#eedjits

[paulftompkins]

Celebrate St. Patrick's Day with us, either in the same room or wherever you happen to be!

LODGE ROOM TICKETS

STREAMING TICKETS

[rheanrya]

DERRY GIRLS SEASON ONE, EPISODE FOUR

[melvinthedepressedrobot]

spent all morning getting ready for a lolita meet, doing makeup, stressing over buses and stuff

nearly there, just checked the event page cause I thought I was going to be late, it's not on til tomorrow 🤦‍♂️

[bougiebutchbitch]

PSA: THE 13K SMUTFEST IS ALMOST COMPLETE

hoping to publish at the weekend!

[ohmygraves]

ghost who eloped with his spouse, who moved into a small house for about a month before he had to fly out on a missions outside of england. hell, the place was pretty bare and he couldn't even manage to put in some nice furniture before price told him to get his arse into a plane to russia for a five month long mission. didn't even get to enjoy some honeymoon before his job fucked him over.

safe to say, he hadn't established a routine at his new home yet ever since he moved out of his barracks room at the base. he was only at home for a little while, it only makes sense that he doesn't know where everything goes sometimes. and of course, he somehow misplaced himself.

at the end of the deployment, he was too tired to even care. his eyes were so heavy and tired that he made his way back to his old barracks room, kicking the door down and throwing his bags to the side (and scaring poor soap who was asleep on the bed, since of course he's the one who took ghost's old room back at the base).

his eyes met the scot, a little confused as to why he sees someone on his bed.

"whit the hell!? lt!? did the missus kick ye out?" soap groaned, scared shitless as he tries to calm his heart.

the question took him off guard, and he stood by the doorway quietly, just processing it.

"... i have a spouse."

"ye eedjit." soap shook his head, telling him to leave soon or else an angry spouse will buzz off his mohawk.

poor ghost, rushed out of the base in the middle of the night trying to get back home. he's got a lot of apologizing to do. hopefully his spouse was asleep and didn't realize that he practically drove twice over the speed limit and possibly ran over someone just to get to his spouse's arms.

[philtstone]

Claire/Jamie, 45

#45 -- you're my Achilles' heel

It is unclear how the whole debate started, all the more so for the relative witlessness of its debators. Claire allows, between her protests, that it's giving them something marginally better to do than stand around uselessly in this stagnating camp and rot in the cold.

"No, no no no. It is a metaphor, my dear Master MacKenzie, and that is that."

"Och, Claire ..."

"Och, Claire --"

"An Achilles' heel," says Claire with finality (she is really quite cold, and so less indulgent than her usual self), "is not, nor has it ever been, a literal medical condition. Nobody suffers from one single overly-vulnerable appendage." She grimaces, bent over and peering between her tools, at the state of Kincaid's teeth.

"My own appendage is fair indestructible," declares Angus; Claire does not see the lewd gesture, but divines it all the same, "if ye ken my meaning --"

"Yes thank you Angus," she says, while Rupert shoves him, barely holding back his mannish snicker.

"Eedjits," grumbles Murtagh.

"Have you been cleaning your teeth at all, Ross?"

The man in question shrugs. "Here an' there, Mis'ress," he manages, as much as a person can with hands in their mouth. Claire sighs.

"Alright. Well, try one more pass with the willow twig every night, and make sure to dip it in alcohol first."

"Aye, bu' tha's stuff's better put tae drinkin', isnae't?"

Rupert is next, and Angus hanging about to pass the time -- or avoid his own check up, which Claire has not forgotten is due -- and their asinine chatter continues. While Claire retracts her hands from within the warm damp of Kincaid's mouth, Angus says,

"Pretty stupid way tae go though, dinna ye think."

"What? Bad teeth?"

"Ach, no. I meant -- ye ken -- the one arrow, an' jest like that, yer gone."

"Death by heel, ye mean? Aye, that's a mighty inconvenience."

"Oh, I was still talkin' 'bout my cock."

Claire disinfects her tools and ignores the biting wind, and the amused twitch of her own mouth. Amidst Kincaid's deeply unimpressed groans, she straightens the scarf around her neck, and wipes her nose on the elbow of her sleeve; her gloves must be carrying all manner of illness, by now. Beyond their little tent, more or less useless against the wind, the rest of the camp displays a grey lifelessness that bears on Claire's shoulders like an anvil. A military camp is not meant to be so dull, or directionless -- nor its leaders so incompetent, nor its purpose so misguided. She sniffs again, and realizes she is frowning.

She looks up, distracted by a peal of laughter. It comes from beyond Claire herself, from the small clearing between their tent and the old stone wall leading up to the Prince's quarters.

In the clearing, her husband stands, having spent the better part of the last half hour teaching Fergus how to throw a decent punch. Fergus is not terrible, more or less, but a bit too determined a student, and somewhat comically dwarfed by his instructor-cum-opponent. Claire does not need to have been observing the details of the exchange to know how Jamie must have directed the boy's lanky limbs, firm and unindulgent but gentle all the same. By this point, though, the exercise has devolved into a bizarre game of tag. They are both laughing, slipping in the grass, energized like Claire has not seen them in a while. Jamie's hair brightens the dull grey of the winter afternoon.

"Weel, jest as good it's a metaphor." This is Rupert speaking, behind her.

"What's it a metaphor for, though?"

"Is no' that hard to ken, Angus, ye cannae be that much a dunce."

Claire's fingers tighten over her tools.

"Hmph."

She turns around, not quite startled. Murtagh has slouched over, as she has come to expect him to do, and is inspecting her tiny scalpel like he might a dull dirk. She is half expecting that he offer to sharpen it. Instead, he only looks up at her, expression shrewd and knowing under his thick set brows.

"Ye alright, lass?" he asks, and right at the end of it looks beyond her, at Jamie and their boy.

Claire finds that she does not have an answer to give.

[octopiys]

Ghost meets the Mactavishes.

(Spoiler for chapter 9, The Common Tongue of You Loving Me)

(CW for cursing... I think that's it?)

December 17th, 2022

The Mactavish Household

Fort Wiliam

Scottish Highlands

Lieutenant Ghost was no coward. He was not one to run in the face of a fight, on the brink of a war.

Lieutenant Ghost was never scared.

But bloody fuckin' hell, Simon Riley was.

The Mactavish family cottage was much larger than he imagined. Not that he was imagining some little forest home where only his mother lived, definitely not, but the size of this cottage was... astounding. Cottage... probably wasn't even the best word for it.

He wasn't scared! He kept telling himself that as Johnny dragged him up the icy steps, practically bouncing as they wound their way up the path. More of... on edge? Don't- don't tell anyone that, though-

Soap made a show of knocking on the door, rocking back and forth on his heels. His mohawk was hidden beneath one of Ghost's beanies, his throat underneath a scarf and sweater, but his hands were ungloved as he clutched Ghost's.

Simon, on the other hand, was almost as bundled as he could possibly be. His hoodie pulled up, his mask(not the balaclava, but Roach had a black gaiter to spare, bless him), scarves, jackets, gloves, the whole nine yards. Not everything he wore was black, much to Soap's delight. The scarf was a bright yellow! ....but that was about it.

"Johnny-" Simon started nervously, taking a step back as they waited for the door to open.

"Nuh uh, ye fockin' Brit, ye aren't bailin' outta this 'un!" Soap pulled him back as the door unlocked with a click. Ghost's eyes widened in a sudden regret, and the door swung open. He quickly closed them, pretending and wishing that he was anywhere but there.

A lot of things happened at once. A stifled gasp from whoever was in the doorway, a cheer from his Scot, the warmth suddenly missing from the palm of his hand, more excited scottish chattering, and he almost slipped on the ice.

Someone dragged him inside the home, and every muscle in his body screamed against it, but it was every fiber he had to keep going, his eyes still squeezed shut.

There was a lot of indecipherable talking, he found. English, a bit of Gaelic, and whatever crossed in between, he had a headache ready, but he wouldn't dare complain. After all, he had signed up for this.

Literally.

There was a light poke to his side, and Johnny hissed in his ear, "They're tryin' ta say hello, ye eedjit!"

Ashamed, his eyes snapped back open and he offered a hesitant wave. In front of him stood a shorter, plump woman, with mousy brown hair that just barely reached her shoulders. Her face was lined with age, and crow's feet, a tell tale sign that this was indeed Soap's mother. They had the same nose, same eyes, he noted.

Behind her stood a younger, blonde woman, who beamed enthusiastically at him. He tried to reach for a smile, but was extremely worried it came off as more of a grimace. This must've been Darcy. Soap's... oldest.... sister? Younger, but eldest? There was a lot to keep track of on the car ride here. She was married, he knew, her husband at her side, with kids, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Two faces peeked in curiously from a doorway, one a boy, platinum blond, the other a girl, with mousy brown hair like her mother, but cropped very short. They scattered when they realized they had been spotted. Those must have been the twins.

A few seconds had past in awkward silence, before he cleared his throat. "Uh- Hello, I'm-" A look of panic crossed his face. He had rehearsed many things in his head on the way here, but now that the time had come, he didn't actually know how to introduce himself. Would it be Ghost? Riley? Or.... "I'm Simon. It's nice to meet you all-"

He looked to Soap, hoping sincerely that he didn't come off as choked, nervous, or... any of the other emotions he was feeling that he couldn't decipher. But Johnny was grinning like a madman.

The family looked delighted with his measly attempts at conversation, and almost immediately swarmed him. There was no way he'd be able to keep up with their conversations, but he managed to catch a few good words.

The twins admired from afar, unsure of whether to join them or not. Darcy was saying something to Soap, before hugging him. She must've muttered something in his ear, because he burst out laughing and gave him a light shove. She couldn'tve much younger than Johnny.

Her husband tried as much to restrain her, before giving up and retreating to the kitchen.

Simon didn't even know his name.

A few other people joined them in the entryway, but Simon tried to not take as much notice. There was a lot going on. He felt overwhelmed.

"So yer Si? The one tha' my Johnny boy talks abut in his letters all the tiyme?" His mother started, a look in her eyes that he couldn't identify.

His hands broke into a sweat, and he balled them into fists, then out again nervously. "I'd- well, I'd assume so, Ma'am..." Did Soap know any other Simons?

The woman grinned. "Aye, I'll thank ye fer that. He's a bit much, ainnee? Ye seem like a good choice fer 'im!" Her voice was low, soothing, he thought as his face erupted red. "Yer a big boy, can hold yer own." She looked at Soap, for a moment, then back to him. Like she was waiting for approval.

Soap noticed after a few seconds, coming to his rescue.

His hand dipped around Simon's waist, pulling him close to his side. Public affection? What's that?

Johnny watched him closely, thoroughly enjoying how his skin turned even more pink beneath his gaiter as his eyes shot him a look of silent pleading.

Oh shit, he forgot that Ghost doesn't know how to hold a proper conversation. With anyone else, he could've tried, but with Johnny's mother? Forget about it.

"Oh, shite- Ma, this is Simon, Simon this-"

Mother Mactavish cut him off. "Aye, son, we got ourselves past tha' 'un. Do ye have yer things? Ye hungry?" She looked directly at Simon, and Soap realized that his only purpose was to make Ghost more comfortable.

"Er- Our things are in the car, but I thought-"

The conversation continued as Darcy walked up to Soap.

"Scored yerself a proper brit husband, aye?" There was a mischievous grin on her face as she nudged him.

"Fock off, Darcy, we're not tied up-" He protested through the side of his mouth.

"Awh, ye've gone all housewife on us!" She insisted and he kicked her in the boot, leading his mother to trail off in her sentence and glare at them both.

"Darcy, git an' find the twins, dontcha have better ta do than bein' a scunner ta yer brother?" She swatted her away, but Darcy only laughed, greeting Simon warmly before Mother Mactavish shooed her off. "A bairn, still, ah swear- anyways, boys, go git yer bags, dinners almost done an' then ah'll introduce ye to the others."

Simon nodded, and Soap hid his smirk well. The Lieutenant, no, his partner's jaw was almost completely dropped beneath his gaiter. Ghost was very expressive behind his mask, one of the more plausible reasons as to why he wore it. Johnny tugged him back outside to their rental car.

"So- they're a lot, ainee?" Soap half joked, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Simon was quiet for a moment. "They're very... you."

Soap paused. That wasn't what he was expecting.

"In- in a good way! Not... Well, I wasn't expecting- fuck, I don't know- Soap, shut me up-"

Soap kissed him sharply, over the gaiter. Ghost froze, and Johnny almost laughed. "Yer doolally, L.t." He said, completely straightfaced as he opened the trunk of their car where their suitcases lay.

"....what in the bloody fuck-"

"Yer doolally, bit ah loue ye." It was growing harder to contain his laughter with Simon's increasingly confused eyes.

"I don't- please, Johnny, I just want english-"

"Och, English!" He snarked, heaving Simon's suitcase out of the trunk. "Aye think you're crayzee, Simon, but ah- fuck- but aye love yoou." The other case landed with a thump. He went to lift his up, but Simon smacked him away quietly. "Proper gentleman now, are ye?"

"Shut up." Simon was hiding his face beneath his hoodie, but Soap could tell he was a blushing mess beneath it. "Your English is terrible. I almost prefer the gibberish."

A smile broke out across his face as Ghost lifted both suitcases with ease. "Ye prefer the gibberish!? Gibberish?!?"

"I said 'almost.'" Ghost slid a little on the ice and he paused to steady himself. "I do enjoy understandin' you though-"

Soap was still caught up in the fact that the brit called his beautiful language gibberish. "Well- well, yer ma's gibberish!"

Simon stopped at the top of the steps. "My mum's dead, Soap."

"Awh-" There was a moment that Soap genuinely felt bad, but then he saw Ghost's devilish smirking eyes. "Och, fuck ye, ye can't pull the dead mum card and win e'erytime-"

"Yes I can. Get the door for me?" He shifted the weight of their cases, and Soap grumbled to himself, opening the door for him. Simon waited inside, and Johnny looked at him strangely.

"What're ye waitin' on?"

"... I don't know where I'm going."

"Oh, shite, sorry-"

Simon ended up actually meeting Darcy, whom he was right about. Her husband, Nathan, who was Irish. He was shorter than Ghost, with dark auburn hair. He was in the navy, which Soap had grimaced at, but hid it well. He met their three kids, James, their oldest at ten, Thomas, the middle child, (who had just turned six he was informed), and had taken a great interest in Ghost's hoodie, and Blair, their youngest and only girl at the age of three. She wore pig tails, and already had a face smeared in mashed potatoes. He encountered the twins, too, when they weren't sneaking around and they all sat down to dinner. Jordan, the platinum blond, and Rose, the girl with short brown hair. She had odd earrings, he took note of, but didn't comment on it. He was told that there were a few people missing out on dinner, but Soap later told him that they wouldn't show despite Mother Mactavish's pleading.

Ghost may not have been sure of what half the dinner was, but it was better, much better, than anything he could've ever made. Probably some of the best food he's ever had, excuse the One-Four-One's-giving. The dinner was strangely quiet, but he paid no mind. Most likely because everyone was eating, right?

"So-" Jordan, who sat near the end of the table started, and Ghost looked up from his plate, wiping his mouth and tugging the gaiter back down, suddenly extremely self conscious. Soap shot a warning glance, but the older teen waved it off. "You ever killed anyone?"

"Jordie!" Rose lightly smacked him, and Soap's hand cautiously moved over Ghost's thigh. He felt too many eyes on him, but... I mean, they all knew, right?

"I... Have, yes." He cleared his throat nervously. What was the point in lying? They all knew what Johnny did, at least, for the most part. "But only someone who was trying to hurt other people." Or... someones. Many someones.

Jordan nodded, satisfied at his answer. There was something new in the boy's eyes. Approval.

"Why doya wear that thing on yer face?" James asked, gesturing to his mask. "Ye like Spiderman? I like Spiderman, I have a mask too, see?" The boy pulled said mask from his pocket, and put it on, grinning widely at him.

There was something warm in his chest. "Er- I've-" He didn't know how to formulate a proper answer. So he settled on, "Yeah, I like Spiderman."

He looked up from his plate to find everyone watching him. His skin prickled almost uncomfortably, but then James tried to eat something through his mask, and the moment was up.

"The food is very good, Mrs. Mactavish." Ghost said quietly, and the woman at the head of the table beamed at him. She looked like Johnny, but he was still worried.

'Are you okay?' He mouthed, and Simon gave a slight nod.

And dinner continued. And it was delightful.

One by one, they all finished, the children occasionally asking other questions which he answered honestly. There was no use in lying to a child. They didn't deserve that. But he did sometimes water down the truth. Even Soap was grinning by the end of it, until Ghost slipped up and called him by his call sign, to which Rose perked up and asked why he was called that.

"Because he's-" Watered down truth. "Very good at cleaning out houses." Simon settled on, and Johnny buried his face in his hands, ears a bright red.

"Proper housewife." Darcy said with a laugh.

Soap shot a spoonful of mashed potato at her, shouting to "Shut yer trap, Darce, I'll tell em about yer table incident."

Her mouth dropped open, but there was a mischievous glint shared in both their eyes. Before anything else happened, or Ghost could ask what the table incident was, Mrs. Mactavish cleared the room of everyone else pretty quickly.

Ghost took up a kitchen job in washing dishes as muffled, yet playful shouting echoed from the dining room.

A small hand tugged on his sleeve, and he jumped, splashing water all over himself. "Ah, sh-" Oh no, a child. "Shhh-ooot. Dang it."

"Mister Simon, sir-?" Thomas, Darcy's middle child, who he noticed didn't speak during dinner at all, had started anxiously. The boy was wearing a hat, something else he hadnt noticed earlier.

"Hey, kid...?"

"Yknow, ye don't have ta cover yer face 'cus of the spots, yeah?" The little boy looked up at him, and Simon was confused.

"Whaddya mean?"

"The white spots! See-" He took his hat off, revealing a sharp white streak in his hair, along with a few white patches of skin above his brow. "I have it too! An'- an' i dont want ye ta hide it, cus me ma says its cool! And if ah got it, an' you got it- then we're almost twins! B- Both cool!" The boy twisted his fingers nervously, dropping his big eyes down to the floor.

Simon swallowed the lump in his throat, and pulled his hood off his head with shaking hands. "... Thanks, kid."

Simon was on his knees now, his jacket only slightly wet now from the dish water, and the kid grinned open mouthed and reached for his hair. "Twins! Twins!" He cheered.

Thomas reminded him of Joseph, with his brother's name. It was so terribly ironic.

But for once, this was a good thing.

Little hands grabbed the white torch in the center of a wave of light brown, but they were gentle, and Simon laughed.

He didn't see Soap, or Darcy standing in the doorway, or how Mrs. Mactavish tried to peek through then with tears in her eyes. Or how Soap would step away, dragging the two with him so that they could have the moment, with tears he fought to hold of his own.

It was okay. Not finished, not by a long shot, but it would be okay.

And Simon could heal.

And Johnny could heal.

Maybe all Ghost needed was a couple of Scots to help him out. God, Soap will never let him live this down.

[moniquill]

Stupid Ask time! (Maybe)

I bought your Nampeshiweisit off a center-display in a shop, followed you a hot hot minute ago, and halfway through reading (and adoring adoring adoring) it, THEN I realized you wrote it!

Checking through your blog I realize now that you promo your own book often, but I'm just an eedjit who missed all of those posts. Maybe a fantastic serendipity that you and your book slipped into my life completely separately!

I read it often at work, and I've got 3 coworkers who want to read it when I'm done

❤️

[conflagrate]

Jujutsu Kaisen 27

ECXCUSE ME WHATSF

These two eedjits!

whoopsie daisee got stabbed by (the other) Fushiguro

Yeap, lives up to the GURO part of Fushiguro

Serving Bruce Lee looks

OOOOF

Goodbye Riko, we hardly knew ya

HERE WE GO GETO

[seraphsfire]

hey y’all i know i said i was going to report back on rings of power and i knew it obviously at this point wasn’t using any lore from the text so instead I was curious what their plan was and I didn’t expect this but they fucking ruined Hobbits. I’m. Legitimately angry, which is why i just want to kind of. warn people. I don’t anticipate really posting much more about it on this blog from now on.

I dont’ mean “ruined” as in “they look stupid”. This is beyond that. They made these brandyfoots cruel.

These hobbits live in groups of caravans and are nomadic. (and as those of you who have seen footage from the first two episodes know they are also extremely dirty and have super fake irish accents which is a conversation someone less tired can tackle)

Turns out with the brandyfoots if your caravan (or you) are too slow, they literally leave you behind to die. This is an issue because Nori’s dad has a broken ankle and her and her stepmom are legitimately afraid they’ll be left behind.

Before the hobbits begin each next migration they will sit there and read out the names of the people they left behind. This is called (and i’m being 100% truthful here) being “de-caravan-ed” 

they drink and look sad about most of the people that were de-caravaned and then a name of a hobbit who was left behind because bees chased him (???) is read and then they all start laughing and say “ha ha he was a bit of an eedjit.”

Anyway all I can describe the feeling of seeing a bunch of hobbits who live by a creed of strict social darwinism and leave people behind to die and then laughing about it as taking extreme psychic damage. 

hobbits are supposed to be good and wholesome and organized around community and family. That’s what hobbits are; i don’t have to tell any of you that because it’s common knowledge. The meanest hobbits get is stealing stuff. Maybe they’ll try to play it off as “oh those people didn’t die! they’re just alone forever!” but if they did that then it doesn’t make sense that they were crying about these people and repeatedly saying that Staying On The Trail Together is the “only way” brandyfoots survived. 

I suppose it could be some sort of obscure part of tolkien lore that i’ve forgotten about some bands of hobbits leaving people behind to die when they were traveling west. If so, please tell me what it says/where because im praying they did Not just go and do this for no reason. 

I was hanging on desperately by a thread hoping for at least internal consistency in this show. I wanted to see some cool scenery maybe, but i think atp ive given up. For instance, Galadriel is rescued by a ship full of numenoreans-- which she doesn’t recognize despite their extremely distinctive armor and ship and clothing and colors. I was like okay whatever. Then they come through the fog to numenor and she’s like OMG ive heard of this place! then later she’s explaining to this guy about how “our people were like kin for generations.” 

........but she doesn’t even know what the numenoreans look like???????she couldn’t even guess based on what they looked like and where in the ocean they were???

another instance of her (and the other elves who couldn’t figure it out) being incredibly stupid is that mark of sauron left on finrod is apparently literally just a map of mordor / the southlands, where the elves were having trouble with orc rumors and stuff already. their wisest elves didn’t even guess this for thousands of years. i could go on and on about that but since they’re obviously not following any of the text, pointing that out over and over again is kind of pointless. Anyway. I know i complained a lot about the first two episodes but episode three was somehow worse? at least the lack of internal consistency within the show itself seemed more blatant this time. And then of course the hobbits having this facade of cute dirtyness (??) but actually being cruel. I think i actually would have minded it less if they had a group of hobbits that were blatantly cruel because you could say they were affected by something. But this is somehow more disturbing. Idk. 

[ace-and-ranty]

The bathroom subplot in Hidden Figures is dumb for many reasons, but the top one I can’t get over it is... 

Why did her boss vandalize the colored bathroom sign? In a building that, as far as we all know, only has black people in it? How does that fucking help Katharine, you eedjit? You absolute buffoon? If you want a physical symbol to show she is welcome to use the bathrooms at your building ---which is what she actually needs--- then you should be smashing the “whites only” sign at your building. 

What the fuck are you breaking a bathroom miles away for. What the fucking hell does that even mean.

[mega2wheellife]

eedjit

I am

have been a fool

over anything

of importance

women money

motorcycles cars

just about anything

I’ve ever bought

(or sold)

as there’s always

a sale later

some place

offering discounts

I never know about

but the bigger regrets

were over women

& motorcycles

my early bikes

are now

worth high thousands

than the pennies I paid

& I let them

trickle through my fingers

like hot sand

how that applies

to women

is up to you

& the ladies involved

to understand

neil benbow

[pastelchosen]

“GOD DAMN IT SAM, I TOLD YOU IT WAS A FUCKING TRAP YOU FOOKIN’ EEDJIT-“

[astralnexus]

voted for you because Friend :)

friend is stored in the magic eedjit (me)

[handbagman]

oh my god tumblr doesnt have like last post context i look like a goddamn EEDJIT now

[dchan87]

She should still get plastered and shame the eedjits who refused to sign again