#Ireland's Comfort Food

[tkhuluq]

Irish Boxty: Crafting Authentic Potato Pancakes for a Taste of Tradition

Start a cooking trip to the heart of Ireland with the classic as well as precious recipe, Irish Boxty. In this assist, we will look into the art of developing standard potato pancakes, using you a preference of Irish heritage that's both hearty as well as gratifying. Sign up with us as we unwind the keys to crafting the best Boxty that pays homage to this valued Irish cooking practice.

Area 1: A Look right into Irish Cooking Heritage

Submerse on your own in the abundant cooking heritage of Ireland as we discover the beginnings of Boxty. This famous recipe, renowned for its simpleness as well as heartiness, is a staple in Irish cooking areas for generations, personifying the significance of convenience food.

Area 2: Crucial Active ingredients

Uncover the crucial active ingredients that bring credibility in your Irish Boxty. From floury potatoes to all-round flour as well as buttermilk, each part plays an important duty in attaining the best stabilize of appearance as well as taste. Reveal the magic that changes modest active ingredients right into a mouthwatering Irish joy.

Area 3: Grating Strategies for Perfect Appearance

Understand the art of grating potatoes to attain the perfect Boxty appearance. Discover the value of harmonizing the starch content, as well as find out the best ways to mix grated potatoes effortlessly with flour as well as buttermilk. This careful procedure makes sure a pancake that's both crunchy outside as well as tender on the in.

Area 4: Delicious Variants

Boost your Boxty experience by discovering delicious variants. From timeless dishes to those including natural herbs, onions, or also cheese, uncover the best ways to instill your potato pancakes with a ruptured of added preference while keeping the dish's genuine beauty.

Area 5: Food preparation Strategies

Reveal the keys to improving the food preparation strategies that generate gold, crunchy Boxty. Whether you like pan-frying or cooking, we will assist you via the actions to attain that ultimate Irish pancake that sets well with a selection of toppings.

Area 6: Offering Ideas

Indulge in the adaptability of Irish Boxty with imaginative offering ideas. From a passionate morning meal accompaniment to a side recipe for stews as well as soups, this standard potato pancake could be took pleasure in in numerous cooking contexts. Release your creative thinking in offering this Irish timeless.

Verdict:

Finally, understanding the art of crafting Irish Boxty permits you to bring the heat of Ireland's cooking heritage in your table. With its modest yet delicious active ingredients as well as functional applications, Boxty isn't simply a pancake; it is a party of practice as well as preference. Dive right into the heart of Irish food preparation with our detailed assist as well as relish the happiness of developing this precious recipe in your personal cooking area.

Tags : Irish Boxty, Traditional Potato Pancakes, Irish Culinary Heritage

[irishmeadows]

Spiced Irish Oatmeal With Cream and Crunchy Sugar

[sakizm]

i just bought myself some cookbooks and i can’t wait to try some recipes!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Treat You Better III

Laia Codina x Reader

Summary: You visit Spain

The language barrier posed a bit of a problem but you could get past that.

The food posed a bit of a problem but you could get past that too.

What you couldn't get past was the topless sunbathing.

You weren't prudish by any means. But you were Irish and the beaches you usually went to in Ireland were full of pebbles. You didn't sunbathe in Ireland. You just hoped that you didn't get taken out by a wave.

Spanish beaches were different though. They were sandy and the sea was calm and all of Laia's friends were stripping off their bikini tops and lying out in the sun.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline at how easily everyone did it. You hadn't experienced much cultural issues moving from Ireland to England but now you were getting the experience that Laia did.

Moving from Spain to England was a big thing, full of cultural differences that she had to adapt too. Now you're doing the same.

You didn't know the rules surrounding this so you just decided to avert your eyes and pretend that it wasn't happening.

You sat under an umbrella and contemplated whether it was rude to just duck into a shop and stay there until everyone was ready to go.

"You aren't sunbathing?"

"I'm Irish, luv," You say," I don't tan well. I burn."

"Katie tans."

"Yeah, she got lucky. I didn't."

Laia wiggles under the umbrella with you. She's shirtless just like her friends but you don't feel awkward looking at her. You've seen her naked countless times. Seeing her topless seems a little tame in comparison.

Seeing her friends and other world class footballers shirtless was a little different.

"You don't tan at all?" She pouts at you," I could have sworn you did in Australia."

"You were watching me back then?" You laugh," You little stalker."

Her cheeks turn pink. "I thought you were very pretty. It is a shame you won't try to tan here."

"I'll burn," You insist," And we'll go back to London and Katie will tease me. I'm not attempting it."

"But you tan! I know you do! I've seen it!"

"It's too much effort," You say nonchalantly," I'm happy here. I might go and buy an ice cream. I'm fine, luv."

She looks at you suspiciously, her pout getting bigger and bigger the more you attempt to get away.

"Leave her alone, Codi!" You hear someone yell, Mariona you think.

"I'm just wearing her down!" Laia yells back with a teasing smile," Don't ruin this for me!"

"Ruin this for you?" You echo," I see how it is. You want to see me topless."

She tries to deny it but her stuttered words betray her true attention.

"You're cute, luv, but no, I'm not stripping in front of your friends."

"Why not? You're not insecure are you?" Her words come out in a stream, interspersed with random kisses pressed to your face. "Because you're so beautiful and you're stunning and I think you're so much prettier than all of my friends and you shouldn't feel insecure about something like this."

"Laia-"

"Because you have nothing to feel insecure about. And I love you and-"

"Laia-"

"You should never feel bad about your body and-"

"Laia! Luv, shut up. I'm not insecure. I know I have a good body but...These are your friends and they're topless."

Laia frowns. "I don't understand."

You laugh. "It'd be like if we went to the beach with Katie and Caitlin and they whipped their tops off. You would feel a little awkward, wouldn't you?"

You can see Laia think it over for a moment. She turns it over in her mind. You can see the moment she imagines Katie topless because her eyes suddenly squeeze shut.

"I see," She admits," But you promise you do not feel insecure?"

"I promise," You say, laying a kiss on her lips," Just feeling a little awkward. I'm sure after a few more trips I'll feel more comfortable."

She beams. "You want to come back?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, Laia. This is your home. These are your friends. Of course, I want to come back."

She attacks you with kisses, pinning you against your beach towel.

"Codi!" One of her friends call," Stop kissing your girlfriend! I want to go paddle boarding!"

"Go, luv," You laugh, pushing her away," We have lots of time later."

[petermorwood]

Food on St Patrick's Day (in the USA)...

...is usually Corned Beef & Cabbage, which is the Irish-American version of the original Irish boiled bacon & cabbage, but while the celebratory Irishness is still going strong, try something a bit more authentic.

A nice warm coddle. Not cuddle, coddle, though just as comforting in its own way. (Some sources suggest it's a hangover cure, not that such a thing would ever be necessary at this time of year, oh dear me no.)

Coddle is a stew using potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, stout-if-desired / stock-if-not, pepper, sage, thyme and Time.

You'll often see it called "Dublin Coddle", but my Mum made Lisburn Coddle lots of times, I've made West Wicklow Coddle more than once, and on one occasion in a Belgian holiday apartment I made Brugsekoddel, which is an OK spelling for something that doesn't exist in any cookbook.

*****

I do remember one amendment I made to Mum's recipe, which met with slight resistance at the time and great appreciation thereafter.

Her coddle was originally cooked on the stove-top, not in the oven, and nothing was pre-cooked. Potatoes were quartered, onions were sliced, bacon was cut into chunks and then everything went into the big iron casserole, then onto the slow back ring, and there it simmered Until Done.

However, the bacon was thick-cut back rashers, and the sausages were pork chipolatas.

Raw, they looked like this:

...and the bacon looked like this:

Cooked in the way Mum initially did, they looked pretty much the same afterwards. The sausages didn't change colour. Nor did the bacon.

While everything tasted fine, the meat parts always looked - to me, anyway - somewhat ... less than appealing. "Surgical appliance pink" is the kindest way to put it, and that's all I'm saying. This is apparently "white coddle" and Dubs can get quite defensive about This Is The Way It SHOULD Look.

I'm not a Dub, so I persuaded Mum to fry both the bacon and sausages first, just enough to get a bit of brown on, and wow! Improvement! I remember my Dad nodding in approval but - because he was Wise - not saying anything aloud until Mum gave it the green light as well.

Doing the coddle in the oven, first with lid on then with lid off, came later and met with equal approval. So did using only half of the onion raw and frying the other half lightly golden in the bacon fat.

Nobody quoted from a movie that wouldn't be made for another decade, but there was a definite feeling of...

*****

There are coddle recipes all over the Net: I've made sure that these are from Ireland to avoid the corned-beef-not-boiled-bacon "adjustment" versions which are definitely out there. I've already seen one with Bratwurst. Just wait, it'll be chorizo next.

Oh, hell's teeth, I was right. And from RTE...

Returning to relative normality, here's Donal Skehan's white coddle and his browned coddle with barley (I'm going to try that one).

Here's Dairina Allen's Frenchified with US measurements version. (I feel considerably less heretical now.)

And finally (OK, not Irish, but it references a couple of the previous ones and is a VERY comprehensive write-up, so gets a pass) Felicity Cloake's Perfect Dublin Coddle (perfect according to who, exactly...?) in The Guardian.

*****

Returning to the beginning, and how boiled bacon became corned beef (a question which prompted @dduane to start an entire website...!)

The traditional Irish meat animal for those who could afford it was the pig, but when Irish immigrants (even before the Great Famine) arrived in the USA, they often lived in the same urban districts as Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.

For fairly obvious reasons pork, bacon and other piggy products were unavailable in those districts, but salt beef was right there and far cheaper than any meat Irish immigrants had ever seen before.

Insist on tradition or eat what was easy to find? There'd have been contest - and do I sometimes wonder a bit if sauerkraut ever came close to replacing cabbage for the same reason.

The pre-Famine Irish palate liked sour tastes: a German (?) visitor to Ireland in the mid-1600s wrote about about what were called "the best-favoured peasantry in Europe", and mentioned that they had "seventy-several sour milks and creams*, and the sourer they be, the better they like them."

* Yogurt? Kefir? Skyr? Gosh...

Corned beef and Kraut as the immigrants' celebratory "Irish" meal for St Patrick's Day? Maybe, maybe not.

Time for "Immigrant Song" (with kittens).

*****

Corned beef got its name from the size of the salt grains with which the beef was prepared. They were usually bigger than kosher salt, like pinhead oats or even as large as grains of wheat, and their name derived originally from "corned (gun)powder", the large coarse grains used in cannon.

BTW, "corn" has been a generic English term for "grain" for centuries, and "but Europe didn't have corn" is an American mistake assuming the word refers to sweetcorn / maize, which it doesn't.

Lindsey Davis, author of the "Falco" series, had a couple of rants about it and other US-requested "corrections". As she points out, mistakes need corrected but "corn" is not a mistake, just a difference in vocabulary.

*****

In Ancient and Medieval Ireland pig would have included wild boar, the hunting of which was a suitable pastime for warriors and heroes, because Mr Boar took a very dim view of the whole proceeding and wasn't shy about showing it (see "wild boar" in my tags and learn more).

Cattle were for milk, butter, cream and little cattle; also wealth, status, and heroic displays in their theft, defence or recovery. It's no accident that THE great Irish epic is "The Cattle-Raid of Cooley" / Táin Bó Cúailnge (tawn / toyn boh cool-nyah).

Killing a cow for meat was ostentation on a level of lighting cigars with 100-, or even 500-, currency-unit notes. Once it had been cooked and eaten there'd be no more milk, butter, cream or little cattle from that source, so eating beef was showing off And Then Some.

Also, loaning a prize bull to run with someone else's heifers was a sign of great friendship or alliance, while refusing it might be an excuse for enmity or even war. IMO that's what Maeve of Connaught intended all along, picking undiplomatic envoys who would get drunk and shoot their mouths off so the loan was refused and she, insulted, would have an excuse to...

But I digress, as usual. Or again. Or still... :->

*****

For the most part, "pig" mean "domestic porker", and in later periods right up to the Famine, these animals were seldom eaten.

Instead, known as "the gentleman who pays the rent", the family pig ate kitchen scraps and rooted about for other foods, none of which the tenant had to grow or buy for them. These fattened pigs would go to market twice a year, and the money from their sale would literally pay that half-year's rent.

For wealthier (less poor?) farmers, pigs had another advantage. Calves arrived singly, lambs might be a pair, but piglets popped out by the dozen. A sow with (some of) her farrow was even commemorated on the old ha'penny coin...

What with bulls, chickens, hares, horses, hounds, pigs, salmon and stags, the pre-decimal Irish coinage is a good inspiration for some sort of fantasy currency.

But that's another post, for another day.

[nevergonnaloveagain-hey]

Hozier Dating Headcannons

He would definitely love to date someone who is more of an old soul, someone who loves older literature or music 

Expect regular serenades after he writes songs about you and personal concerts when you ask to hear a certain song. These moments would probably be very intimate and would just happen in the comfort of your home together.

You would be the first to hear any new ideas he has for his music and would read you his lyrics, asking you what you think he should change. And of course, you can’t think of anything that could make it any better since it is already so beautiful which infuriates him to no end (he loves you tho)

He seems like the kind of partner to go all out for anniversaries or birthdays and would set up really special dates and surprise outings, always making sure that you are comfortable and having fun. He would probably take you to secluded places surrounded by nature where you can just enjoy each other's company with no one else around.

He would hand write you beautiful letters especially when he is going away on tour or if he is going to be having a late night in the studio and won’t see you for a while

He values his privacy and would most likely keep your relationship lowkey and private. He wouldn’t hide you and wouldn’t hesitate to talk about you a little every now and then but he also wouldn’t tell everyone too much about your relationship, he likes to keep certain things to himself.

He would support you in everything that you do, whether it’s just a project that you have taken up or if it is something for work, he would be right behind you at all times cheering you on. If you start to doubt yourself, he would be the one to tell you how well you are doing and would motivate you 

He has a lot of appreciation for you especially since he knows it can be difficult to be with him when he is really focused on his music or if he is touring. So he would always express how thankful he is that you are there for him, even during tough times.

Considering his love for art and literature, he would love to take you on little museum or gallery dates and would definitely tell you the backstory of certain pieces if you seemed interested. He would also take note of the kind of books, poems or art you like and would give you unique gifts inspired by this.

Despite his fame, he is very grounded and values his private time and time with family, so he would love a partner who listens and values your opinions and alone time together. He would love to see you with his family and is in love with how much his parents and friends adore you.

If you’re not Irish, he would love to introduce you to certain foods or traditions from Ireland. He is always really excited to see your reaction to trying Irish snacks/drinks and remembers what you like or dislike

He is a big ‘I remember you said you like this, so i got it for you’ partner. He remembers everything about you, from your favourite food to your favourite songs or movies and even your favourite piece of jewelry

He is a very emotional guy and at first he struggles to open up to you but as your relationship grows, he becomes more comfortable being himself around you and knows you would never judge him just like how he would never judge you. Once he becomes fully comfortable with you, there is not one thing he wouldn't tell you and never hides anything from you. He trusts you with everything.

As I said he is a very private guy, so he wouldn’t be a big fan of PDA but as your relationship goes on, he will start to be more open about it and will show you off whenever he can. He loves hand holding and will periodically kiss your temple and or the back of your hand when you are out

[starkwlkr]

celebrity skin | cillian murphy

barbenheimer series

‘Is Hollywood done with Y/n?’

‘Y/n L/n, the girl failure’

That’s what the articles published on their front page. Recently, Y/n had refused to do a big budget film for a legendary director claiming that she wanted to take a break from the world of acting. Her and Cillian were looking to buy a house in Ireland so she was busy looking at listings and calling multiple real estate agents.

The director ended up calling her a bitch over the phone. He had insulted her over and over, stating that she would regret her decision.

After a source told multiple magazines about the situation only the ‘source’ didn’t tell the full story, the media started calling her annoying, selfish, dumb blonde, and the one that stuck the most, a bitch.

Cillian was not having it. Instead of going to his audition for a new series, he stayed home with her. He didn’t want her to be alone, especially at a time where the media and ‘fans’ were turning their backs on her.

“You don’t have to stay with me.” Y/n sighed as she snuggled up to Cillian. They were currently in London since Cillian had gotten an audition for a BBC series. He called the casting director and canceled, which made Y/n mad. Why wouldn’t she be? He had talked about the audition for months and now he canceled?!

“I want to.” He replied, giving her a kiss to the side of her head. “You haven’t eaten anything. I can make you pancakes, I know how much you love breakfast for dinner.”

“I’ll eat in a bit. I think I want to take a nap.” She said.

Cillian had noticed how she’s been taking naps all week. Sometimes she wouldn’t even come out of her room and all she ate was granola bars and orange juice.

“I want you to know that I’m with you every step of the way. Those articles? They’re wrong. Fuck those articles. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love you so much.” Cillian admitted.

Y/n could feel a tear roll down her cheek. Sometimes all she wanted to do was run away with Cillian to whatever country and live their lives in a nice house.

“You’re a jerk, you know that. . I wasn’t planning on crying today. But I love you too.” Y/n laughed as Cillian pulled her in for a kiss. “I wish we could leave this place and go to one of those cottage houses in the countryside. That’s always been a dream of mine.”

“That sounds nice. Why don’t you pack your bag and I’ll buy our tickets and we can leave tomorrow.” Cillian said.

“What?” Y/n asked confused.

“I saw you looking at this cottage the other day on your laptop. I bought it two days ago and I payed my mum to buy us some nice furniture and food so by the time we get there it’ll be okay for us to stay there for a while. So go pack and I’ll arrange our flight. You and I are leaving all this behind for the next few days. No work, no fancy dresses or premieres to attend. Just us and our new home.” He explained.

“You’re full of surprises, my love.”

TIME SKIP

OCTOBER

It had been a few months since Y/n and Cillian left their life in London and stayed in their new cottage in the countryside. She loved it there. No paparazzi or pushy fans to bother her or Cillian. It was paradise for her. Eventually the casting director for Peaky Blinders offered the role of Tommy Shelby to Cillian since last time Cillian was going to audition he had called to cancel. The casting director desperately wanted him to portray the protagonist of the new BBC series.

Y/n encouraged Cillian to take the role. She was fine with staying in their cottage after all she had made new friends with the women that lived nearby. So Cillian flew back to London to film and Y/n stayed behind. She had picked up new hobbies, fixed some stuff that needed fixing like the guest room and even started working on her garden.

Soon, Cillian had finished filming and made it back home to Y/n just in time for her birthday. Even though it was her day, Y/n insisted on making dinner herself. She decided to cook a comfort food of hers, chicken alfredo.

Cillian watched as she set a plate full of pasta and chicken in front of him then placed hers on her placemat. “I should be cooking for you.” Cillian said, grabbing his fork and beginning to eat.

“If the birthday girl wants to cook then let her.” Y/n stated then began to eat. “How was filming? I saw some pictures on twitter of you on set and I have mixed feelings about the haircut.”

“You don’t like it? Be honest. I don’t like it.” Cillian admitted.

“Well it took some time to get used to it, but I kind of like it now. I don’t know, you look hot either way.” Y/n smirked.

“Then I guess I’ll have to thank the hair department.”

Soon, both plates of food were forgotten as the two lovers made their way to their bedroom, pieces of clothing scattered around. It had been months and both Cillian and Y/n were counting down the days until they say each other again. Months without a single kiss or the feeling of skin on skin. What a way to end your birthday . . .

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @agustdpeach @celesteblack08 @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekyliepage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

[pitchsidestories]

Dublin Girls II Katie McCabe x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2250

a/n: we combined two requests here which were Katie McCabe fluff and the Reader having dyslexia. Enjoy ! ❤️

Dublin, 2015

“Katie, your teammates have arrived.”, Fiona, Katie McCabe’s coworker at Nando’s yelled at her. It turned out that her statement was not even necessary as Denise O’Sullivan rushed in to hug her Irish teammate excitedly:”Katie!” “Hey, girls!”, the midfielder beamed as she looked into the faces of the other young female football players. Amused you noticed out loud, being one of her teammates at club and country:” My girl looking like a glaced donut, we really need to get her out of here mates.”

“Wait. I have two minutes left. My boss is going to kill me if he hears I left earlier again.”, your girlfriend quickly replied.  Hopefully Denise glanced at the brunette:” Can we at least get some Nando’s before we go back to our hotel.” “Do we look like the church? Is this a charity restaurant?”, Fiona scoffed. She reacted with a defeated sigh as the older woman noticed all the players were doing puppy eyes on her:” Okay, fine, what do you hungry girls want?” Those girls were one of Fionas soft spot which was an open secret by now even though she pretended to be annoyed by them whenever they came in.  Slowly Katie shook her “Just give them whatever’s left over.” “Hey, she asked us whatever we want.”, Ruesha Littlejohn protested laughing. Unimpressed she stated:“We’re not making fresh food for you at the end of our shift.”

“With alcohol everything tastes delicious anyway. Also, Katie, I need to introduce you to someone later.”, you winked secretive at your girlfriend. “Who? Can’t believe you all had drinks without me.”, the midfielder pouted. Immediately Denise added: “Not much.” “Yeah, sure.”, Katie snorted in disbelief.  With a look on the clock Fiona confirmed:” You can go now Katie.” “Thanks. See you next week.”, she waved at her co-worker before joining her Ireland team.

When they reached their hotel Ruesha closed her eyes, devouring the food she was holding in her hand:” Oh my god, this is so good.” “Only drunk people would say that about cold chips.”, Katie commented chuckling. Eyerolling the blonde told the brunette:“Oh shut up and start drinking!” “I wasn’t offered anything yet.”, Katie pointed out. A cheeky smile was on Denise’s face as she was handing her a beer bottle:”Here.”

Impatiently you guided your girlfriend to the hotel room you two were sharing:“Now let me introduce you to her.” “To whom ?!”, expectantly she was looking around the area, there was no one in sight. “Can’t tell you who because she has not got a name yet.”, you answered, picking up a small kitten who seemed surprisingly comfortable in your arms, as if she knew she was in save hands.

Katies jaw dropped at the little fur ball you were holding and reached out a hand to pet her; “Oh my god. Who are you? What are you doing here?“ “This is a little girl with no home so I thought maybe we could take her with us… I’ll just get more shifts at the coffee shop.“, you explained, having everything planned and calculated already. But Katie just raised her eyebrow at you; “Seriously? You found her and took her with you?“ “No, I asked the hotel manager and he said she was homeless.“, you defended yourself with a laugh. “Poor girl.“, Katie grinned, scratching the kitten behind her eyes. Looking around the hotel room, she added; “Are you trying to keep her in here?“ “Yes, until we go home.“ You pointed over at a blanket and a bunch of hotel towels rolled into a cat bed and a makeshift litter box. “You’re really a lucky kitty.“, Katie laughed, stilling petting the little cat. “She’s.“, you agreed.

A forceful knock on the door and Rueshas voice interrupted you; “Girls, let’s go!“ You sat the cat down while your girlfriend opened the door just wide enough for your teammates face to appear in the gap. “What are you up to, Rue?“, Katie asked excitedly. Ruesha grimaced at her as if Katie said something particularly stupid, so Denise explained; “We’re sneaking out on to the mens pitch!“ You didn’t even have to see your girlfriends face to know that her eyes got big at the thought of the much nicer pitch. “The one with the perfectly cut grass?“, she asked. You grabbed Katies jacket and shoved it into her hands; “Yes. So what are we waiting for?“

“I’m in.“, Katie smiled brightly as you let the door fall close behind you. “Who’s got a ball?“, you asked. Denise held one up with a wink; “I came prepared, don’t worry.“ You gave her a mischievous smile before the four of you snuck out of the back entrance as quietly as possible. The mens training pitch was not far from your hotel but it was locked and surrounded by a fence. One by one, you climbed over it, landing on the soft artificial grass.

The moon was bright enough to light up the field. With a sigh, Katie let herself drop to the ground and felt the grass with her hands; “They are living the life, huh?“ With her arms crossed in front of her chest, Ruesha stated; “I think we should play here. They can have the muddy dirt pitch we usually play on.“ “That sounds like a fair deal.“, you laughed, helping your girlfriend off the ground to finally play some football. Denise shrugged; “But only for us. They’d kick us out immediately if they saw us here.“

As if the blonde knew what was about to come a man shouted at them:” What are you girls doing? Get off the pitch!” “Oh shit.”, you mumbled under your breath. “Hurry, girls!”, Katie cheered her teammates on. With a glance back Ruesha observed cheerfully: “We’re faster.”  “Shit. My ball.”, Denise cursed. Because you knew how much the football meant to her you patted your friend’s shoulder before running back:” Wait, I’ll get your ball.” “No, fuck the ball. We need to go.”, your girlfriend shook her head.

Triumphantly you picked the football up from the grass while walking back to your teammates:” Got the ball!” “Run. He’s coming.”, Ruesha warned you.  The tension got too much for Denise who dramatically turned her back to not see what was happening in front of her: “Oh, no, he’s running faster.” “Come on, you almost made it!”, the brunette clapped her hands for you. Amused Ruesha caught you, so you did not fell over your feet:” We got you.” “Thanks for saving my ball.”, Denise threw a grateful smile at you. With a huge grin on your face, you replied: “You’re welcome.” “That was close though.”, Katie remarked while putting an arm around your hip as you were walking back to your hotel.

London, 2023

It was a grey and rainy autumn day in London when you returned to Katie and yours home, you could not help but to beam at what you were seeing, your cat being asleep on the defender’s upper body, that peaceful moment between them was definitely a little light on such a day: “Katie, what are you watching?”  “Just a video.”, the captain of the Ireland women’s national team tried to wave it off. Still your curiosity was awakened by her reaction, which is why you took her phone to see for yourself:” Wait, someone filmed that moment?”

 “Hey! That’s mine.”, Katie protested. Lovingly you nodded into the direction of your cat:” Look how small the little missus was.” “She literally fits into the palm of your hand when you found her.”, the defender cooed over your little furry roommate. The pet being one of her soft spots since the day she joined your household. Winking you commented:” And now look at her majesty laying here in all her grace and length.” “Acting like she owns the place.”, Katie noticed smiling. “Oh yes.”, you giggled. More serious your girlfriend continued, reminiscing about the time eight years ago: “But I do miss this time.” “Oh, you miss your shifts at Nando’s and not earning enough money with just playing football.”, you teased her. The defender looked up to you: “That’s not what I said.”

You rolled you eyes with a fond smile; “Yeah, I know what you actually mean.” “Our shenanigans?”, Katie replied, making sure that you were both talking about the same thing. “You‘re still doing shenanigans in club and country.”, you interjected, laughing. Now it was your girlfriends turn to roll her eyes; “Yes, but not like that.” But she couldn‘t suppress a smile either. You sat down at the edge of the sofa and tilted your head; “True though.” “Those were some good times.”, Katie reminisced. Softly, you patted her thigh; “Yes, but we also came a long way since then.” Laughing, your girlfriend agreed; “We did.” You let out a shriek as Katie pulled you towards her all of a sudden.

Your cat had abandoned her spot on top of Katie and lazily watched you two from her scratching tree. “Excuse me?”, you protested, your head pressed to your girlfriends chest. Katie let out a laugh and shrugged; “She doesn’t want to snuggle with me anymore, so you have two.” “You‘re such a softie when you’re not receiving yellow cards.”, you remarked while you reluctantly moved to find the most comfortable spot on top of your girlfriend. “Hey!”, she frowned but a smile tugged on the corners of her mouth. You lifted your hands in defense; “Just saying.” Playfully, the brunette narrowed her eyes at you; “I‘ll show you how tough I am.” “Should I be scared?”, you answered, more of a challenge than a question. “Of course you should be.” “I‘m not.”, you stated plainly. “Why not?” “Because you’re not scary, love.” “I‘ll show you how scary I can be on the pitch then.”

You laughed; “Will you score another banger at our next game?” ”Do you want me to?” ”Yes.” Your girlfriend acknowledged your answer with a nod; “I‘ll score one for you.” She winked at you. “How do you make clear that the goal is dedicated to me?”, you wanted to know while thoughtfully drawing small patterns on your girlfriends sweater with your fingertip. Confident, like she was waiting for you to ask that, she suggested; “How about I steal the ball out of the goal and run away with it?” “I like that one.”, you grinned. “As a tribute to our adventures at the national team.”

Your eyes met and you were reminded of the moment on the mens football pitch in Dublin eight years ago. ”Did you know that Denise still owns the ball I saved for her?”, you asked. Your girlfriend grimaced at the sentimentality of it; “Sounds like something Denise would do.” ”It‘s cute!”, you defended her. Katie shook her head; ”We really were some troublemakers. And sometimes we still are.”

At the next Arsenal game, you jumped into the open arms of your girlfriend: “That was a stunning goal, Katie!” “Hope you liked the celebration as well.”, Katie smirked. Excited you nodded: “I did.” “Me too.”, she admitted.

After the match Vivianne wanted to know from both of you:” What was the story behind Katie’s goal celebration?” “Long story, Viv.”, the defender replied nonchalantly. The forward kept pressing:” Will you tell it at your wedding?” “Maybe I’ll.”, your girlfriend answered. Curiously Steph intervened: “Who said wedding?”  “Of course, they’ll get married. They’ve been together forever.”, Beth laughed. Her girlfriend shared her opinion:” Exactly.” “Guys.”, Katie rolled her eyes at your teammates even though they all were very dear to her heart as you knew.  Still giggly Beth shot back: “It’s legal in Ireland.” “I’m aware of that.”, the defender said.

Later in your bed, the cat between the two of you, you turned to look in your girlfriend’s eyes:” Katie, you’re so quiet?” “Hm?” “Are you okay?”, you asked her a bit worried. Quickly she reassured you: “Of course.” “Good, I’m glad our teammates did not scare you.” “Why would they scare me?”, Katie glanced confused at you. Taking a deep breath, you added: “With the wedding talk?”  “Beth and Viv are just so in love.”, the defender scoffed but her love for them shine threw anyway.  Winking you reminded her:” That’s young love, sweetheart.” “Unlike us. Maybe it’s time to get married. I mean I’d love to call you, my wife. It also has some other benefits.” , your girlfriend grinned. Automatically an eyebrow of yours went up: “Like?” “Tax benefits?”, Katie snorted. You fell into that:” And your mum stop asking when we’re getting married?” “Good joke.”, the defender exhaled deeply. You thought out loud: “Oh right, she’d move on from that straight to children.”

“She’s so annoying. I didn’t know I’d be held to the same hetero-normative standards when I came out to her.”, your girlfriend sighed dramatically. Calmly you took her hand in yours: “Honestly, we already have a found family in London. But I’d like to marry you on our own terms.” “I’d like to marry you too.”, Katie said in an honest tone. You began to blush:” But you’ll have to proofread the invitations because you know with my dyslexia.”  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll let them get done somewhere.”, the defender kissed your cheek which turned even more red.

Grateful you thanked her, enjoying the company of her and the cat and the thought to celebrate your upcoming wedding with the friends you made along the way at Arsenal aswell as in the national team.

[wizardfrog69]

Can you do Dazai in love with Fyodor’s sister?

Another one with this sister thing. Thanks for the request!

'•.¸♡ my enemy is my love ♡¸.•'

Dazai x gn!reader

Fluff

Bsd masterlist

Enjoy!

When Dazai first met you there was not a doubt in his mind you were Fyodor's sibling or related to Fyodor in some other way, I mean name me a Russian from bsd who isn't involved with Fyodor, that's right, there is none.

So naturally Dazai couldn't help but think you would betray him in some way or another and spill all of his secrets to Fyodor.

After warming up to the idea that you weren't going to betray him he started court you.

When you two start going out it's more secretly but once you get more comfortable in the relationship you can start dating and going out more openly, you might even get introduced to the agency but that is unlikely.

When Fyodor finds out about the relationship he is furious and demands you to never see Dazai again in a calm yet deadly manner.

When you refuse to go against your brothers wishes and still go out with Dazai, Fyodor might threaten Dazai's life but when he realises you are truly happy he will start acting more civil and not threaten Dazai with a certain and painful death.

Fyodor wants you to be happy and if that means having to bare seeing Dazai he will do his best not to try and kill the bastard.

Whenever at a gathering of you three Fyodor will talk to you mostly in Russian hoping Dazai hasn't cracked the language yet. If you two know another language (preferably slavic so it doesn't sound like you are talking in two different languages) he will use a mix of both, either to confus Dazai or- no, only to confus him.

Also Dazai will probably make out with you - or try to atleast- to annoy Fyodor, which works well if he may say so himself.

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

Random food for thought: do y'all think Bram will get an Irish accent? And if so which part of Ireland? Or will he get a different accent or just no accent at all?

Have a wonderful day/night! Sweet dreams to anyone who is going to sleep :)

-with love, Az

[hostdoozy]

Chosen Name: Faolán [last name redacted] (pronunciation: fway-lawn)

Alias: "Brewster", "B.S", "BrewsterWorks"

Age bracket: middle-aged

Gender: (trans)Male

sexuality: unknown/questioning (likely on the Ace spectrum)

Occupation: Professional Painter, Art Critic & Ghostwriter

personality summary: Foalán is a secretive hermit that is passionate about Art. He's highly critical regarding most things and isn't exactly the most trusting when it comes to people. Foalán likes his privacy, preferring to keep as much anonymity as possible in most situations. While he's a heavily guarded person, Foalán can be a mischievous playful lil' fella- masking his distrust for others and attempting to mirror people's energy. He tends to miss social cues, so his attempts are- err... "A- for effort"

Backstory!

Yokai live in all corners of the world, sometimes going by different terms depending on the country, varying cultures, etc... Just like... You know- people.

Unlike humanity, all creatures of magic and whimsy are forced to hide away from the world. Foalán is no exception to this.

In Ireland, the Yokai- otherwise known as the "Aos sí", struggle to maintain their land and secrecy. Their habitat slowly dwindling away due to human settlements expanding. This was the kind of environment that he grew up in, constantly hiding away in fear.

The world he knew was small and his only escape was art.

Long before his claim to fame, Faolán would publish his works under the Alias "Brewster" or "B.s". He felt the need to share his work but due to his wariness of People and 'yokai' alike, wanted to keep his anonymity.

It was until he moved to America, that the name "Brewster" became renowned within the Hidden City. word spread around of a fantastic artist, whose true identity is shrouded in mystery and his artistic insight on things is deeply profound but ultimately harsh.

He met Rupert when he freshly immigrant to America, settling within the hidden city.

It wasn't everyday that human causally hung around in Yokai dominated spaces- and it wasn't everyday, that Rupert would see an Aos si in America. Typical of most Irish and British people, he did not hit it off straight away.

Their 'friendship' started as a mutual dealing. Faolán would gather mystical items for Rupert's cooking while Rupert would help Foalán established connections (whilst letting the Puca keep his anonymity)

It was simply met to be a begrudging deal. Nothing more.

However, overtime. They became genuine friends.

Often meeting up at late-night pubs, small food stands or each others homes. They would talk the night aware, endlessly bantering with one another.

They develop romantic feelings for each other.

Yet they never acted on it, staying as friends for years to come. Needless to say, there was some romantic tension between the two.

Foalán would watch Rupert from the sidelines, staying within the shadows while Rupert shines in the spotlight. It was simpler that way.

There were too many things they thought to themselves why things couldn't work.

Suddenly one day, Rupert mutated live on TV. Faolán witnessed his best friend be transformed into a giant monster pig... And from the comfort of his own home. Foalán was beyond worried for him.

He wouldn't answer his calls, he struggled to find him but Foalán didnt give up on Rupert. He wasn't willing to throw all their years of friendship aware.

When they reunited. Rupert was terrified about taking out his newly found 'cannibalistic' tendencies.

Yet Foalán choose to stay by his side... As always... Because of this, they finally had the courage to tell each other how tell feel. Finally becoming boyfriends.

[irishmeadows]

GUINNESS SHEPHERD’S PIE | THE BEST IRISH COMFORT FOOD

[lau219]

Red Carpet

Part 6

Previous part here

…………………………………………………………………………….

By the time they were in the car and headed to Cillian’s interviews later the following week, Lauren and Maeve were already new best friends. Cillian watched with a smile as they sat huddled together in the seat across from him, laughing over photos Maeve had taken on her phone of every little thing that she’d found interesting, surprising, or disgusting since leaving Ireland.

“This man on my connecting flight literally had a can of this stuff in his carry-on, and as soon as he heard my accent, he offered me some.” Maeve showed Lauren a selfie she had taken with the man seated next to her on the airplane, Maeve smiling and holding up a can of spray cheese.

“Oh my God, that’s hilarious!” Lauren laughed. “I wish I could say I’m surprised he was carrying it with him, but I’m not a liar. We’re big fans of the artificially flavored consumables over here.”

Maeve laughed and set her phone aside before continuing.

“He then proceeded to ask me if I collected four-leaf clovers, and also if I’d ever seen a leprechaun.”

Lauren placed her hand on her heart, still smiling.

“On behalf of Americans everywhere, I apologize,” she said.

“Don’t listen to her, Maeve,” Cillian spoke up. “A couple of weeks ago, she asked me if Guinness taps came installed in all of our homes.”

“I did not!” Lauren looked at him with wide eyes and a big smile.

“Right,” he teased her with a wink. When she responded by sticking her tongue out at him, he had to squelch the sudden urge he got to lean across the way and pull her onto his lap.

As she turned back to Maeve, Lauren couldn’t help but think, yet again, how strange this entire situation was. A few months ago, she would never have believed that she’d now be in the company of Cillian, the man she had hated, and actually be enjoying herself. Well, maybe she hadn’t ever really hated him, she thought to herself. He’d just always gotten under her skin. And while he still would egg her on now, she found herself enjoying his teasing in the recent months, as well as his company. In fact, she wanted it. And his warmth towards Maeve confirmed this other side to him she’d slowly been discovering. Lauren got a slight shiver of thrill when she saw the way he was currently looking at her.

Soon after, they were getting out of the car and heading into the hotel where Lauren had arranged Cillian’s interviews. She led them to the ballroom where everything had been set up, and after setting her bag down on a nearby table, she showed Maeve to a small area over to the back of the room where there was a comfortable sofa and a coffee table with magazines and a caterer’s tray of food.

“Just make yourself comfortable,” Lauren said to Maeve as she made to head back towards the front of the room. “I’ve got to go and talk to a couple of people, but then I’ll be back.”

After Maeve assured them that she would be just fine, Lauren looked to Cillian.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said to him.

The photographer was a guy that both of them had met a few times before, and Cillian noticed the way he was discreetly checking Lauren out as she walked around the room. Although Lauren was oblivious, Cillian felt just about ready to wring the guy’s neck by the time they’d finished going over all the details. But soon after, he’d walked off to finish setting up for the photos, and Lauren distracted Cillian by shoving a garment bag into his arms.

“Here,” she said to him. “Bathroom’s over there for you to change.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he teased, gesturing to his plain gray T-shirt. Lauren just rolled her eyes before walking away to go speak with the first interviewer.

She had her back to the bathroom when Cillian walked out a few minutes later. She heard the photographer say something to him, which caught her attention and made her turn around. When she did, her heart skipped a beat.

He looked so sexy that Lauren nearly dropped the bottle of water she was holding. The outfit was a striped T-shirt under a dark jacket, with black pants and distressed suede shoes. The whole look was so effortless on him, and she swallowed when their eyes met as he ran a hand through his hair. Cillian quickly ended his exchange with the photographer and walked over to where Lauren stood with the interviewer.

“Good enough for you?” he said to her, noting the blush on her cheeks.

“Um, yeah...definitely,” Lauren replied quietly. They looked at each other for just a moment before Maeve shouted from across the room.

“You still look like an eejit to me!” she called with a wide grin.

Lauren laughed as Cillian shot Maeve a glare. The interviewer then looked at them both and gestured for them to head over to a set of chairs where they’d be sitting.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said to Cillian.

Lauren had stepped ahead of Cillian to set her water bottle down on the nearby table, and when she turned back, she frowned for a second before gesturing to him.

“Come ‘ere,” she said as she headed toward him.

He took a few steps to meet her, and when he got near, she grabbed the sides of his jacket and pulled him closer to her. Cillian’s pulse quickened as she pushed his jacket open and grabbed his T-shirt.

“This should be untucked; it looks better that way,” Lauren said as she grasped the material.

She tried to ignore the nearly debilitating wave of desire that ran through her as she slipped her hand down his front waistband enough to grab the fabric and pull it up. Unbeknownst to her, Cillian’s cock twitched, and he was willing himself not to get a full-blown erection as he felt her hands on him and the heat radiating from her. He could smell her perfume as she bowed her head to fix his shirt, and when she looked up, their eyes met again.

“Just couldn’t resist touching me, huh?” he teased her, but his voice was low and his accent thicker than usual.

Lauren blushed again and waited for his signature pet name for her to come at the end of his sentence, but surprisingly, it didn’t. In fact, it’d been quite a while since he’d called her that. When she looked up at him, it took every ounce of strength in her not to reach up and brush away the pieces of his hair that had fallen across his forehead.

“Just doing my job,” she whispered.

“Mm-hmm.”

As she let go of his shirt, Maeve’s voice came from across the room again.

“Hey, Lauren, what’s the Wi-Fi password in here?”

Lauren looked over Cillian’s shoulder to her.

“Just a sec,” she answered. Then she looked back to Cillian, jerking her thumb over towards the interviewer. “Try not to be yourself,” she said to him, the ghost of a smile on her face. Cillian smirked and shook his head at her before heading to his chair.

The first interview came and went, and then the second. All the while, Cillian couldn’t help himself from occasionally glancing over at Lauren. She was bouncing between entertaining Maeve, reviewing papers with each of the interviewers, and watching him, her arms folded as she listened to his responses to questions. He tried to think of anything except how he’d like to have her up against him again, but he wasn’t very successful.

Lauren found herself smiling an awful lot as she watched Cillian during his interviews. For as much as he disliked doing them, he was so darn charming that no one was the wiser. She could see why everyone he worked with always liked him so much.

After they were finished, Lauren had to step out to make some phone calls while the photographer did his work. However, once they were done, Cillian came back out from the bathroom, wearing his original clothes again, to find she’d returned. The photographer was talking to her and standing much closer to her than Cillian liked, the two of them laughing with big smiles. He instantly felt his blood boil, and when the photographer put his hand in the small of Lauren’s back as he handed her his business card, Cillian took double strides across the room to get to them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, love,” Cillian said as he slipped an arm around Lauren’s waist and kissed her cheek. He pulled her against him possessively and looked at the photographer, his expression ominous.

“Are we done here?” he said to him, although it wasn’t really a question. “We’ve got dinner plans.”

Stunned at his behavior, Lauren just stared at Cillian, her mouth slightly open. The photographer looked confusedly between the two of them.

“Oh, you two are...I didn’t...uh...yeah...ok.” He was clearly caught off guard, and he looked between the two of them again for a moment before he spoke to Lauren.

“I’ll send you the proofs in a couple days. Feel free to text me before then if you need to.”

“She won’t need to,” Cillian said matter-of-factly, speaking for her. “Take care.” He then made it clear that the conversation was over by taking the business card from Lauren’s hand and holding it back out to him. The photographer gave Lauren one more uncertain glance before taking back his card and walking away.

Still stunned, Lauren just stood there for a moment, Cillian’s arm still around her, before she slowly looked at him. When he said nothing, she pulled away from him to look him straight in the eye.

“What the hell was that?” she said to him in a loud whisper, her face flushed and full of confusion.

“You’re welcome,” was Cillian’s response.

“What?” she replied.

“I know that guy, and he’s a complete prick. I just did you a favor.”

“No he’s not; he’s always been very nice to me.”

“Oh yeah? And why do you think that is? He’s been eye fucking you the entire time we’ve been here.”

Lauren was shocked at Cillian’s sudden brashness. It was a drastic shift from the mood he’d been in just a little while before. She tried to read the look on his face. Was he jealous?

“No he hasn’t,” she said. Then, wondering where this was really coming from, she spoke again. “And even if he was, what do you care?”

His blood boiling again, Cillian glared at her.

“What you do on your own time is your business, but Sharon didn’t give you this job just so you could flirt with every prick we encounter.”

Lauren’s eyes went wide.

“Excuse me?!”

Cillian knew that he’d gone too far, but he was too caught up in it to stop now.

“You’re supposed to behave professionally,” he said.

Lauren scoffed, her expression one of disbelief. She still was having trouble processing that things had suddenly taken such a 180 between them.

“If that’s what you really think of me, then there’s no point in even continuing this conversation,” Lauren said to him. She bent down to pick up her bag that was resting by her feet, then rose and put it over her shoulder. She looked at him again, her tone once again neutral.

“I’ll go get Maeve. We’ll meet you at the car.”

Then she turned around and walked away.

Part 7

@fuseburner @nyxxie-pooh @neonpurplestars89-blog @hannibellector

[olderthannetfic]

I'm a run of the mill White American, and I've been doing a lot of geneological research recently and can't help but feel a deep sense of loss. It's not my own loss, but it''s something my ancestors lost and thus were unable to pass down to me.

One of my great great grandfathers, for example, emigrated from Ireland as a child. From what I hear, he spoke English with a mild Irish accent and faced all the anti-Irish discrimination that was common in his time. His daughter, my great grandmother, had an American accent and there was nothing Irish about her aside from her surname. She had no stories or recipes or songs or festivals from Ireland to pass down toher own children, and by the time we got to me the fact that that side of the family was Irish at all had even been forgotten. Word of mouth in my parent's generation was that that brand of the family was Scottish (it was a common Mc/Mac surname, spelled variously in different records), and it wasn't until I traced my great grandmother's census records back to her birth that I learned that my great great grandfather's name was Patrick and he was born in Ireland. Anything Irish, even the very fact that he was Irish, that this man brought with him from his home was entirely lost within the space of a single generation. That loss of culture and identity is tragic, even if it's not my own loss.

The same thing happens on nearly every branch of my family.

Another great great grandfather emigrated from Italy as an adult; records from 1890 described him as a naturalised citizen who looks and sounds Italian. His son, my great grandfather, had am American accent, did not speak any Italian, and had no Italian culture to pass down to his children. Aside from the name and the basic fact that the surname is Italian, all Italian culture and identity was lost, again within the space of a single generation. All the Italian food my parents cooked when I was growing up were things they learned from recipe books simply because they liked it, and had nothing to do with my father's Italian heritage.

Another branch of my family is Swiss, it took one generation to lose Swiss accents, language, and culture there, too.

Another is Danish. it seems to have taken two generations for all Danishness to have disapeared.

The Dutch and German branches of the family both came to the US earlier than these, so it's harder to track down information about who came from where and when, but there was no Dutchness or Germanness in those respective branches by 1900, they spoke English and were considered Americans, and if they had any specifically Dutch-American or German-American culture or traditions, they did not pass them down to my great grandparents' generation.

All these cultures are things I could have had, but that my ancestors lost or hid or had taken from them before we got to me. I'm comfortable in my cultural identity as a white American, I don't feel any need to go out and claim to be Italian or Irish or Danish or Swiss or anything, and I especailly don't want to talk over anyone actually from those parts of the world, but for my American identity to exist, countless people lost their own European cultural identites. Some were more marginalised than others (a recent reblog posted some newspaper ads that demonstrated how German Americans were prefered over Irish Americans, and I can't help but think about that in context of my own German and Irish ancestors who were in the US at that time), and some are more at risk than others. The Italian language isn't going anywhere any time soon, but every person who learns to speak Irish is one more drop in the bucket against that language going extinct.

I think it's important for White Americans to remember where we came from and to know what our ancestors lost to create the identity we have today. Even if I have no Italian-American culture, it's good to be able to say "my surname is from Italy and I know what the world was like for my great great grandfather". It's also important to realise that our ancestors' identities are not our own, and what they lost cannot be regained simply by claiming their identities for ourselves. I can try to learn about and participate in their cultures, I can learn to speak Italian and cook Danish food and sing Irish songs, and in doing so I can even help keep at-risk cultures or languages or traditions alive, and this is good, but we also have to keep in mind that having an Irish great great grandfather does not mean that we are Irish the same way he was.

--

The loss of culture is sad, though one thing I will say is that immigrants between anywhere and anywhere tend to lose their old language by the third generation unless they're going back and forth or there are a lot of monolingual speakers in the new country. That probably wouldn't ever have stuck around, but the food and the festivals could have.

[the-kingshound]

I feel like I've said something similar before (so no need to answer), but can't find it, sorry your story just makes me ramble with theories, and I want to get deep into the world and characters building 😩

Honestly I get the Venegard parents. They're definitely not healthy, especially by modern standards, but there's a war going on. They're fighting for the freedom of their people, and they're raising their kids to continue the revolution. I understand the people who are playing a submissive mc who follows their parents out of fear and obligation, and I get the people who are playing an mc that is angry and glad to be escaping the cage. But I was wondering about the mc that is (a victim all the same, for various reasons - parents, enemy country, war - but) proud to fight for their people, even if they don't really get the plotting, they already have a hound disposition to their House. Would they have to betray their country/house to end up being loyal to Arthur? I think there isn't a route that makes you incredibly into the politics that's going on in Ireland, and doubt there will be after on (absolutely understandable, the amount of coding, or even how you feel your story should progress, and many other factors interfere into it). I guess that role ended up being Adrei's as the heir, and the hound, being the youngest, hasn't had any reason to be a fervorous loyalist to their country. There's also the war factor, that makes you wonder if there ever will be a winner, with so much loss (comrades, enemies, the war itself - the hound lost the war, they owe making things right to someone [themselves, the country, their parents]) and blood in the hound's own hands. But even so, I wonder what would the final straw be for mc to betray their home, if they are, at the begging, loyal to the Irish. Comfort? To a person that has only known harshness that simple day-to-day 'getting used to' could be a big pending to Camelot's side. But still... What if the hound's loyalty was less... Fluid? More stable? If the 'blood is thicker than water' was a mantra, became a truth... If they go in adamant that they're in a spy position, just waiting for their parents command to end the king, and get Ireland back. That turning point is making me chew my fingernails in anticipation (figuratively speaking). And that 'what is the hound willing to sacrifice for Arthur' ask got me thinking: indeed, how far will the Venegard's youngest go for the enemy's king.

I'll give you, hopefully, some more food for thoughs on the matter before answering your questions.

Right now, the goal of many Houses (including MC's parents) is not even to strictly achieve independence for Ireland. Most of all, they want their country to return to the old strength it held under the Emperor. They are nostalgic for that, and resentful because Uther exploited the vacancy on the Irish throne to swallow Ireland whole. But then again, the Empire had been going through a slow but constant decline for decades.

MC's parents, and other Houses, view Arthur as an outsider, and this is the reason why they don't want him ruling over them. They deem him weak, incapable as a leader, and son of a tyrant (no matter how tyrannical and brutal the same Emperor was).

So, keep in mind that sometimes the parents view might be distorted on some things. But, nonetheless, they have a strong motivation which one can agree with.

Now, as for MC. The fact is that I specifically wanted to tell the story of a person extremely loyal to the King, protective for their new family to the very end of things. Going for an option where MC agrees and supports their parents would complicate things quite a bit. Turning around the loyalty of MC would make for very different moments... it would just be so much to change and the whole premises would be altered somehow.

And you have to consider something: MC was told very very little about the rebellion, about their parents plan, about anything. This is part of the reason why from the start they feel some sort of betrayal/resentment towards their House. It is quite clear to MC how they were used as a puppet and despite the reasoning, they cannot but feel some sort of negative feelings over it. Adrei is the only sibling who knows part of the picture.

Every other sibling was kept always in the dark, politically, so not to be a source of information for their Welsh spouses or other Houses. And so that the parents can be the ones to control this difficult game in their own hands.

But your ask has given me a lot to think about for sure... (and this is the most difficult topic the game will have to face)

[secret-rendezvous1d]

can you imagine the come down with Harry after all these special Wembley shows? this time around, instead of spending the night in a hotel, you decided to head back to your shared flat in London before starting to get ready for Cardiff. and you just spend the days off cuddled up somewhere, in bed, or on the sofa, watching whatever crap is on UK TV. yesterday was Father's Day so you did the obligatory drive round to each of your fathers' with a card and a pressie before coming back, both of you changing into your Love On Tour sets to resume the slothness of the day. and the day before the Cardiff shows are due to start, you're still just taking it slow. maybe doing a clear out of the flat so you don't have to do it when the tour officially ends. just grateful you can go to up to him without any crew members bending his ear, grateful that your boy gets to do what he loves, but also grateful that you get to love him, without any interaction. i'd imagine that as much as the missus loves coming with Harry on his tours, nothing beats nearing the end of it when he'll go into hibernation and it'll just be her and her harry.

oh god- this triggered something in my head and i'm not well- so you guys can deal with it with me...

W E M B L E Y H E A D C A N O N

it doesn't truly hit harry till the end of his four night residency.

the entire week is like a blur - from the moment they land in london after his show in ireland, it instantly flies by and the two of them feel like they don't have the chance to be themselves.

nights one to three, they end it at home.

the first night, he's tired. he forgets just how much of a chokehold that wembley stadium has upon him and he forgets how the entire atmosphere just drains him (in a good way, of course). all he wants is for the two of them to go back to their home, back to their own bed and the comforts of a house and not a hotel room, and collapse under their sheets because it's been too long since they've spent time in their own house.

the second night, they stay for a little while after the show with his family and her family and their mutual friends and his band. having the champagne and the beers and the alcohol that had been left from the previous night because everyone just wanted to enjoy the whole night and wanted to remember it all without being drunk. they wait till the london traffic would have died down so they could go straight home but neither of them cared what time it was that they walked through their front door and slowly got themselves ready for bed.

the third night, they choose to get food on their way home. getting dressed in their comfiest clothing (yn's had to be his love on tour hoodie and harry's had to be his personalised adidas tracksuit that he had custom-made for everyone on his tour) and leaving as soon as they're ready. craving something greasy. burgers. chips. the biggest coca-cola they could find.

at the end of night four, however, hey wait till the very end of the night - when everyone, from the fans to their families to the tour crew to the cleaning crew, was out of the stadium - to just take in the entirety of the venue themselves. a bottle of wine in his hand, two glasses in one of hers, their free hands held together with clenched fingers as they walked down the corridors and made their way back out.

the air is still warm.

the sun is still setting so there's a gentle hue in the horizon of the arch standing high above the stadium.

the lights are still on, the stage is still set up, and all they can do is stand in the middle of the set-up and take in the depth of the place he'd just sold out for four nights. lit up enough for him to truly see what he'd just done.

"mad, innit?"

he sounds so quiet compared to how loud his voice was booming around wembley not more than two hours ago.

"it never gets old. it's so amazing."

they walk down the stage, passed where johnny's place would have been, and sit themselves down in the middle of the peak of the square stage.

legs dangling over the edge.

the sound of wine glugging into two glasses.

"this view will never be something i get used to."

"it's beautiful, h. when it's empty and when it's full of people you've taught to be themselves."

and they sit there for a while; reminiscing about the last thirteen years and the times she'd been able to attend shows that were huge milestones in his career. and they cry a little, with happy tears in their eyes, and they laugh a lot and they just take in everything together.

and yn is always surprised when she feels even more pride in her body - more than she thought she could feel - and listening to him talk about how appreciative and thankful he is for everything, it makes her feel so lucky to be able to be alongside him on his huge journey as becoming who he wants to be.

and when it's time to leave, they're a little wine drunk and it's a good thing that they had a driver driving them home tonight.

kissing in the back of the car, holding hands, being close to one another practically drooling over one another, feeling like teenagers in love. giggling, flushed cheeks, tousled hair atop his head and tendrils falling from her up-do that had managed to stay up for the entirety of the night.

and they made love all night.

a quick one in the kitchen as they made themselves a snack before bed.

in the living room because they couldn't quite make it up the stairs and he couldn't stop looking at her bum as he followed behind her.

at the top of the stairs because he tripped up the second-to-last step and took her to the floor with him, cackling in her face before she started something he just couldn't say no to.

in the shower - their favourite place - washing off their sun-kissed skin and pressing kisses in the path of the scrunchies scrubbing at their skin.

and they finally ended the night in bed. having the softest and the sweetest and the most sensual sex they could possible give each other because all of their emotions were to the brim and bursting from within.

it's practically morning by the time they fall asleep, birds tweeting through the open window and cars passing by as people went to work, but they don't care because he had a day off of travelling and touring the following day and neither of them needed to be up for anything in particular.

[fyonahmacnally]

Supercorptober 2023

Day 4 & 5: Money/Maroon

“We should probably get up and find something for lunch since your stomach has been rumbling for the last hour.” Lena says, smiling into Kara’s neck from her position on the couch. “We have everything we need for sandwiches or we can heat up the rest of the lasagna from the plane. I plan on cooking our dinner tonight anyway. Especially now that we have something to celebrate.” She places a soft kiss against the warm skin underneath her lips, smiling again as she feels the blonde shiver beneath her.

Kara sighs, tightening her arms around the smaller woman on her chest. The warmth of Lena’s body is comforting resting half on top of her and snuggly tucked against the back of the couch. “But I don’t want to get up, Leeennnaa! You're so warm and cute and cuddly.” She places a light kiss against the curtain of silky raven hair and nuzzles closer to her warmth. “I’ll be fine to wait a bit longer for food. I’m comfortable and happy right now.”

Just as she finishes her sentence, another loud rumble resonates between them. Lena cackles, her laughter loud and unrestrained as she lifts her head away from Kara’s neck. Doing her best to rein in her amusement, she lifts a dark brow in question. “Really? You can wait a little longer? I think your stomach begs to differ.” 

She lightly pats the blonde’s stomach before pushing herself up and off the couch. Offering a hand to help Kara stand, she bites her lip to keep from laughing again. Clearing her throat and tilting her head to the side, she pulls Kara up and toward the kitchen. 

Grumbling in protest, Kara shuffles along behind Lena. “Food could’ve waited. I’d rather cuddle with you in front of the fire.” The patented Danvers pout makes an appearance as they arrive in front of the refrigerator and the Kryptonian stomach offers another protest.

They both laugh and Lena rolls her eyes. “Darling, we have plenty of time for cuddles in front of the fire.” She stretches up on her tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on soft pink lips. “And since when do you pass up a chance for food? Have I somehow managed to bring an imposter to Ireland with me?”

Kara wraps her arms around the CEO’s waist and pulls her closer. “I think you underestimate how much I like being able to kiss you and snuggle on the couch with you.” She leans forward to press their lips together again and softly rest their foreheads together. “Now get to kiss you, I can’t get enough.” Her stomach protests again, making her sigh and relinquish her hold on her…her what? She thinks. 

Huh. We haven’t really talked about that, have we? She shakes her head. That’s something to bring up later. 

“Hey, where’d you go? You drifted off on me. From the look on your face it doesn't look like it was pleasant either.” Lena notes, her slender fingers brushing some stray blonde strands behind Kara’s ear. “It looks like you just accidentally ate a piece of kale. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Mmm, nothing that can’t wait until later. Let’s get food so we can resume our couch snuggles.” Kara smiles and spins Lena around to guide her toward the fridge. “You grab the lasagna and I’ll grab plates and such.” She immediately starts opening cabinets, the hurt and confused look on Lena’s face going unnoticed. 

They end up eating at the island bar in the kitchen, Kara seemingly lost in whatever series of thoughts pulled her away from the moment earlier. Since Lena isn’t sure how to ask about it, she focuses on her own food, her own thoughts starting to spiral. Unlike most of their lunches where there is constant conversation, this meal is subdued, tense even. Unfortunately, Lena’s insecurities are triggered and she begins to wonder if Kara regrets confessing her feelings. She exhales slightly louder than she means to before pushing her stool back and hurriedly grabbing her plate. 

Her movements seem to pull Kara out of her bubble. The reporter realizes she’s been in her own head for the entire meal and is deeply frustrated with herself. After managing to confess her feelings to the woman she’s madly in love with, she can’t seem to drum up enough gumption to ask what happens now. It should be pretty evident, she thinks, they did confess their love to each other, but assumptions have never gone in her favor. Only gotten her in trouble too many times. She huffs her irritation and pushes her stool away from the counter to follow behind Lena.

The mood seems to sour even more after that. Lena mentions something about doing some prep for their dinner and doesn’t bother to ask Kara to help. Instead of actually talking about the shift in energy around them, they both do exactly what Kara said she didn’t want to happen…they both make assumptions. With Lena’s silence and distance, the blonde assumes she wants to be alone. Kara’s sullen demeanor and lack of engagement during their meal leads the CEO to assume she’s possibly regretting her decision. They’re set on a collision course navigated by miscommunication and assumptions.

Once Lena finishes prepping everything for dinner, she finds Kara still in the den reading a book and quietly slips out of the kitchen. Making her way upstairs to the loft, her eyes drink in what was once her mother’s library. She feels a warm blanket of belonging the moment her feet cross the threshold.

It’s a rather large area, covering roughly half of the surface area of the cottage and overlooking the den. It’s the only room in the entire place that seems to be mostly untouched by the remodeling. Just a few updated amenities. The room is covered in warm, deep maroon wood and rich textured rugs over mahogany floors. There is an antique desk and its corresponding lamp in the far corner creating a neat little office space. In the center of the space, there’s a worn reddish-brown leather couch and two matching armchairs. All of the walls are lined with the same mahogany wooden shelves and filled to the brim with leather bound books. 

She takes a moment to breathe in and let her mind settle. The energy in the space feels familiar, a presence pressing and nudging at the far reaches of her mind. Then it hits her. It’s the first time since they arrived this morning that she can feel the hum of her magic beneath her skin. If she didn’t know any better, she would say she can sense her mother’s presence in the space around her. Another deep breath and she sends that thought away. 

She curiously makes her way over to the desk, wondering what might be lurking in the recesses of the antique pieces. The vintage desk chair sitting sentinel like behind the desk sends another tendril of magic sparking along her nerves. It makes her pause her steps briefly before she continues to her destination. The moment her hand lands on the smooth leather of the chair, an arc of magic swirls around her and branches across the desk. It catches her so off guard that she gasps and jerks her hand away from the chair. 

Lena’s head snaps toward the railing overlooking the den expecting to see Kara hovering there after her unexpected gasp. Instead, she hears a soft calling of her name and the blonde asking if she’s okay. After reassuring her best friend that she’s fine, she decides to continue her exploration. She changes direction to the shelves deciding she can come back to the desk another day. The sudden activation of her magic has her feeling overwhelmed and even a little scared. Right now, she just wants information. Activation and practice can be dealt with later. 

After pulling several thick, well-worn books from the shelves around her, she spends the next three hours lost in the tales and folklore of the Walsh clan. Many of the stories she’s read and the symbols she’s seen were in the book her mother would often read to her as a child. Even though the memories of her mother have faded over the years, she still remembers the stories. 

Just as she is about to close the book in her lap and grab another, she realizes it will have to wait. She sighs, it’s time for her to start dinner. Kara hasn’t spoken a word since she checked in earlier and while she realizes she is just as capable of reaching out, it frustrates her that this is where they left things. The reporter confesses her love, they have a wonderful morning snuggled together and making-out a little only for Kara to stiffen and start acting distant. Practically mute at lunch. The way she oddly responded to Lena asking about her thoughts makes her feel uneasy and incredibly anxious. It’s confusing and she hates feeling so unmoored. 

Sitting the books aside on the small coffee table in front of her, she stands and does her best to center herself before heading downstairs. She’s not sure what the rest of this afternoon and evening are going to bring, but she may as well face it and get it over with.

Kara looks up just as Lena starts down the stairs. Lena doesn’t make eye contact with her and it sends her stomach into a tailspin. She’s pretty sure she really messed up when she brushed off the dark-haired woman’s question earlier. For the past three hours, she’s been dissecting the whole situation in her head. She tried to read, but after having to go back to the same sentence six times, she gave up. Here she is hours later and still no closer to figuring out how to fix this before it gets worse. 

She watches as Lena steps off the last step and turns right into the kitchen, still avoiding eye contact. The blonde sighs and drops her head back onto the back of the couch. Why do I always do this? It would have been so simple to just talk to her. You idiot. She smacks her hand onto her forehead and quietly groans. Seriously, you know Lena retreats and throws her walls up when she feels like someone is keeping something from her, you big dummy. 

Lena purposely avoids looking at Kara. It might be petty, but she doesn’t want to see regret in her favorite blue eyes. She’s pretty sure that would break what’s left of her fragile heart. So, she focuses on the kitchen and getting the ingredients she prepared earlier. At least with her mind and energy on cooking, she won’t dwell on what she thinks Kara might say to her. She internally rolls her eyes and starts pulling out everything she’ll need.

Across the room, Kara is still watching her best friend and realizes how poorly she handled their interaction earlier. It probably would have been fine if she hadn’t basically ignored Lena through their entire meal. She can only imagine what kinds of things are rolling around in the genius CEO’s brain. Gods, Kara, you’re an absolute fool. She berates herself internally. 

She has to fix this and it can’t wait. 

Jumping up from the couch, she speeds into the kitchen and stops right in front of Lena. Kara sheepishly reaches out to take her hand, gently removing the spatula from her other hand before taking it as well. She clears her throat and straightens her back. “I’m sorry.” Blue eyes lock onto cloudy green.

The patented Lena Luthor eyebrow raise slides into place before she asks, “Sorry for what, Kara? You’ll have to be more specific.” She does her best to keep her boardroom mask in place, not sure where this conversation is headed and desperate to protect herself.

Kara squeezes the slender hands in her palms and lets go. Taking a deep breath, she looks into her favorite shade of green and immediately sees confusion laced with hurt. That just won’t do. “I’m sorry for brushing you off when you asked what was going on in my head earlier. Then I got so wrapped up in my head when we were eating that I didn’t even realize I hadn’t said anything until you got up.” 

Blowing out a huff of frustration and running a hand through her hair, she shifts to lean against the counter. She still isn’t completely sure what she’s trying to say, but knows she needs to fix this. “When we were standing here and you asked me what was going through my head, I was, um, it dawned on me that…well, I just…” Another groan of frustration.

“Kara, just say it. We’ve been friends for years and have been through hell and back, I doubt whatever it is you’re trying to say is going to be any worse than anything we’ve said before.” She grimaces as she thinks about what actually would be worse than anything else, but schools her face before it reveals too much. “Go ahead, just spit it out. You may as well get it over with.” She forces a weak laugh.

The blonde tilts her head to the side, she can tell that Lena is bracing from something awful to come out of her mouth. All the signs are there. Her CEO mask is in place, her normally sparkling mossy green eyes are a cloudy jade, and her voice is resigned. Kara has definitely fucked up. Once again, her cowardice and fear have hurt the woman she loves. 

She reaches out and pulls Lena close, hands resting on the shorter woman’s hips. “It’s so stupid when I think about it here at this moment. Especially since I can see that you’re thinking the worst.” She shakes her head again, unbelievably irritated at herself. “I told you that I can’t get enough of kissing you and it made me realize that…that I don’t know what we are right now. I mean, you’re my best friend, of course you are. Always will be, but we just haven’t talked about things.”

Kara leans forward and presses their foreheads together. A position that is slowly becoming her favorite. Right now though, her heart is in her throat. She swallows audibly, trying to force it back down. Leaning back to look into Lena’s eyes, she finally gets the nerve to explain. “I was scared to talk to you about it so I brushed it off and then got stuck in my head while we were eating. I made you feel like I was ignoring you. Rao, I did, huh? Which was stupid because I know you and I know that likely made you start thinking the worst. And I’m sorry. I promised that I would be better about talking to you instead of being a coward and assuming things. Then I did it anyway and now you’re probably upset with me. Ugh. I just, I’m really sorry, Lena. I hope you…”

“Kara. Darling…” She reaches up and gently places her index finger over the Kryptonian’s lips.  “...you’re rambling.” She smiles and shifts her hand to the blonde’s cheek as she watches her shoulders drop a little.

“Sorry. I’ve just been, um, trying to figure out how to talk to you about this for the last three hours and I couldn’t stand feeling like you were upset and it was my fault. Especially over something so stupid and me being a coward.” She pauses and chuckles, tilting her head back in exasperation at herself. “I’m rambling again. Just know that I’m sorry. The whole thing was because I couldn’t muster up the nerve to ask you what all of this means for us. It wasn’t because I regret anything. I know that’s what you were thinking.”

Lena can feel her ears and cheeks heating, no doubt a blush traveling up her neck to go along with it. “You, uh, you’re not wrong. I was scared that you changed your mind or were regretting the confession. But I could have just as easily talked to you or called you out on it, Kara.” She grumbles and huffs before seeming to settle on her next words, gesturing between the two of them before speaking. “We both need to be better about communicating how we feel. I think that is the biggest reason we danced around things for so long.”

They both stare at each other with dopey smiles on their faces before Lena breaks the moment. “In case you were wondering, I’m all in. I’d like to give us a go, Kara. I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t remember what it was like before.” She pauses, lifting her hand up to rest on the soft, warm skin of the blonde’s cheek. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to call you my girlfriend. Does that define things clearly enough?”

A wide, beaming smile spreads across Kara’s face. One of her hands sits on top of Lena’s and she leans into the contact before turning her head to press a kiss into her palm. “I’m all in as well, Lena. I think I’ve loved you for just as long, even if I didn’t realize it at the time.” She giggles, shocked that it took her so long to figure it out. “Being your girlfriend would be an honor. I can’t wait to explore this with you!”

The two of them share a sweet, soft kiss, basking in the warmth of each other and breathing a sigh of relief that things are out in the open. They finally separate to wash their hands and start working on making dinner together. It takes them about an hour to get everything ready and dished up on their plates. By the time the plates are served and the wine poured, the sun is starting to set. Kara suggests they sit out on the patio to eat so they can enjoy the last rays of the day together. 

The blonde has just come back outside with her second serving when her head tilts to the side in her signature super hearing move. She places the plate on the table as they both hear something around the corner. Kara squints her eyes as she x-rays through the walls to find the culprit. She grins and points just as a silver-blue colored cat turns the corner, hopping onto the patio. The feline observes the two of them with its intense blue eyes, seemingly sizing them up. 

Lena smiles at Kara’s childlike excitement. She can tell the blonde wants to scurry out of her chair and over to the cat, but is doing her best to remain still. Eventually her excitement wins out and she carefully approaches the curious creature. It is clearly someone’s pet. They can see a bright green collar with a silver tag attached to it. As the superhero kneels next to the cat, a soft meow greets her and she gently caresses the soft fur. Within a few minutes, the cat is curled up in Kara’s arms purring contentedly. 

It absolutely doesn’t surprise Lena at all. Kara seems to attract people and creatures wherever she goes. It’s one of her girlfriend’s more endearing qualities. She smiles and bites her lip as she realizes it’s the first time she’s referred to the blonde as her girlfriend, even if it is inside her own head. Her eyes settle back on the scene in front of her as Kara lifts the tag to see if there is any information about who the critter might belong to.

An adorable laugh pulls the CEO from her thoughts. She looks up to find Kara snuggling the cat into her face. “Aren’t you the cutest little thing, Cash?” A wide smile is directed at Lena before she looks back down at her new companion. “Lena, this is Cash Walsh. It seems he belongs to your cousin Liam. So, he’s technically family.”

Lena laughs and rolls her eyes. She will never get used to how freaking adorable Kara always is. “Maybe so, but we should probably call to make sure he isn’t lost.” 

Lena grabs their plates and heads back inside followed by Kara carrying their wine glasses, Cash apparently comfortable enough to enter right along with them. Lena quickly covers Kara’s food and places it in the refrigerator, letting the dirty dishes collect in the sink while she calls Liam.

As it turns out, Cash is a regular visitor to the cottage and roams between Lena and Liam’s property quite frequently. Now that they know he isn’t lost, the two of them decide to grab some blankets and finish their evening watching the sunset from the gazebo, Cash following closely behind them.

“You know, I could see us spending a lot more time here in the future.” Kara sighs as she settles into the cushions next to Lena. “It’s so quiet and peaceful out here. There’s a calmness and warm energy. Not sure how to explain it, but I like it.” Blue eyes glance down to find sparkling green already staring back.

“Mmmm, serenity. That’s what it feels like to me.” Lena smiles and leans up to place a soft kiss to her girlfriend’s jaw. “I think I’d like to spend a lot more time here. We haven’t even been here for 24 hours and I am more relaxed than I have been in years. Well, now I am. Earlier I was feeling like my world was about to be flipped upside down again.” She chuckles when Kara groans and tilts her head back.

“I am still so mad at myself for causing such an unnecessary problem.” She tilts her head back down to look Lena in the eyes. “Listen, I promise I will do better and that I will try to stop getting in my own head. You’re my best friend, there’s no reason I can’t talk to you about anything. Old habits are just really hard to break.”

Lena lifts a hand to rest on her cheek. “Darling, we both need to be better. I could have pushed and talked about how I was feeling too. Neither of us are used to being so open with anyone. For different reasons, sure, but it’s the same outcome.” She pulls the blonde close, pressing their lips together several times before they’re both smiling too much to continue and she leans back. “We’ll figure it out. We always do. No matter what happens, we find our way back to each other. As much as this scares me, I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

The conversation drifts into silence, their eyes shifting to the pink, orange, and maroon streaking across the sky in front of them. It’s a moment neither of them will forget. Their bodies pressed closely, barely any space between them, wrapped in a blanket and each other. It’s perfect. Romantically, they couldn’t have planned anything better.

It’s so still and serene that Kara’s sniffles seem like they’re broadcast through a bullhorn. Lena’s head snaps up quickly, her concerned green eyes landing on glistening cerulean. “Darling, what’s wrong?” Cool, pale fingers gently wipe away the tears before pulling Kara’s head onto her chest. “Are you okay?”

A wet chuckle escapes the blonde’s lips and a shaky breath causes goosebumps to rise along Lena’s skin. “Nothing, Zhao. I think this is the happiest I have been in years. The woman I love feels the same, I am on the first vacation I’ve had in as long as I can remember, and the sunset reminds me of Rao.” Another shuddering breath and she sits up, places her hands on pale cheeks, and leans in.

Their lips meet in a soft, sensual kiss. It’s unlike anything either of them have ever experienced. Different from their first kiss. The simple act conveys more than their words ever have. Lena deepens the kiss and it moves from slow and sensual to frantic and fiery. Just as things are about to get even more ardent, something lands on them, startling them apart. Kara quickly floats them off the bench in a panic, scanning to see what sort of creature has attacked them.

Lena is clinging to the super with all her might and doing her best to stifle the laughter that is bubbling up inside her chest as the blonde slowly drops them back onto the bench. When they disentangle their limbs, Cash is sitting next to them purring loudly, another similar looking feline perched next to him. The fur on the second cat is a shade darker, more of a charcoal instead of silver and piercing green eyes instead of blue. A soft meow is sent their way as the new critter makes its way over to them.

The blonde giggles and reaches out to allow the mystery cat to see that she isn’t a threat. Instead of stopping to sniff Kara, the cat has its eyes set on Lena. The agile creature steps over the super and meows at the CEO until she pets the charcoal fur. Lena laughs when she sees the epic pout on Kara’s face. It isn’t often that she is the one chosen over little Miss Sunshine whether it is people or animals so she is going to relish in this moment. 

“Aren’t you a sweet little thing?” Lena coos at the cat sitting on her lap. “Looks like you don’t have a collar. Are you friends with Mr. Cash? Hmm?” She smiles as the mystery cat starts purring and kneading the blanket in her lap. 

Kara is still pouting until Cash decides to take his place on her lap. She is instantly distracted by his kneading and purring while she showers him with affection. Neither of them are saying anything, now fully focused on their furry interruption until Kara suddenly shrieks in excitement. 

Lena startles, letting out a yelp causing the mystery cat to promptly launch itself into the air. Cash immediately bolts away in the opposite direction. And Kara? She’s sheepishly biting her lip and half-smiling in sheer happiness. 

Once Lena manages to calm her racing heart, she raises a dark brow at her girlfriend asking ‘what the hell just happened’ without saying a single word. She crosses her arms for added effect. 

“Um, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Or the little critters, but um, I just thought of a perfect name for the new cat.” Kara stutters and grins, her body practically vibrating with excitement. “Are you ready for it? I think you’re going to love it. Especially because it’s your cat.” She places extra emphasis on the ‘your’ part.

The CEO rolls her eyes, again raising her brow in question. The cats slowly start making their way back over, eyeing Kara cautiously.

“Ok. Hear me out.” Kara smiles. “You’re rich, like a millionaire, right?”

Lena unsurely nods her head, still trying to figure out where this is going. Mystery cat is now perched back in her lap very openly giving Kara the side-eye.

The blonde starts giggling, reaching down to pull Cash back onto her lap before looking at Lena. “So we have Cash.” She lifts him up as he protests, then she points to Mystery Cat in Lena’s lap. “That’s Money. And you’re a millionaire!” She lets out a hearty laugh, seemingly proud of herself for coming up with something so ‘clever’ on the spot.

“Get it?! Cash, Money, Millionaire!” Kara giggles and puffs her chest out.

“Oh god.” Lena groans, biting her lip to keep from laughing at her antics. “You are such a dork!”