#Muse of Rugby

[cubanjoc]

Fabio “El Cubano” 🇨🇺 Macchiato

12.12.2022

@iamfabioloso

[bailesona]

“  ellie?!  good  grief,  girl,  what  are  you  doing  out  here?  you’ll  freeze  into  an  icicle,  and  we  already  have  too  much  ice,  thank  you  very  much.  in,  in!  “          leo  lacks  the  exact  brand  of  hospitable  host  that  aisling  seems  to  force  herself  to  occupy  in  hawkins.  truth  be  told,  it  was  always  fine  and  good  until  they  left  the  burger  bar  behind  and  came  to  the  suburbs.  the  kids  were  terrific;  saner  than  any  adult  he’d  ever  come  across  since  arriving  here,  anyway.  but  watching  aisling  sketch  crimson  daubs  of  lipstick  and  cobalt  blue  eyeshadow  in  an  attempt  at  blending  in  was  a  new  form  of  uncomfortableness.  the  mums  and  wives  flocked  to  their  house,  more  often  than  not.  and  unlike  the  kids,  who  were  content  to  discuss  aliens  and  alternate  dimensions  and  dungeons  and  dragons  all  day,  these  women  had  a  single  focus  point  for  their  discussions;  gossip.  the  mailman  was  having  an  affair  with  the  librarian’s  sister.  the  vicar  was  skimming  nickels  and  dimes  from  the  collection  basket.  riveting  shit,  really.  the  true  irony,  of  course,  being  that  hawkins  was  a  hotbed  of  actual,  genuine,  world-changing  events  without  needing  to  talk  shit  about  the  poor  milkman.

“  you  want  a  coke?  hot  chocolate?  here,  dump  your  coat  on  the  pile;  i  think  aisling  got  collared  by  mrs.  wheeler  about  some  missing  pyrex  dishes,  so  we  could  be  waiting  a  while!  you’ve  met  tim,  haven’t  you?  he’s  trying  to  fix  my  deflating  meringue,  but  i  reckon  it’s  a  lost  cause.  tina’s  in  the  treehouse,  too,  and  i  think  everyone  else  is  piled  into  the  living  room  to  watch  telly.  i,  on  the  other  hand,  am  trying  to  fold  napkins  into  swans  for  our  fancy  family  dinner!  we  could  use  a  hand  setting  the  table,  though,  if  you  want?  it’s  up  to  you,  kiddo.  “

@couldfight​ liked THIS POST for a family holiday dinner thread! ( leo wants to meet his new bestie but ALSO U CAN LITERALLY PUT EL WHEREVER U LIKE OKAY ILYSM-- )

[ducknotinarow]

[2k12 Rasey] ❛ keep it. it looks better on yer. ❜

| Muse interaction

Raph did like sports I mean how couldn't he not? well he mostly like the high content ones. Wrestling, football, Rugby, boxing of course ninjutsu also applied here. Eh Raph was taught how to fight since he and his brothers could just about walk. And of course hockey, though admittedly he got more into to that because of his boyfriend being a hockey player themself, hey it's hard not to feel Casey's enthusiasm as being infectious as any flu could be. Though Raph didn't always understand the whole superstition that seemed to come with being a serious puckhead. He'd been able to sneek into the locker rooms with Casey a few times without anyone else around and they had some thing about never stepping on the school logo? It was why Casey grew out his hair cause it brought him luck as well. Casey had a whole list of these things and Raph just sort of had to nod his head and lift a brow when they came up far as he was concerned Casey was just nuts.

Especially when it came to the jersey he wore, Casey tended to only wear the one once again, they claimed it brought him good luck. Maybe Casey had a point because Casey was forced to wear his spare one day and that game? had not gone well. And there was Casey's icy cold furry on the lose once again. Resulting in a tear of the jersey fabric. Once they got him to settle down, Raph took the offending jersey and told Casey he take care of the tear. Unlucky or not eh when you grow up picking the scarps you learn to tend and care for your things, and seem Raph sort of just applied and extended the thought his boyfriends way.

Raph plucked up the stretch needle and threaded the end with a good size length of polyester thread. Splinter though something like sewing would be good for his anger, and eh sometimes it worked but sitting still when angry never worked for him it's why mediation was the thing he practiced the least. He sucked at it. Legs crossing over each other as he reached for Casey's spare jersey he found the tear along the sleeve eyeing it a moment before he got to work. Making sure to keep the stitch as clean as he could. He still didn't get this whole luck thing Casey went on about but hey ya shouldn't trash something just for no reason he just wanted to finish getting this done before Casey got to the lair. He didn't need his boyfriend know he could sew. Sure he didn't do it often but it did become a decent skill to have under his belt. Fixing up Splinters robes when they would need it, or things his brothers needed some mending towards like stuff animals and such. Eh like he told Casey it was just better to treat what you had with care. Take care those things and they will last longer.

Raph got a bit lost in his thoughts, Splinter wasn't wrong with this idea in the long run. When Raph did manage to sit still and concentrate, he could remain calm. Having something to keep his hands busy always made it more so. It didn't take long to get the tear to close up. The knit fabric of the jersey easily pulled back together he gave a final tug and watched at the thread pulled through, bringing the two sides of the tear in together, moving the needle in to tie it off in a double knot. Biting at the thread so to 'cut' it.

Looked good, he noted as he set the needle to the surface of the small bookcase that acted as a headboard to his bed. Attetion back to the jersey, he gave a few good tugs to test and make sure that it wouldn't snap right away. Seemed to be good? Holding it up in front of himself, you could tell Casey never wore this one compared to the 'lucky one'. It's not he jerseys fault Casey had no game, Raph smirked at the thought. Still, though, he wanted to make sure he did the stitch right. The thing was massive even for Casey, but it had to be in order to fit over all the padding Casey needed to dress up in. The length wouldn't be the same, but?

Scooting off to the edge of his bed as he landed on to his feet to stand up. Pulling the jersey over his head, it easily fitting around his shell as it sat over his shoulders. Raph pulled his arms through and looked down. It just about reached his knees. Well, it makes sense with how freakishly tall Casey was. He looked to where the tear was. He made sure to tug and pull as much as needed and not need but the stich held in place, smile over his beak. Actually, this felt kind of nice? Maybe cause the material? But it was slick and jusr comftable the large size adding to it. No, dont steal this, too. You already got away with the hoodie...its not like Casey wears it, though? And it is very comfortable since it was made to fit over all thise pads it fit nearly perfectly outside the length, but even then? Was Raph's thought process until he heard the last thing he wanted to.

"Casey..." He sighs and rolls his eyes, not even glancing their way as he went about going to move the jersey off. "Don't ya start ass. I jus' wanted ta make sure it wasn't gonna tear again." He brushed off with.

❛ keep it. it looks better on yer. ❜

Raph was quick to let go so it would drop back into place once he had permission to keep it. "Ya? I can 'ave it?" A little flutter inside his shell much like when he first claimed one of Casey's as his. He couldn't explain it. Maybe he just liked having something from Casey. That was his? His tail gave the slightest wage from under the jersey as Casey once more stated that yeah, Raph could keep it. I was likely able to tell, but Raph opted to ignore that, soon though his tail stopped.

"Wait, this in't because ya said it was the bad luck one, right?" Raph asks, fixing green eyes on to his boyfriend now. Casey states no, but they were still clearly staring at Raph right now? Raph looked them over a moment...."Wait, I know that damn look." Beak curled into a smirk now that he figured it out step over to then hands on his hips a moment,"or ya gotta be kidding me." He was clearly assumed despite his wording. "Aye, go around bearly dressed." By human standards, of course. "But the moment I got your jersey on ya git 'em fuck me eyes on full blast." Even as he teases Casey over it there is some enjoyment over this little fact fir the turtle now. Smirking more, a glint in hus eyes as he stepped back till hitting the edge of his bed sitting down, hey, if Casey wanna look right?

"So what is it? the look alone or 'hat I got ya name and number on me?" More teasing thrown Casey's way it just how they flirted honestly their love language was on only they were well versed in. Raph reclined back a bit "what dose it point out who I belong to hmm?" Hitting at thst little need for assurance he knew Casey had. Not that Raph minds it felt nice to know how much Casey wanted Raph at times. "Aye mean it is boyfriend rights, I get ya stuff cause I. Am. Yours." Ephasis on the last three words thier "Afta' all." Was he eating this up of definitely. would he find any excuse to wear this now? Once again yes. Fishing for more now "guess I should ditch it for now though, we plan on headin' out afta all 'ight?" Fully smirking waiting to see if Casey in the mood for a change in plans now. Hey they started Raph was just making it know he was looking to finish it.

[adveanture]

should i just go ahead and add bicon nick nelson here 

[ddejavvu]

multiverse monday ask!! rugby james w his shy gf who hates sports games but goes to all of his anyway. and afterwards he’s all proud and grateful and gives her thank you kisses in the locker rooms <333

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

"I just think that-" James speaks only inches away from your face, leaning in to peck your lips gratuitously between words, "It's really considerate of you-" Another smooch, this time wetting your bottom lip slightly, "To show up, 'cause I know-" Kiss, "Social gatherings aren't your favorite-" This one hits your chin more than your lips, "But you do it anyways."

You like the feeling of being smaller than him while he's hovering over you. You're sitting on the bench with your hands twisted together in your lap, his hand under your jaw as he tugs you up for each kiss. He's standing in front of his open locker, shirtless as his sweaty jersey hangs in his hand. You'd wear it yourself if it wasn't so stinky, and you're afraid the smell is going to infect the shirt he has in his locker as a change.

"Of course I come," Your thumbs twiddle together, "What kind of girlfriend ditches their boyfriend when he's playing?"

"The kind that don't like sports." James muses, finally slipping his shirt on and sliding it down his toned abdomen, "'S not a bad thing, lovely. Not everyone's cup of tea."

"But you're my boyfriend," You explain, as if he needs a reminder, "Sports is automatically my cup of tea. It's like, the only tea on the menu."

"Well if you'd ever like a break from tea," He wrestles with his basketball shorts, slipping his thick thighs through the mesh, "You're welcome to order coffee instead."

"This metaphor is getting out of hand," You grumble, trying not to stare at the skin of his thighs as they disappear under the fabric.

"My point is," James leans in, finally stable on his feet as his breath ghosts over your lips, "I love seeing you in the stands. You don't have to come, ever. But you do, always, and that means a lot to me. I love you."

"I love you too," You murmur against his lips, eyes shining as his do the same only inches away from you, "Do you really see me in the stands?"

"I scout you out before every game," He promises, throwing a glance over his shoulder, "Sirius told me if he finds you before I do, he gets to kiss you."

Your brows furrow, "I didn't agree to that."

"That's why I find you first every time," James snorts, "'S like I have a radar, y'know? I can tell where you are from a mile away. Boyfriend senses."

Boyfriend senses sound cool. You're not sure you have girlfriend senses, unless the ability to know exactly which pair of sneakers James needs every time he tells you to grab the black and white ones counts. All of his shoes are black and white sneakers.

"They're more powerful than just that, y'know? Like, m'boyfriend senses are telling me that you need some cinnamon rolls for breakfast tomorrow morning. So let's get out of here," He gestures around to the sweaty, stuffy locker room, "Get some dough from the store, pick up thai on our way back, and have a cozy night in."

"Your boyfriend senses really do work," You marvel, "Quick, what flavor chapstick do I have on?"

He leans in for a kiss whether you meant him to or not, tongue laving along your top lip and then dropping to his own to taste the sticky remnants of the kiss.

"Strawberry." He hums, "Burt's Bees."

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom. John finding new families along the way.

Surprisingly easy

John has never had any reason to cherish his own family. His parents were always fighting about some trifle detail or other. Harry was difficult at best, detestable at her worst. 

He heard the saying for the first time when he was fifteen, and it immediately hit home.

Friends are the family you choose.

John didn’t have many friends. Not close ones anyway. His fellow rugby teammates were the closest he’d got before uni. At his practise at Barts Hospital, Mike Stamford was a bloke to rely on. Easy and fun to hang out with. A bit boring and predictable, but John could live with that.

When John joined the army and sat foot in a war zone, his comrades became his new family. As a captain he had the responsibility and was suddenly the head of the family. Not that he thought about his men as family at the time, but when he came back home to London, John recognised that they indeed had been the closest to a family he’s ever had.

John has always been a private person. His trust issues come from years of being let down by his biological family. So, the instant attraction and trust he felt toward Sherlock when Mike introduced them, came as an utter surprise to John. Months later, Sherlock revealed having had the same feelings when John lended him his mobile.

“You were the first person who’d intrigued me in years. Although I could deduce much about you, there was always something that astounded me. It still happens occasionally,” Sherlock admits.

“I’m flattered,” John tells him. “To be fair, I never thought that someone like you could find me a tad bit interesting.”

Sherlock had convinced John of the fact quite thoroughly using his lips and hands after that. Gasping for air, John had agreed that he indeed was the most precious and fascinating human being ever created, all out of fear that Sherlock would stop his worshipping of John’s body.

***

The car stops outside the cosy house, and John can’t wait to get out and greet the residents. Sherlock and Mycroft are more reluctant to move. John rolls his eyes at his beloved and the beloved’s older brother.

“Come on, you two. Stop behaving like teenagers being forced to visit family members. They both love you dearly, and I’m in awe over the fact that they tolerate your behaviour,” John says sternly before he opens the car door.

He moves rapidly toward the house, but before he can knock, the door swings open and John finds himself embraced by an elated woman, who smells of baked goods and gardenia.

“John, darling,” Violet Holmes exclaims. “How lovely to see you.”

“Likewise,” John says and presses a kiss to her cheek.

Walter Holmes comes into view behind Violet, and John frees himself to greet the patriarch. They shake hands and Walter places a warm hand on John’s shoulder.

“Alright there, son?” he asks.

“Absolutely. I’ve even managed convincing your offspring to come along,” John grins.

“Ah! Quite the achievement,” Walter praises.

John turns when he hears Violet coo and hug her sons equally enthusiastic as she did with John just minutes earlier. It never fails to amuse John how affectionate the Holmes brothers are with their parents once in their orbit. The bickering between the two, is another matter, but it’s less venomous here than in London.

Violet Holmes is an excellent cook, and even Sherlock eats his fair share of the delicious meal, not to mention the chocolate mousse with fresh berries from Walter’s garden.

Being the only Watson at a table crowded with Holmes’s, John feels content and he can honestly say that they all are his new family. Even Mycroft, Sherlock’s protests notwithstanding. 

***

“It’s surprisingly easy to love your family,” John muses where he lies curled up in Sherlock’s arms on the sofa in front of the fireplace later that evening.

Sherlock hums and combs his long fingers through John’s hair. 

“What would you say to becoming a legitimate member of the Holmes family, John?” Sherlock asks quietly.

John gasps and turns to face Sherlock, his eyes starting to fill.

“Sherlock,” he whispers. “Are you asking me what I…”

“Yes, John! Obviously,” Sherlock says with a teasing eyeroll, before his face softens.

John sits up and straddles Sherlock’s thighs, his hands cupping Sherlock’s cheeks carefully. He catches plush lips with his thinner ones, and snogs Sherlock breathless.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” John murmurs.

Such a wonderful prompt! It was a joy to write.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @phoenix27884 @a-victorian-girl @topsyturvy-turtely @gregorovitchworld @kettykika78 @helloliriels @peanitbear @safedistancefrombeingsmart

[raina-at]

Clues

“And where are you off to?” John asks, looking up from his textbook. He’s sitting in the kitchen, studying for his anatomy exam and eating chips.

Sherlock passes by the table and takes a chip from the paper plate John is holding out in an unspoken invitation. “Molly needs help with organic chemistry.”

John smiles at him fondly. “That’s awfully nice of you, sacrificing your Friday night to help her.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “She’s going to be Anderson’s TA next semester, meaning she’ll have access to the lab after hours. It’s a simple exchange.”

“Yes, yes, you keep telling yourself that, much easier to pretend you couldn’t just break into the lab like you’ve done all of last year, instead of admitting that Molly’s your friend and that’s why you’re helping her.”

Sherlock helps himself to another chip. “Shut up,” he says, then pops the chip into his mouth, making John laugh. 

The sound shivers down Sherlock’s spine like a warm caress, making him feel warm all over. He’s long since stopped asking himself why making John laugh is the best feeling in the world, he’s just accepted that it is. 

“Fine, go share your big genius brain with the girl who isn’t your friend at all, of course,” John answers. He gets up and nudges Sherlock with his shoulder as he passes to the sofa. “Text me if you’re going to spend the night, okay?”

“Yes, mother,” Sherlock says with mock annoyance. 

John flips Sherlock off absently, already engrossed in his textbook again. “Finish off the chips, will you,” he says absently.

Sherlock shrugs into his coat and grabs the chips from the table to have on his way. “Don’t wait up,” he says in lieu of goodbye and closes the door behind him.

*-*

“So, if you look at the molecular structure of- Molly, are you listening to a word I’m saying?”

Molly looks up from her textbook and blushes scarlet. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock, I’m just-”

“Just what? Ungrateful? Inattentive? Wasting my time?” Sherlock ticks the points off his fingers. “Uninterested in passing this course? Willing to throw your future away?”

Molly drops her head, her forehead meeting her textbook with a painful-sounding thud. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing…”

Sherlock sighs. “Let me guess. This is about a boy.”

“Yes,” Molly all but wails. “I’m being so stupid! But I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s so handsome” She lifts her head a bit, looking at Sherlock with a pleading expression. “You know Greg? From the rugby team?”

Sherlock nods, his anger abating somewhat. Greg apparently has a debilitating effect on girls. He’s noticed it on several occasions where John dragged him to social gatherings. The effect is entirely lost on Sherlock himself, though he acknowledges that Greg is good looking. Maybe it’s because Greg is so unquestioningly straight, but then again, so is John, and John’s mere presence both enhances Sherlock’s intellect and has the ability to derail it completely. So he sympathises with Molly. To an extent.

“What would it take for you to be able to actually concentrate on what we’re doing?” he asks, checking his watch. It’s only nine, maybe they can save some of this study session.

“If I knew for sure that he’s not interested, I could put it out of my mind. I know he likes me, but I’m not sure if we’re just mates, or if he wants to take it further.” She pulls out what looks like a battered women’s magazine. “There’s a list of clues here. Whether someone likes you. Maybe we could….” she trails off, giving Sherlock a hopeful smile.

Sherlock sighs. “Let’s have it then.”

“Okay, clue one: He’s looking for excuses to touch you.”

“Sounds a bit fishy,” Sherlock says, waggling his hand in a ‘not sure about that’ gesture, thinking of how John constantly bumps against him, puts a hand on his shoulder, or his arm. “Friends touch quite often as well.”

“He did touch my arm this afternoon,” Molly says, musing aloud. “I’m going to mark it down as a yes.”

Sherlock decides he needs a control group. He’ll compare the clues on the list to things normal friends — like he and John — do all the time.

“Go on.”

“Clue two: Shares food. Greg gave me half of his muffin last week.”

John sharing his chips without even a second thought. “Meaningless. Next.”

“Compliments you. Greg told me I’m really smart the other day, does that count?”

John calls him brilliant and amazing all the time. “No. Friends like each other, that’s not an indicator for romantic attraction.”

“One or two of these are normal among friends, it says here. If you get seven or eight out of ten, he’s interested in more,” Molly muses, but continues reading the clues out when Sherlock makes a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “Four: Shows concern for your wellbeing.”

Text me when you stay over. Finish my chips. Do you want some tea? “Friends do that. Next.”

“Five: Goes fishing for information about your romantic life. Greg did ask me if I have plans for the weekend, do you think he might- Sherlock, are you listening to me?”

Do you have a girlfriend? 

Not really my area.

Do you have a boyfriend, then?

Their first conversation over dinner the evening John moved in, after Mike introduced them as potential flatmates. 

“Read the next clue.”

Molly looks down at the paper. “Shows interest in your hobbies.”

John leaning over him and looking at crime scene pictures, John listening to him go on about the chemistry of tobacco ash and the infinite varieties of London soil, John’s enthusiasm for his violin…

Sherlock swallows. “Next.”

“Initiates contact, makes plans.”

He takes out his phone and looks at his last ten text alerts. They’re all from John.

“Next.”

“Wants to meet your family.”

Well, nobody wants to meet Mycroft, but John usually offers him tea when he comes over, and John’s shown a certain amount of — morbid — curiosity about their parents. 

“Next.”

“Blows off people and plans to spend time with you.”

“And the last one?” Sherlock asks, unsure if what he feels is hope or dread. 

“Lots of eye contact.”

“Molly,” Sherlock croaks, unsteadily. “I have to go.”

*-*

The way home takes thirty minutes and that’s time enough for Sherlock to do some serious thinking on the subject of John Watson, and what Sherlock wants from him.

Facts: John is intelligent, smart, funny, good company, he smells good, his eyes are extraordinary, he’s the only person Sherlock could envision living with and his laugh makes Sherlock shiver.

He comes to the following conclusions:  a) He’s in love with John, and has been since they met. b) He’s a massive idiot. 

*-*

Sherlock bursts into John’s bedroom without knocking. “Do you like me?”

John, who was fast asleep face down on his textbook, sits up, blinking against the light. “What?”

“You know how much I hate repeating myself,” Sherlock says, running a hand through his hair, gesturing in agitation. “Do you like me?” he asks, gesturing between the two of them.

John blinks, obviously still half asleep. “Um…”

“Answer the question!” Sherlock snaps, irritated.

“I’m not even sure I know what the question is,” John says, frowning at Sherlock, confused. “You storm in here in the middle of the night and yell incoherent nonsense at me, and you’re irritated at me?”

“We got ten out of ten, John! Ten out of ten!” Sherlock yells, dimly aware that this doesn’t exactly help John with anything, but too agitated to care. “You touch me all the time, you care about me, you let me rant at you, you feed me, you’re polite to my brother, you haven’t been on a date for months,” Sherlock enumerates the points, checking them off with his fingers. “I forget the rest, but you see the point, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure I do,” John says, rubbing a tired hand over his forehead. “You asked if I like you. Of course I do, we’re friends.”

“Yes, obviously, but do you like me? Like me, like me? Have sexual and/or romantic interest in me? The clues say you do, and the clues never lie!”

John looks distinctly uncomfortable, and he’s even blushing a bit, which Sherlock rates as a very good sign. “Um…” he rubs the back of his neck, a classic nervous tell, then he looks up at Sherlock, and there’s that eye contact the article was talking about. “Would that be a problem?”

Sherlock releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “Of course not, you absolute idiot. Why do you think I endure your dreadfully slow typing, your inability to pick up your dirty socks from the bathroom floor and your horrid taste in music? I’m obviously completely besotted with you and have been for a while now. Granted, I only realised right now but-”

He doesn’t get any further because John pulls him down to the bed, rolls on top of him and starts kissing him like there’s nothing better to do in the whole entire world, a sentiment Sherlock is in complete agreement with.

“I think we’re done talking for now,” John says with a wicked grin as he pulls back a bit to look at Sherlock.

Sherlock quite agrees and pulls John down for another round of snogging.

He makes a mental note to thank Molly in the morning. Then he dismisses everything that’s not John from his mind. It’s surprisingly easy. 

Have a bit of fluffy Unilock with awkward boys today. This got long, that's why I cut it.

Thanks for the prompt and the tag, @calaisreno

Tagging a few people to join the fun: @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @jrow @fluffbyday-smutbynight @topsyturvy-turtely @totallysilvergirl @khorazir @catlock-holmes @meetinginsamarra @lisbeth-kk

[styleswithaseaview]

navigation

-♡-

about me...

evelyn. she/her. ravenclaw. cancer ☼ cancer ↑ taurus ☾

under 17 dni

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recent fics…

h.j.p x reader

p.p. x reader

movie night - p.p. x reader

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current muses...

marauders (poly)

james potter

sirius black

remus lupin

harry potter (aged up)

tasm!peter parker

steve harrington

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writing rules...

requests: open

ask nicely please i'm fragile :)

will do minor angst but only with a happy ending

only light smut as of now until i get better with description

no character death (some of us prefer to live in delusion)

will do almost any au's for characters, including but not limited to: modern!au, rugby!james, tattoo artist!sirius, non-magic!au, no voldemort/vecna/etc!au and so forth...

no eating disorders, severe mental issues, etc not only for me but bc it can be triggering to a large audience.

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other blog...

@isolemnlyswear (old writing for marauders)... might merge soon

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misc information...

used to write for cedric but have been inactive for ages now.

open to any questions :)

will post a taglist form if people express interest

[sassyfrassboss]

In the Dutch translation of Scobie's book, the hitherto unnamed royal who put this offensive line of questioning was not, in fact, one person but two: the King and the Princess of Wales. Of course, we do not know if this is true. If — a very big if — Charles or Kate, or both, mused aloud on Archie's future appearance, we do not know whether there was a smidgen of racism going through their head. But, in the Dutch edition, they were named nonetheless. As a result, the entire print-run of the Dutch edition had to be pulped.Difficult to know what was implied here.

Was it all a carefully organised stunt? As someone who has had his work translated into many languages, I can tell you that the Dutch print-run is always the smallest, since so few people speak Dutch and most Dutch people speak better English than we do. So, if it was a hoax, they were not running much of a financial risk. They probably had to pulp only a few thousand copies, if that. And it makes a good story that someone mysteriously 'leaked' the true names of the alleged royal racists.

It's interesting, isn't it, that the two names, Charles and Kate, are also the two royals who are doing the most to preserve and strengthen the monarchy as a serious constitutional entity.

Charles has had a really successful and popular first year; Kate shows an apparently inexhaustible willingness to be on parade on an almost daily basis — taking part in rugby practice, visiting hospitals and schools and smiling with natural radiance wherever she goes.

This is what I’ve been thinking, like it or not Chuck has a good PR nowadays with his visits overseas has caused sensation, his PR is full about strengthening the monarchy, commonwealth and stability.

Then we have Kate, which has been very popular with everything she does, as the article said: from rugby to this to that. Some have talked about her as the future of the monarchy and how that future rests on her shoulders.

I don’t know if they indeed were the accused or not, but I honestly think it’s time for Charles to grow a pair and come an clean their names, because while some aren’t taking this seriously, this definitely will stained their reputation for the rest of their lives.

It is definitely something that will follow them around the rest of their lives, especially if they are ever in the same place as the Sussexes.

I think Charles and Kate were targeted because 1) Meghan hates Kate and 2) Meghan is furious that Charles never gave into her demands over the past three years.

[idontknowreallywhy]

WIP Wednesday

I’m sure that nobody will be able to tell that I’ve spent the week by the pool on a sub-tropical island… sadly a distinct lack of gorgeous Tracys to enhance the view but a girl can daydream ;)

Completely unrelatedly… we’ll get her out to the island at some point…

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Kayo hadn’t batted an eye when Estera had quietly begged to borrow a T-shirt and shorts alongside the bikini. And nor did anyone else when she quietly joined them on the pool deck. If anyone asked she could always just blame the lighter side of pale her complexion tended towards… no point messing about with the sun on her first ever day in the sub-tropics. It was logically sound and only 90% a lie.

She was a coward and she knew it. Even the most casual glance at the topless Tracy brothers in and around the pool revealed an array of pale scars, highlighted in most cases by evenly tanned skin, about which they were clearly not ashamed. Gordon had the most dramatic ones. She’d heard about his accident and his battle to walk again and the marks framing his spine spoke of a far more outstanding achievement than even the Olympic rings he had tattooed on his left bicep. Of the others, Scott and Virgil had the most varied and widespread, which made sense given they along with Gordon covered the bulk of the physically demanding rescues. Although she suspected certain of Scott’s predated International Rescue…

She shivered despite the hot sun and pushed away the irrational sense of guilt which threatened to surface. Distraction was key, so she sat at the edge of the pool and let her feet dangle in the water while continuing her subtle inventory.

Alan had escaped with the fewest, thank goodness, although there was one that spoke of a radial pin being a feature at some time. John’s, less visible because of his paler skin tone, appeared to be primarily to his lower legs… she wondered if they were somehow more vulnerable in space but then how could one slice open a shin like that and not damage the spacesuit? Perhaps they had happened on Earth? Kayo had also apparently escaped with minimal scarring, other than to her limbs and the back of her neck.

She wondered at the stories all of them told - heroic scars that spoke of daring feats and survival against the odds. Hurts they carried for choosing to do the right thing, to put themselves in harm’s way for the sake of others.

Her musing was interrupted by a colossal splash as a co-ordinated rugby tackle by Alan and Gordon knocked Virgil backwards into the pool. Somehow he had dragged them both down with them. Scott cackled from the side but was soon silenced as John quietly walked past and shoved the eldest brother in to join them. Much shrieking ensued as the younger three piled on top of him.

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[givemeangstymemes]

Bold what skills/hobbies apply to your muse!

Means of transportation:

skiing  |  sailing  |  boating  |  canoeing  |  horse riding  |  bicycling  |  car driving  |  truck driving  |  motorcycling  |  ATV riding  |  OTHER (add your own)

Hobbies:

painting/drawing  |  wood carving  |  sculpting  |  pottery  |  photography  |  reading  |  writing  |  discussing  |  chess  |  playing board games  |  computer games  |  computer programming  |  playing cards  |  card tricks  |  magic tricks  |  cooking  |  baking  |  dancing  |  zoology  |  ornithology  |  OTHER (add your own)

Sports:

swimming  |  running  |  tennis  |  basketball  |  baseball  |  rugby  |  football  |  cricket  |  archery  |  shooting  |  hunting  |  boxing  |  karate  |  judo  |  MMA  |  wrestling  |  yoga  |  rowing  |  weightlifting  |  gymnastics  |  OTHER (add your own)

Combat:

handguns  |  knives  |  sniper rifles  |  assault rifles  |  grenades  |  grenade launchers  |  rocket launchers  |  tanks  |  bombs  |  bomb defusing  |  mines  |  minesweeping  |  hand-to-hand combat  |  OTHER (add your own)

Tagged by: Tagging:

[a-cosmic-elf]

Okay, I will do this one because it’s another chance to post some Muse.

30 Day Song Challenge: Day 14 - a song you’d love to be that was played at our wedding

by our covers band (obvs, I wish we had Muse at our wedding. The dude who sang it did go on to be a huge star with his own band, so that’s our little claim to fame).

People still talk about our wedding, and yes, it might not have been a ‘first dance song’, but it said, and still says, everything about us. And yes, I jumped about like a loon in my wedding dress and heels. It rained hard, and at the end of the night my wedding dress was so muddy it looked like I’d played rugby in it.

But then I was a filthy archaeologist, so ending your day covered in mud wasn’t anything new. Plus, our wedding cake was a three-tiered chocolate monstrosity, served with strawberries, because we both hate fruit cake and fuck tradition (another thing that upset the MiL, she made her own fruit cake, and I just let her because ‘eh’, whatever).

I’ve been lucky to see the real Muse live 4 or 5 times. We always stay for Knights of Cydonia, then sit exhausted, waiting for the crowds to disperse. (Except that one time at the Olympic Stadium, The Simulation Theory tour, where we danced at the top back steps like a pair of idiots and then ran for the tube ahead of 60,000 people 😅)

Oh, the memories.

[ddejavvu]

Giving rugby!James back massages after hard practices. Just self care that he absolutely loves because it’s more time with you 🥹

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

When you and James were still in high school, you'd always tell him to go pro with his rugby skills. You haven't in a while, of course, not since he actually went and did it, but it was a phrase he's probably heard almost as much as 'I love you' from you.

That's why you stifle a giggle when he groans it into his pillow.

"Love," His nose smushes against the pillow, mouth nearly spilling drool over the fabric, "You've gotta go pro with this."

"I don't think you'd like that," You laugh, the heel of your hand digging into his tight shoulder blade, "I'd be rubbing people's backs all day."

"Yeah that's what I mean," He hums, his voice muffled by the pillow to where it's barely audible, "You could make so much money with this, baby."

"I didn't think you'd want men paying me to rub their naked bodies down," You muse, and his muscles re-tense under your hands where they'd been practically oozing into his bloodstream.

"On second thought," James hauls himself up and rolls over, elbows digging into the mattress as he stares up at you with wide, slightly panicked eyes, "I don't think you should take this anywhere. It's- it's not that you're not good at it, you're great, but y'know, the economy is tough right now, and starting a business might be a little beyond our capabilities. Plus, I mean, who wants to give massages all day? I bet your poor wrists would get so sore."

"I think you're right," You sigh wistfully, rolling your admittedly-aching wrists in circles that crack their joints, "Looks like you're my only client, Jamie."

He tries concealing his satisfied smirk behind your wrist as he kisses it. You wish the gesture sucked all of the achy pain out of your joints, but the though counts enough, and you turn your hand so that you can cup his cheek. it's flushed and tacky from where he'd been laying against his pillow, and you notice that there's less tension in the way that he holds his shoulders; before they were practically around his ears, now they're comfortably slumped.

"Thanks for being my personal masseuse," James hums against the soft skin of your wrist, lips puckering to press a kiss there once more, "'Love you."

"I love you, too," You smile, bracing your free lotion-soft hand against his thigh as you lean down to return the favor. The kiss is short and sweet, but you can't help ruining the moment.

"Can I do your bum next?" You hum, mere inches from his face as his eyes sparkle at you. He laughs, the sound coming out directly in your face as he tries stifling it.

"Yeah," He breathes, keeping his face close to yours, "Yeah, love, you can do m'bum next. Just try not to get too handsy, m'kay? The boys'll make fun of me if it's red tomorrow in the showers."