress up for date night with her

#sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #scream headcanons #sam carpenter × you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader

[starrkc]

I saw Dr. Pepper being mentioned on the dash and remembered that one time earlier this year I found it at my local supermarket and was so excited to try it!!! Only to be disappointed by how medicine like it tastes. I just remembered that taste now. Not appealing at all. So i figured it must be an acquired taste to ppl that like it. 😒 😕 😪

#ooc / mems speaks. #can you tell im not from 'merica? xD #anyhoo summary is #dr pepper is why >.> #gimme mountain dew any day over that #or cherry coke even which i dont like much #but im not a big soda drinker anyhoo

[thisisntwaterstones]

psa tomorrow is tłusty czwartek (fat thursday) and THE day to head to your local Polish shop to buy a beautiful fresh doughnut the size of your face* 🥰 Make sure you head there earlier on in the day to avoid the disappointment of them having sold out!

*not literally. sorry. but they are significantly bigger than supermarket ones

#Tłusty czwartek

[n3ssier]

Hi hello! Completely self-indulgent but may I request a fic - the Spetnatz having a crush on a local supermarket clerk? Thank you ^^

ooooh i like this idea, of course! i've started each character with a small paragraph or so and then hcs after, also sorry u guys are having a 1 month wait time for ur fucking requests im just lazy rn, also speaking to a guy and spending more time @ the gym and work and stuff soooo been busy

spetznaz with a crush on their local supermarket clerk!

*not proofread*

masterlist!

glaz

something small that timur enjoys during his lonely but very peaceful time off deployment was grocery shopping; its something to do, different from just sitting inside all day either painting or doing nothing more productive. that wasn't the only reason he enjoyed it though, the pretty cashier who always works friday afternoons was the main factor for him. he'd always make sure to go after 1 on fridays, in hopes that you would be working your usual shift at the not-so-special local supermarket before chatting to you slowly more and more throughout the next few weeks until suddenly he's your favourite customer.

•timur is so sweet and endearing, you wanna know him more, speak to him more

•shows up with flowers and a coffee/tea/whatevs at the end of your shift

tachanka

alexsandr is certainly an intimidating guy, he doesn't mean to be, he's just huge, tall, bulky, you name it! he doesn't want to appear that way, and when he took a liking to the pretty cashier at the supermarket near his house he tried his best to appear as friendly as he could in order to not scare you off, which he has admittedly done to other, milder crushes in the past..

•so chatty, so cute!!

•asks you about life, about you, and just even small simple questions, like "what's your favourite day of the week" or "what's your favourite colour?"

•shows up at the most random times just hoping you're there

fuze

shuhrat is a charming man. his subtle flirting and soft smiles in the direction of you, aka the cute cashier at his local supermarket, proved that very very much so. the small talk he starts when it's quiet has you blushing and thinking of him for the rest of the day, hoping you're working next time he comes back. the small talk escalates into full conversations, into him waiting for you to finish your afternoon shift for you two to go get coffee and chat even more.

•he would defo buy a valentine's day card and when you ask who it's for at the counter he'll say it's for a girl he knows that he likes, disappointing you before he gives it to you at the end of your shift !!!

•walks you home from work when it's dark and your bus/train has been cancelled🥹

kapkan

surprisingly, the shyest of them all. maxim is the typa customer you'd watch and secretly hope he comes to your checkout; except he does, your dreams are fulfilled. that would be if he spoke. a polite nod was all he gave you for a while, before he started saying "hi" and "thanks". after maybe like a month and a bit, maxim just straight up asked you "hey, do you want go out for coffee some time?"

•he would be like one of those hot strangers in public who you're in love with for the rest of your life, regardless of wether you ever see them again or not

•his voice isn't what you expect, it's nothing special and you're not even sure what you expected, but god it suits him

#rainbow six siege #r6siege #r6community #rainbow six siege fanfiction #r6s kapkan #timur glazkov #fanfic #mw2 #r6 spetznaz #r6 fanfiction #kapkan r6 #glaz r6 #r6s fuze #glaz #tachanka #r6 tachanka

[imagineaworld]

flatmates | hs

part 5 - in which y/n lies to harry

word count: 800

warnings: none?

masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  

the worst part the next day was not the hangover, but the fact that you remembered everything. the hangover wasn’t that bad, but remembering that you kissed harry was awful.

no way did you have feelings for harry. you only kissed him because you were drunk and he had his arms around you. you decided the best thing to do was pretend you couldn’t remember it and hope that harry wouldn’t bring it up.

it was 12pm before you left your room, freshly showered and hungry. rummaging through the cupboards, you felt a presence behind you.

“morning, love.” harry said. “how you feeling?”

why’d he have to be so cute? you thought, then scolded yourself for it.

“rough.” you said. not a lie. “i don’t even remember coming home.” lie.

you weren’t sure if you saw harry flinch or not. “that bad, eh?”

suddenly, you felt bad. almost guilty. the feeling of lying to harry wasn’t a pleasant one. he was so sweet and kind, and you were hurting him.

“i didn’t do anything embarrassing when i got in i, did i?” you asked. now you were prompting him to bring it up.

he laughed. “no, don’t worry.”

oh. “that’s alright then.” you laughed too.

why were you disappointed? you were the one who pretended not to remember what happened.

“so,” you changed to subject. “fancy coming shopping with me? we need to buy some food.”

he opened the cupboards, and seeing how bare they were, he agreed to go shopping with you.

after changing into something more presentable than your pyjamas, you met harry outside your flat by his car.

“you’ve never been in trevor before. isn’t he glorious?” harry said, patting the top of the black car.

“he doesn’t look like a trevor.” you commented.

harry frowned, tilting his head to look at the car from a different angle. “well, he is. get in.”

laughing, you climbed into the passenger seat as harry started the engine. “seatbelts on!” he cried, as though you weren’t right next to him and also the only other person in the car.

as harry drove the two of you to the local supermarket, you were surprised to find he was quite a good driver. then you realised you had made all these assumptions about what harry was like based on your first interactions, which made you feel guilty.

“you know,” you said to harry. “we kinda got off on the wrong foot but i really like you and i’m sorry for being so judgey before.”

“judgey isn’t a word.” harry corrected. “but i like you too. apology accepted.”

you smiled to yourself, content beside harry as you rolled down the window to let in some air. 

“y/n?” harry broke the silence after a few minutes. “can we talk about something?”

you nodded, mind racing. you knew he meant last night. the kiss. oh god.

“i punched that gabe guy ‘cos he was talking about you. in a disgusting way. bragging to his mates. i just wanted you to know that, even though you don’t seem mad anymore.” he confessed.

feeling guilty for your initial reaction, you said: “oh, harry. i’m sorry, i was a bitch. thank you for standing up for me.”

he shrugged it off and the silence resumed. eventually, harry pulled into the supermarket car park and the two of you got out. grabbing a trolley, harry pushed while you put the items in the trolley. 

harry kept jumping up and gliding the trolley across the floor, nearly crashing into things too many times. you felt like a mother shopping with her annoying son as you told him off for what felt like the hundredth time.

shopping took much longer than you had anticipated, mostly because of harry being a nuisance. the drive home was spent with harry loudly singing along to the radio while you laughed at him.

back at the flat, you disappeared into your room to do some work, still feeling guilty for lying to harry. 

you convinced yourself it was for the best, the two of you had a rough friendship as it was, this would just make things worse. but then again, you could've sworn you saw harry flinch when you said you didn't remember anything. did he want you to remember?

hours later, your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you had totally forgotten to eat. closing down your laptop, you headed for the kitchen. harry was sat on the sofa, his laptop resting on his legs. he had glasses on.

"i didn't know you wore glasses," you said. 

harry took them off, placing them on top of his head. "you weren't meant to."

you laughed. "well, i think they're cute. have you had dinner?"

harry shook his head.

"i know we went food shopping, but you wanna get a takeaway?" you asked.

"fuck yeah, i do."

#Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #fratboy!harry

[reginadaita]

La squadra random headcanons

Im back with a good old fashioned random head canon post! enjoy <3

Risotto:

this man secretly owns a stray cat. It doesn't live in the hideout but, stays in the small garden they have.

he likes it when prosciutto walks past him. The smell of his cologne reminds him of good old times.

He loves a juicy butt.

Sees his comrades sometimes as his sons.

Prosciutto:

owns a collection of handmade gun!s.

he is a pretty good photographer (his works include portraits of his colleagues, nature and fashion).

lactose intolerant

he has a flexible body

Illuso:

Formaggio cuts his hair or his s/o.

wakes up at 5 am just to finish his long morning routine.

dean Martin fan together with prosciutto.

loves butterflies

Formaggio:

laughs at every joke, even if they're bad.

very good at hugging

hosts partys together with melone

believes in SCPs.

Melone:

walks naked around the house (the other hitmen got used to it).

drags pesci with him to strip clubs or any kind of party, being scolded by prosciutto afterwards.

made risotto drink aceto with wine.

writes fake love letters to the hitmen (disappointing Formaggio every time).

Ghiaccio:

turns up when he hears Lil Jon.

wants to travel to space (so that he doesn't have to listen to formaggios crap).

starts with his rants sometimes at 3 am in the morning.

steals at the local supermarket.

Pesci:

the whole house is filled with memes of him

risotto trusts him the most when it comes to grocery shopping (he never forgets something or just buys alcohol cough* cough* melone)

he is pretty smart, only prosciutto really gives him a chance

collects shells

#la squadra headcanons #la squadra #jjba part 5 #vento aureo #jjba #la squadra blog

[nomorerww]

What was the most disappointing Christmas gift you saw someone get?

I get choked up telling this but I will. In 1987 I was 7 years old, my parents had divorced and my father paid my mother $20 a month for 3 kids. Now this was pretty pathetic already, but he had not paid her for 6 months. Anyhow my mother was struggling to make ends meet, we had very little food in the house and I did not know it at the time but my mum was starving so the food would last longer for us kids. Christmas day my father turns up and accuses my mother of being a drug addict (I assure you she's not) and told her I'm not paying cash anymore or she will spend it in drugs. He gave her a Christmas card and inside was 2 gift cards for the local supermarket totalling $200, he even said “Merry Christmas" to her as this was all the owed money and then some more. My mother did not care, she would have used $200 cash for food anyhow. She took what little she had in cash and used it to buy fuel for her car, we drove to the supermarket and loaded two trollies (1987 $200 went a long way) mum even purchased Froot Loops for us kids, it was a happy day…… Well until we got to the check out. The bill came to $199.90, mum presented the 2 gift cards, they were both declined. People stared at her, and the store accused her of stealing the gift cards, they told her to leave or they would call the police. People stared at us, and my mother left so embarrassed. My younger brother was 4, he was crying as the Froot Loops were taken from his hands.

What actually happened: My deadbeat father stole the gift cards from the store, however their is no money in them despite them saying $100 on each. You see if you want to purchase the card you need to take them to the counter and pay the face value, then the card is activated and can be used in the store. A few days later my mother collapsed from starvation, we had apple trees next door at the neighbours farm, we took some for my mother, she ate apples for 5 days straight. It gets worse however, when my father was confronted by my mother a big argument broke out, my father accused my mother of lying and then refused to pay her any child support for another 4 months as he had given her $200.

Over the course of 6 years my father paid a grand total of $60 for us 3 children. In 2002 when I was 22, out of sheer coincidence, I saw my father enter a bar. I sat next to him he pretended like nothing had happened, he offered to buy my drink I told him “I don't want anything from you" and paid for my own drink, the tension was so thick at this point. He started talking about how “that was the past and it's okay now.” I finished my drink, opened my wallet and pulled out $60. I sat it in the bar in front of him and said “that is everything I owe you, don't you ever f@cking contact me or my brother's again.” Then left the bar, I honestly have no idea where he is today, and I really do not care.

Update: Wow! 6500 upvotes, I don’t know what to think, or say. My heart hurts, I really had lost such faith in the human race, I just gave up and have not told this story for nearly 15 years thinking no one would actually care. To see this many upvotes is amazing, and the nice messages that people have left has really restored my faith in humanity. I thank all of you so much for this support. I'm going to see my mother in 3 months when she gets back from her holiday. I will definitely show her this post, and read her all the wonderful things people have said.

Update 21st March 2023: if this gets to 10,000 likes I think I will have a heart attack. My mother is doing really well for those who are wondering. Currently she is on holiday in Vietnam, and she is really enjoying herself. The Vietnamese are wonderful people, and they are treating her with such respect, they are always will to help her out.

Can everyone scroll down and please give Laura Dragon an upvotes. What her brother to her breaks my heart, I can only imagine the pain she must be feeling.

#jfc #men #fatherhood

[chaletnz]

Last Day in Peru

I started my day off with another smoothie bowl from Freshii and then walked to a nearby post office to buy some stamps and send postcards out before I head back home tonight. I found a department store that I went for a browse around but all of the clothes there fit very weirdly and the brands I knew were way overpriced. I enjoyed my final Peruvian coffee at Artidoro Rodriguez Cafeteria because it was the actual café for the coffee bags I had bought at the supermarket that smelled so good. The coffee was great, possibly the best one of the entire trip, so we ended on a high note! I bought some pizza rolls and drinks from the supermarket and spent most of the day resting in my room as my flight was overnight. Once I had packed up most of my bag and watched some Netflix I went out for a final dinner at La Lucha Sangucheria Criolla, the same place I had eaten at twice in Arequipa because (as advertised) the fries were the best in Peru. This time I went for the Pollo Deluxe but I took out the jamon (ham) so it was just shredded chicken and cheese, plus a serving of fries with the sauce variety and one last fresh pineapple juice. The sandwich came with an egg on it which was not listed on the menu so I had to slide that out but it was really good. I was stuffed after dinner and walked back to the hostel for a quick shower before meeting my ride to the airport. The driver was crazy and aggressive, he was driving erratically and constantly swerving between lanes trying to get ahead. He wouldn’t let anyone merge in front of him, honking at them when they indicated to move over basically telling them “no” and speeding up. It was then very amusing when we got stuck trying to merge into the traffic and people wouldn’t let him in so he started yelling and honking, just an absolute idiot driver. I was so glad to get out at the airport and see the back of him. I walked up to the main doors of the airport and the guards wouldn’t let me inside without me finding my boarding pass on my phone first. I thought “mate I am obviously a tourist, wearing a massive backpack, here for my flight. I’m not some scammy local trying to get inside and flog off my old shit to people or panhandle for loose change.” The self check in computer didn’t work so I was unfortunately forced to line up to check in my bag but it didn’t take too long and I was very early knowing how chaotic this airport was. I spent the last of my Peruvian soles on some little snacks and a sloth salt and pepper set that would be perfect for our apartment. I tried to buy a big bottle of water to take on the plane but they told me that I wouldn’t be allowed because there is another security check for passengers travelling to the USA and they will take any liquids over 100ml. Ridiculous as I had already been through a screening checkpoint so now I would spend the next several hours with only the tiny water bottles they provide on the plane. Once I arrived in New York’s JFK in the morning I wasn’t surprised to see the immigration queues were 60 minutes for tourists. As a permanent resident it was only 30 minutes but still felt like forever to get through and get my McDonald’s on the other side (they were sold out of hash browns and it was so disappointing). A short uneventful flight to Denver, some Panda Express, and a shuttle ride later and I was home to distribute all my little knick knack souvenirs to the house!

#Peru #Lima

[theretirementstory]

Greetings from a damp and drizzling Bar-sur-Aube, where the temperature is currently 6c.

This week I have been in full Christmas mode, I bought cards for my grandchildren as well as a Disney colour and sticker book for each of them, yes they have to be posted but I am sure they will enjoy working on them. Anyone who knows me well, knows that Christmas is not my favourite time of year but since moving to France I have taken an interest in baking Christmas cake and making my own mincemeat (above photo) for mince pies. I have made stuffed dates, peppermint creams, ginger biscuits and crunchies (biscuits my mum used to make) plus chutneys and even golden syrup! I have given (some) of these to friends for Christmas (which I think they have liked). I have also made my Christmas and New Years Day “special” by making myself a lovely meal which has about 4 or 5 courses and which I eat over 2-3 hours.

Anie came to see me on Sunday and brought some dried sunflower heads, she put them into the garden and all I had to do was wait for the birds to come to feast on them. I wasn’t disappointed there were mesange charbonniere (photo below) as well as what I call “spuggies” not all of which are sparrows.

As the cleaner had tested positive for Covid, I was left to my own devices all week. I dealt with my usual chores and on Friday I messaged her to see if she was feeling better, yes, she had tested negative so she will be coming on Monday 😊.

Pauline is back in town 😊, she has returned from Dublin and won’t be going back. She brought with her some lurgy so won’t be coming to visit until she is completely well. Having not seen Monique for over two weeks , she told me she had bronchitis. It is self diagnosed and she has been treating it with thyme 🤔 yes the herb, I think a visit to the doctor may have been a good idea (my thoughts only). I mentioned that I had made some English delicacies (didn’t quite know how to describe making mincemeat). She said oh can you send me the recipes…… well heck no! Translating ingredients and method not my idea of whiling away a good few hours of my time, maybe try google! Maud may come to visit this afternoon but as it looks as if the rain is set in for the day she may put it off. I wouldn’t be too bothered either way as beef is in the NEW slow cooker (oh no, just realised I haven’t used a liner for the pot, what a numpty) and it will be ready anytime I am ready.

It was the meeting of the knitting group on Friday and I had intended to call in, however, with Claudine telling me that one lady had been hospitalised with viral meningitis (I was going to take some fabric for her) I put it out of my head. I was just composing a message to Claudine when she messaged me, the lady was back from hospital and at the group. I almost threw my coat on and drove up then changed my mind. I will go for a short time on the 24th (I hope) if I am not too fatigued.

I have been buying new clothes, following the weight loss (almost 18kg), and have been fortunate to pick up some bargains along the way. Well the bargains have now extended beyond clothes and onto …… plants! Yes the local supermarket were selling a large chrysanthemum plant half price (I picked the one that looked the “freshest”) they also had a cyclamen with flowers that were so droopy I prayed that some water would revive it. Anyway, brought them home, stood them outside, gave them water and just left them. We had sunshine that day, plus it poured with rain during the night, what a difference that made to the cyclamen, the flowers were upright with more buds waiting to open the following morning. Not so the poinsettia that I had stored in a dark place through the summer. I really do not think that it will grow again, what a shame it was beautiful last year.

“The Daddy” and I are still working in tandem doing the Tesco order for my elderly relative who lives in London. I rang her yesterday and she had her list all ready. I will be inputting that as soon as possible.

Speaking of “The Daddy” he will called in to look after his daughter on Monday as it was a teacher training day at her school. They had a good time, then he went to collect his son from nursery, where he was told that his son had been “trouble” that day. My grandson told me he had pushed someone and poked another person in the eye, now not sure if these were “accidents” but when he related them to me he had an impish grin on his face 😉. The children are with Daddy this weekend and had a visit to York yesterday, to get new clothes. It’s not easy being a single parent coping with two children in busy streets but he does it. Mind you he said they had worn him out yesterday.

“The Trainee Solicitor” has (finally) prepared his course application for Uni, he had left it for his boss to sign and would then email it to the University. I am pleased he has got that sorted. He was left in charge for three days this week. He has dealt with a lot of work and it was noted and appreciated. Mind you it has left him very tired but he has still had time to read his books (a good form of relaxation).

“The Ex-Graduate” has also been trying to catch up on rest following her gruelling 40 odd hour working week the week before. Fortunately she had Thursday and Friday at home. She caught up with the housework, did the school run for her young sister on Friday and she too managed relaxation time with her book. They are busy deciding on a theme for Xmas decorations. I do believe it is just going to be small gifts this year as they are both busy saving. I know a nice holiday next year would be appreciated by both but there are other things that take precedence.

Having still not heard anything from the hospital about starting my next treatment, I rang again. The lady explained that I would receive a call after 13 November. I hope they give me more than one days notice!

Now to this weeks songs, for the first one we go right back to 1967 (wow I was still at junior school, the one that faces onto the Terry’s Chocolate Factory (ok so the chocolate factory is gone and the building is flats now but I can live in the past sometimes can’t I). It’s “The Letter” by the Box Tops. I have to say for the past 56 years I always believed that this group were black, what a surprise to ses a video and guess what they are all white!

The next song is “Night Games”, realised in 1981, by Skegness born Graham Bonnet. Bonnet was one of the duo “The Marbles” who had a hit with “Only One Woman” in 1968 the B side of which is “By the Light of the Burning Candle” another great song written by the Gibb brothers. Bonnet also was vocalist for Rainbow on songs such as “All Night Long” and “Since You Been Gone”.

Now it’s time to (perhaps) have a walk, prepare for a friends visit, do some knitting or none of the above 😂.

Have a good week until next week.

#nature #trees #photography #baking #60’s music #80’s music #livingthedream #barsuraube

[xevr]

Cake Thoughts

Trent Alexander Arnold x Andy Robertson.

cw(s): none

fluff, established relationship, and bathing together.

summary/based on: andy does the impulsive thoughts trend on his beloved scouser, trent + andy being a complete softie.

• tt link: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR7e7DRf/

Andy, scrolling on TikTok finding a video where a husband and wife are cutting a cake but instead of the wife cutting it aswell she smashes her fists into.

Andy chuckles to himself after viewing the clip. He grinned, he got his coat from his coat rack and made sure he got a beanie for his head; knowing trent would be disappointed that he didn't cover himself up more in the cold.

"TRENTTT, IM GOING TO THE STORE."  Andy squawked

After his trip to his local supermarket he bought a cake, he set it up on the kitchen island so he could go approach trent.

"Hello trentski" Andy walked in on trent on his phone; he immediately put it away after Andy greeted him.

That's Andy loved about his scouser, he'd give him all the attention the world.

Andy plopped himself onto the bed face-foward, peaking one eye open at trent; having a disconcerted look on his face.

"Y'alright?" Trent asked soothly

"S'course I am." Andy propped himself on his hand laying sideways.

"Want to cut a cake with me?" Andy questioned

"Cake, at 8 am? Whats the special occasion?" Trent asked tenderly, kneading the back of andy's nape.

"Nothing the occasion, Jus' wanna spend more time wit'ya." Andy stated hoping he'd buy the act.

Trent chuckled flashing a set of white teeth,  "If you wanted to spend more time wit' me you could've asked. I would've happily obliged. Anything for you."

"Yeah, I know I just want to do something active. Y'know?" Andy said almost losing himself to trents' addictive smile.

Andy hoisted himself up off the bed asking Trent to follow him towards their kitchen.

Andy removed the plastic cover on the cake while he asked for trent to get a knife. 

"Why is there camera filming us?" Trent asked obliviously.

"Want to capture this moment, is why" andy gave him a inviting smile.

Trent shrugged it off and began cutting the cake.

Andy lifted his fist and pounded it into the cake making it splatter across the island countertop.

Trent was startled by his action, Andy seized the cake with his already caked-up fist and threw the piece onto trent's face.

Coming out of his minor trance, Trent grabbed a corner piece and smothered it on andys face, bursting out in laughter.

"You little prick! I should've known you would've had something like this in mind."

"You know you love me"

"I do."

They both looked around their surroundings see the kitchen a mess. They both agreed to clean it up together.

"Erm, well we've established that. Let's go take bath together." Trent asks holding a hand out for Andy.

Andy let himself be dragged by trent. The way trent seized his hand gently, he truly was a sucker for this man.

They reached their bedroom, and began undressing, trent got undressed first and ran the bath with a lukewarm temperature

He felt a hand on his lower hip, trent entered the bathtub carefully; encouraging Andy to come in with him too.

Andy stepped into the bathtub and was cuddled by a warm embrace. He sank into his partners' warmth.

He slowly felt himself drifting off until a felt a slight nub on his shoulder that kept increasing by the second.

"Andy, you can't just sleep in the bathtub." Trent stated lifting the scotsman up before he drowns himself.

He turned andy around to face and and began washing himself and andy.

After the bath he and Andy went to bed, deciding to not sleep with anything on except trousers.

Trent lifted the duvet inviting andy in, Andy made himself comfortable; head resting on the others shoulder. 

Arms, tight around him keeping andy in place.

"Love you." Trent said in andys' hair

Andy yawned, "Love you too."

They both fell asleep. Taking in each other's embrace.

*extra*

scotsman sent 1 item to Liverpool FC: The Bois group chat

the dijk 12:09 pm

Trents face 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

cap'n hendo 12:12 pm

heavy on the emojis virg.

joey g 12:15 pm

I'm guessing that was a nice experience @scouser66

scouser66 12:16 pm

No, I got cake in my nose. Nice? More like traumatizing.

scotsman 12:17 pm

He's lying. He loved it.

the dijk 12:20 pm

I want to play a prank on Jordan.

cap'n hendo 12:21 pm

Don't give him any ideas, this goes for everyone.

j milly 12:25 pm

Virgil check your DMs 😁

cap'n hendo 12:26 pm

JAMES!

joel m 12:30 pm

@the dijk send me the videos if you happen to do one.

the dijk replied to joel m: @the dijk send me the vid....

👍🏽

mo salad 12:32

Me too please 😁

#trent alexander arnold #andy robertson #liverpool fc #trentxandy #firstfic #xevr #yes the mo salad was intentional. #they'repracticallysoulmates

[my-mt-heart]

A mishmash of things here...

Congratulations on a successful first event!

Movements don't work without the less vocal participants, who do their part in the periphery, without expectation of applause or acknowledgment, so I want to take a moment to recognize them. You fight like Carol, and you should know that what you personally contribute has importance. It's vital to success, and like a number of people have highlighted already, this is about more than a 'ship. It's about equal rights, consumer rights, workers rights and just plain old human decency. Good job, everybody, and keep up the pressure!

People in other countries should take a moment to contact their streaming providers as well. Just like writing to sponsors, voice your concerns that they choose to license shows from unethical companies. This might be particularly effective in Europe where consumer laws are much stronger than in the US. (Well, most laws protecting privacy and the little guy are better in the EU.) Also, find local (non-US) news outlets who might write something. Particularly in markets where English isn't widely spoken, or where media tends to be dubbed.

I think we tend to have expectations on people we admire and we are not privy to the finer details of what's going on in someone else's life. AMC probably has a pretty tight hold on NR and regardless of what he thinks/does/says, he is not the person who controls this situation. AMC is. If you're angry or disappointed, it's perfectly valid to feel that way, but maybe not hurl it out there at the world? Talk to a friend, your pastor, therapist, random person in line at the supermarket to release pressure and then be the change you want to see.

This is supposed to be a Mel-positive campaign and she isn't the kind to tear anyone down. You're doing this for her, in her name, so be kind to each other and to strangers.

Thank you! Totally agree and great ideas for our international friends!

#caryl #caryl deserved better #carol deserved better #angela kang deserved better #lookattheflowersamc #darylneedscarol #weaintashescollective

[charlesandmartine]

Saturday 25th February 2023

We Outbackers wouldn't normally enlist for a Motel, but other accommodation in these rather rural locations is hard to find. At least we haven't pursued the outback theme as far as backpacking in a hostel! As far as motels go, this is extremely comfortable, quiet, modern and thankfully, empty, but also one of many motels in Roma. Modern day Roma is a bustling town at the northern end of the Murray Darling Basin. It is a meeting point for the farming industry with a cattle saleyard, sales and maintenance of heavy farm equipment, supplies and services. It is also very much an oasis for refuelling and stopovers on long journeys across the outback. It was first named in 1867 after the wife of the Governor of Queensland, Lady Diamantina Bowen (née di Roma). In 1863 Samuel Bassett brought the first vines to Roma and formed the Romavilla Winery in 1866. Roma's next claim to fame came in 1900 when due to a drought a bore was drilled to 1350 feet and water and natural gas gushed out. Sadly at the time it was not known how to separate them. By 1906 they had sunk a second well to the gas strata and started a commercial gas supply business. However, things don't always go the way you want as 10 days after the first customer was connected, the gas ran out. Not to be defeated, 2 years later the Roma Mineral Oil Company drilled deeper and hit natural gas which unfortunately blew across in the direction of a wood burning steam boiler. You couldn't make this up could you? Flames were 100ft high and the roar could be heard 7 miles away and it took a fair bit of putting out by all accounts. The next well in 1927 produced oil but they ceased production in 1931. Hmm. Good news eventually, despite the setbacks - these were determined people, and natural gas was finally piped 440km to Brisbane and used until 1969.

Out of 10 things to do in Roma, 5 were not open so we did what we could. Number 1, the Roma Bush Gardens. Very nice and also informative about local trees and shrubs. Number 2, the Walk of Hero's. This was an avenue of bottle trees planted, one for each local soldier killed in WWI. 140 in all and very poignant. Each tree had a commemorative plaque. Number 3, the largest bottle tree in Roma. Vital statistics: girth 9.62m, height 15m, canopy 23m, age 100 years. Very impressive. Number 4, the Big Rig that tells the story of oil and gas, see above. Number 5, various sculptures around town. Disappointments: The museum at the ,'Up the Creek Garage' was shut for upgrades. So was St Paul's shut so couldn't see the stained glass windows. We had missed the film night at the Big Rig and no cattle sales on at the saleyard. With all that excitement we went to Woolworths for some provisions.

With our trackers hats on we set off for the cricket ground a couple of hundred metres down the Warrego Highway in search of the evasive kangaroo. Now we are well aversed of the penchant the species have for golf courses, but we wondered whether evolution had moved them onto a liking for cricket pitches. It would appear this hypothesis was correct because there they were in deep fielding position. About 20 of them. They could see us and were extremely wary of our presence. Sunset seems to come suddenly. 6.20 and it's quite light and by 7pm completely dark. I guess that's the point at which they find something else to do.

Tomorrow we have a fairly short journey to the cattle station we shall be staying at. We shall be a little way from a food supermarket so a trip to Woolworths is essential before starting off plus petrol fill up.

ps TV advert tonight is for 120 bulls for sale. We are picking up Alice Springs TV now.

[moorejosie]

STATS.

name: josiah ❝ jo / josie ❞ barnabas moore gender & pronouns: cis male + he / him orientation: demiromantic pansexual age: twenty-nine date of birth: 19 august, 1993 zodiac: ☼  leo - virgo cusp   ☽  scorpio   ↑  gemini occupation: park ranger + wilderness guide positive traits: charismatic + resourceful + intelligent + engaging + hard-working negative traits: flighty + narcissistic + sarcastic + blunt + secretive

BIOGRAPHY.

TW : domestic violence, abandonment, cancer, chronic illness, drugs, death, alcohol

Josiah Barnabas Moore — or Jo, to most, and Josie only if you know him well — was born the youngest of four in a small trailer just a stone’s throw from Fort Payne, Alabama to Laurel and Oliver Moore. They didn’t have very much growing up; his father worked full-time at a struggling hardware store in town, and his mother sold her paintings and handmade jewelry at local markets and fairs when she could to supplement their income, but it was still incredibly difficult to feed and clothe and house a family of six. Their trailer was small, cramped, the siblings nearly sleeping on top of each other as they grew older and rooms had to be shared and sofas had to be converted into beds. The Moore siblings were close, though; they had to be. Laurel and Oliver had a tumultuous marriage, to say the least, and the paper-thin walls of their trailer did very little to muffle shouting matches at all hours of the day and night. His older siblings did their best to shield Josie from the worst of it when he was young, and as a result, they’d often spend much of their time outdoors, exploring the woods surrounding their trailer. He grew up scraping his knees falling out of trees and wading through muddy river water to catch tadpoles in old jam jars. Nature quickly became a safe space, a haven for him away from the chaos of home.

He was thirteen years old when his parents separated. And okay, that’s a nice way of saying his dad just packed up one day and decided to get the hell out of dodge, taking half of Josiah’s siblings with him. With the eldest remaining sibling away at college, Jo and his mother were left alone in a trailer that suddenly felt very spacious to figure out how to fend for themselves. Laurel picked up an overnight job at the gas station about a mile up the road, and by the time he was sixteen, Jo was stocking shelves at the local supermarket when he wasn’t at school — Mama Moore insisted he keep his grades up, it was the only way she’d allow him to keep the job, in spite of the great burden his added income relieved of her. She never wanted to ask her son for help, but he was ready to offer it the moment he could. Everyone else might have left, but Jo wasn’t going anywhere.

In his senior year of high school, Jo was offered a full-ride academic scholarship to the University of Alabama, but he chose to decline the acceptance in favor of classes at the nearest community college so he wouldn’t have to leave home or make an impossible commute five days a week to try and make it work. He didn’t even tell his mother that he’d been accepted, and he tried to act like he couldn’t see the disappointment in her eyes when he told her where he’d be going instead. But she encouraged him all the same, and he graduated with a degree in environmental science all while balancing a full-time job at the supermarket. After graduating, she suggested he try finding a job in the field, and after a few months of trying, he secured a position at Little River Canyon National Reserve. It was about a half hour drive from the trailer, but the pay was good and the benefits even better, and for the first time, he actually felt like they weren’t struggling to get by. He felt relieved. Secure, even. He was happy.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end — a concept with which Josiah is all too familiar. He was twenty-five when Mama Moore was diagnosed with an aggressive and advanced form of breast cancer. For two and a half years, any time he didn’t spend working was spent by her side; taking her to appointments, sitting with her through chemotherapy sessions, teaching himself how to cook so he could make anything she wanted and might be able to stomach. In spite of how dangerous it was and how much of a risk it posed to everything he had, being employed by the government in a state like Alabama, Jo put his botany knowledge to good use and learned how to grow marijuana because he’d heard it helped with the side effects of treatment. He hid it well inside of their trailer, opting to sleep on the couch in order to convert their second room into a space to grow his plants for her, and he very, very rarely indulged with her, insisting that it was strictly medicinal and he couldn’t get caught with it, especially if he got tested at work. He’d lose his job and their insurance, and they’d be even more under water than they already were. ( Not that Jo would ever let her know that; he’d taken on the finances from the time he got his job with the National Reserve, and he’d be damned if he’d let her think for a moment they were struggling. ) They never did get caught, and once she'd moved onto stronger forms of pain relief in hospice care, he got rid of the plants and cleared out the room he'd used for growing.

Once he realized they were nearing the devastating but inevitable end of his mother's long and exhausting battle, Jo wrote letters to his father and all of his siblings inviting them to show up to say their goodbyes. His father never showed up, and much like the first time when he’d left, Jo was left to try and figure things out on his own. There was a small, modest service held for her, and per her request, she was buried in a shady spot under a willow tree. It felt surreal, coming back to the trailer alone, and it took several weeks for Jo to find it in himself to begin to pack up her belongings. He took an indefinite leave of absence from his job and spent many nights seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle as he struggled to swallow the loss of his guardian, teacher, and best friend all in one. He knew he needed a change, that the amount of hurt contained in the peeling wallpaper of that shitty little trailer outside of Fort Payne was too much to continue to bear, to make himself bear. Not when he didn’t have to.

After his mother passed, Josiah decided there was nothing more keeping him in Alabama and nothing left for him there but memories, so after an extended period of isolated grieving, he promptly made the choice to pack up in search of a change of scenery. Something new. An online search of jobs in national parks with zero distance restrictions led him to a listing for an available position as a park ranger at Rocky Mountain National Park near Bradford Springs. Colorado. It was a far sight from where he’d spent most of his life, but still promised the familiarity of mountain views and fresh air the likes of which would serve as reminder enough of home to keep him from growing heartsick for it. The entirety of his life fit into a few bags and boxes in the back of a beige Jeep Wrangler from the turn of the millennium, and with the aid of a bunch of old CDs and a handful of maps picked up at rest stops along the way, Jo made the thirteen-hundred mile drive all the way from Fort Payne to Bradford Springs over the course of two days and one night spent trying to catch a few hours of sleep in a rest stop on the state line between Missouri and Kansas.

Jo acclimated very quickly to his job at Rocky Mountain National Park after a few weeks spent studying the local flora and fauna. His efforts were expedited by his choice in domicile — a cabin out in the woods, only a short walk from the ranger station outfitted with the basic amenities thanks to solar panels and a well that he outfitted with a submersible pump and a supply line to the cabin. Being in close proximity to the ranger station gives him internet access, so he’s not entirely off the grid, but almost everything else about his lifestyle would suggest otherwise. Once he was familiar enough with the area, Jo took on the task of leading guided tours on hikes through the trails, taking tourists through scenic mountain and river paths to explore the natural views and wildlife. He loves his job, for the most part — he’s of the belief that people, generally speaking and on the whole, suck, and he’d much rather spend all his time in the company of the animals and trees, but he’s cultivated a skill for turning on the charm and enthusiasm for his job, if only because it’s a cost well worth the reward.

EXTRAS.

Only a few short weeks after settling into his cabin, Jo was walking home one night when he discovered a wounded baby raccoon abandoned in the brush. Unable to bring himself to leave it there to be a meal for any of the other predators lurking in the woods, the ranger took the animal back to his cabin until he could get it to an emergency vet, and after it was treated for the severest of its’ injuries, Jo brought the raccoon back home to nurse him back to health. He’d never bottle-fed anything before, let alone a raccoon, but he developed a very strong bond with the animal over its first few weeks in the cabin, and it wasn’t long before Jo realized he’d end up having a permanent home there. Meeko’s been living with Jo for over a year now, and in that time, Jo’s learned that he has to child-proof every drawer and cabinet in his home to keep the mischievous raccoons wandering hands out of his things. 

Jo is promiscuous and unashamedly so. ( As for if he’ll admit that he uses this as a blatant distraction from feeling anything too real is still up for debate. ) Whether it be flirting with the most attractive park visitors that sign up for his hikes through Rocky Mountain and inviting them back to his cabin for a night of roughing it out in the woods ( a frequent pastime of his ) or his trips into town to hit up the dive bars and clubs and drink and dance and charm his way into the hearts and pants of strangers, locals and tourists alike, Jo is wont to seek out fleeting intimate connections. He’s not one for commitment, not beyond a handful of recurring, no-strings-attached situations, and he’s also not selective when it comes to gender. He just likes people. He’s wondered more than once on Uber rides back to his cabin if some of his successful flirtations have suspected him some sort of kidnapper, serial killer for his cabin out in the woods, but it’s not hard to fall in love with the place once you’ve seen it and understand why Jo would live there.

WANTED CONNECTIONS + MORE TBA.

#bsco.intro #☼ about jo #this was rushed but what else do you expect when i bring in a new muse the night before an event alksdhasd

[veilchenjaeger]

Imagine your favourite kind of sweet thing is chocolate. Your not really into any other kinds of sweets, they taste kind of bland to you, but you love chocolate. Your favourite kind is milk chocolate, and you generally like chocolate cake better than, say, chocolate ice cream. But chocolate is chocolate, and every kind is good for you.

Now, imagine you live in a world where sweets have an extremely bad reputation. Because they're bad for your health or something, fill in the worldbuilding yourself. Until not too long ago, all kinds of sweets were straight-up banned. It was like prohibition-era America. People were trading sweets in private bars. Some people dared to introduce sweet things to the public, but were only able to do so by giving them a salty aftertaste. It was a wild time.

Sweets have been unbanned for a while by now, but they're still extremely hard to find. You can't just go to a supermarket and get chocolate. Very few retailers dare to sell sweets out of fear of the possible backlash of health-nut mums on Twitter.

But you love chocolate, so you join an international semi-unofficial club of sweets lovers who invent their own recipes, make their own sweets, and share them with people all over the world. It's an extremely cool movement and you're very excited to be a part of it. You suddenly have access to a lot of different kinds of sweets, and you can even choose between cake and ice cream and candy and don't have to settle for whatever you can find at your tiny local sweets-friendly shop.

There's just one issue: very few people in this club are interested in chocolate. Some post snippets of chocolate recipes sometimes, but they're missing crucial parts, and there's never a follow-up. A lot of people claim they like chocolate, or even complain about there not being enough chocolate products, but most of the time, talking about it is all they do. Even cocoa itself is rarely discussed or handed out, and it's hard to find information on it, although info posts about different kinds of basic ingredients are a common thing in this club.

Most people are into different kinds of sweets and focus their energies on those. And boi do they focus them. There are sweets being created that you've never seen before. Five-tiered cakes and sugar-painted biscuits and huge, elaborate bowls of ice cream with cherries on top.

The recipes that come out of that are incredible, and you do enjoy them, but in the end, you still aren't into anything but chocolate. Eating sweet things more regularly is nice, but you don't get the same enjoyment out of them as someone who actually likes the basic ingredients.

So you start consuming every kind of chocolate the club has to offer. You're not a fan of ice cream, but you eat it anyways because it's been ages since you got to taste chocolate. Some recipes are straight-up bad, or leave a weird taste in your mouth, but you eat whatever you're offered. You're disappointed every time, but you learn not to be picky. Once in a blue moon, you find someone baking a chocolate cake, and though it's often made with bitter or white chocolate, you're grateful for that. The first time someone gives you a piece of milk chocolate cake, you almost cry. You've only eaten that once or twice in your life, and it tastes amazing.

Without this club, you likely never would have gotten to eat this cake. You might not have gotten to eat chocolate cake for years. So you're glad you joined. But sometimes, you can't help but look at all the people sharing their favourite recipes of five-tiered cakes made with their favourite sweets and think to yourself that you've never seen a five-tier chocolate cake before. You don't think you have the right to be jealous or angry - not everyone enjoys chocolate as much as you do, and that's in their right - but it does make your heart sink that in this one space that loves sweets, you still can't find what you've been looking for your whole life.

That's what I feel like as a lesbian in fandom.

(Trans women are chocolate.)

#[talk less smile more] #/i decided on one thing to bitch about today to let my soul rest #/'bitch' in quotation marks bc i'm sure still being nice here #/oh this is ok to rb btw if that's something you feel like doing. it's not a psa kinda post or anything but i don't mind people reblogging.