#even though I don't really understand cricket

[tothemoonandbacklove]

WHY ARE ALL MY BESTIES CSK FANS AOEJFMFPZNSKDKFK😭😭😭😭😭😭

mere saath rcb ko kaun support karega😔😔😔

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

an engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. what could go wrong?

pairing - childhood bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. cheating. alcohol mention. so much angst… i’d apologise but i’m not sorry.

word count - 3.7k

author’s note - get it? like, something borrowed, something blue… because it’s a wedding… I was half asleep when that popped into my head and I thought it was perfect, personally. I don’t condone cheating irl, but also… it’s your life, do what you want ;)

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! so, if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

The moonlight shines down, glinting off the diamond ring settled on your left hand.

Everyone's dancing, singing, laughing, enjoying each other's company in a rare moment of complete happiness. People keep grabbing you, hugging you, reaching for you to offer their congratulations.

Isn't it just so wonderful? Two people completely in love. Ah, to be young again.

The fairy lights twinkle where they're hung across the garden, acres of grass just begging to be decorated. You'd initially protested this venue - a huge country house in the middle of nowhere, with countless rooms and a huge courtyard.

It's just our engagement party, not our wedding. We don't have to be so extravagant.

This isn't extravagant - not for my family, anyway. Just say yes. I'll plan the entire thing, you don't have to worry.

And so you did. Say yes. To his proposal, the venue, anything he suggests. You can't find it in you to say no, to argue, to fight for what you really want. It isn't worth it.

"There you are, my soon to be wife!"

You take a deep breath, pretending the sound of his voice doesn't make you feel sick.

"My soon to be husband."

He can't see the grimace on your face, even though it's there, loud and clear. He can't read you, has never been able to.

"A car has just pulled up. You expecting anyone else?"

You are, but you won't let yourself get your hopes up. So you lie.

"Don't think so."

"Okay, well... you'll save me a dance, won't you? My mom wants to take some pictures."

You nod reluctantly, patting his arm with as much affection as you can muster.

"I think your brother is calling you."

You direct his attention to where his frat boy siblings are, hollering and yelling for him to come over.

"My guys!"

He departs as quickly as he came, leaving a wave of too strong cologne in his wake.

You take a walk from the garden to the front of the house, curiosity peaked. You scan the parking lot, and your heart stops when you spot the car in the corner.

A burgundy 1983 BMW 733i.

He's here.

You spin on your heel, searching almost frantically, when you hear someone clear their throat. You turn around, and there he is.

Leaning against a pillar, stood in a dress shirt and tailored trousers, hair perfectly styled.

Steve Harrington.

You're half convinced you're dreaming. The world moves around you in a daze, crickets chirping and wind blowing gently. You lock eyes with him, and can't fight the grin that spreads across your face.

“Don’t fret, baby. The life of the party has arrived.”

You scoff but almost run towards him, tripping over in your heels. He meets you halfway, arms snaking around your waist to keep you steady as you wrap yourself around him.

He smells the same. Cologne, spearmint, a faint note of diesel from the car. He smells like home.

Past home, you remind yourself. Not anymore. You have a new home now, with a soon to be husband that doesn’t understand you and a soon to be family that is built on morally questionable money and fake niceties. Steve’s a person of your past, a distant memory, a fading dream.

Except he’s stood right in front of you.

He's staring at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place. You’ve never seen it before.

"I didn't think you'd come," you whisper, begging yourself to pull away from his embrace. He doesn't let you go far, keeping his arms around your back as if he's worried you'll bolt at any given moment.

"And miss my best friends engagement party? Never."

"Best friends. We're not five anymore, Steve."

You roll your eyes, punching his arm lightly.

"What, I can't call you my best friend anymore?"

He picks you up, spinning you across the gravel of the parking lot. You're dizzy with it, the world passing by you in streaks of shapes and colours.

"Steve!"

"What?" he laughs. "You don't like this, best friend? What's the problem, best friend? Are you dizzy, best friend?"

"Put me down!"

Steve throws you over his shoulder as you both spin, strong hands preventing you from falling.

"Put me down, Steve, please - okay, okay! You're my best friend! Call me best friend all you want, please!"

Steve's crying with laughter, out of breath and rosy cheeked. He places you back on the ground, smoothing your hair down with rough palms.

You inhale carefully, grabbing onto his biceps as an anchor as you gauge your bearings. You look up at him, and lose your breath all over again.

Chest heaving, tongue darting over his bottom lip, hair mussed but still perfectly styled. He looks a picture, an ancient painting, a statue carved from the finest marble.

"I never want you to stop calling me your best friend," you whisper, so quietly that the breeze takes it.

"Then I won't."

Your hand slips down Steve's arm and into his, fingers linking gently.

"I missed you."

"I missed you so much, Birdy. You have no idea."

The childhood nickname shoots a lightning bolt through your heart, shiver running up your back involuntarily.

The two of you would sit and watch cartoons for hours on the floor of Steve's living room, pressing your little heads together to see the TV better. He'd joke that you sounded like Tweety Bird, all sweet and lispy. The nickname was born that day, and stuck ever since.

"How was California?"

"So good. I'll tell you all about it later. How's your engagement party?"

"It's good."

You try to sound convincing but your voice cracks, giving you away instantly. Busted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's a few people you know back there - from school, the neighbourhood, family. They'll all wanna see you."

"I'll socialise later. Wanna talk to you first."

The intensity in his voice makes you nervous. You realise you're still holding his hand, so you drop it, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You didn't RSVP."

"Didn't get your invite. Travelling."

"I called your mom. She said she'd tell you."

"She didn't."

"She told me she did."

The crickets continue to chirp, gentle breeze blowing your hair into your face. You look at Steve pointedly, unwilling to be the first to break.

"What are you doing here, Steve?"

"It's your engagement party."

"So you've said."

"I haven't seen you in months."

"I tried to call, but you stopped answering."

"Birdy-"

"I'm just saying, Steve. We haven't spoken in months, I feel like you've been point blank ignoring me, I've had to come to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be at this party or the wedding and then all of a sudden you just show up? Unannounced?"

"I know how this looks."

"Do you?"

You're not entirely sure where all of this anger has come from, but you can't seem to tamp it down. It's bubbling, simmering, threatening to spill over the surface dramatically any second.

"I wasn't sure I could do this. Any of it."

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch you make a mistake."

You scoff, laughing at him in disbelief. He's never been one to sugarcoat things, and usually, it's one of your favourite things about him. But not today.

"Don't you fucking dare, Steve."

"Birdy, be real. The guy is a prick. And you want to marry him? You're a smart girl, the smartest person I know. You've got to see that none of this makes any sense."

"So you showed up here to yell at me? Criticise my life choices? Thanks, Steve. Thanks a million. Some best friend, huh?"

"I've done nothing but support you."

"You ran away! Across the country! How is that support?"

"Fine, maybe I can't support straight up stupidity!"

"Am I smart or am I stupid? Which one is it?"

Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he watches you pace the gravel in front of him. You're vibrating with fury now. It's something he's seen before. Something he knows how to navigate better than anyone. He knows you. He knows you need an outlet here.

He also knows that you're never more hyperaware than when you're mad. So, he takes his opportunity.

"I came here to tell you not to marry him."

You stop dead in your tracks, shaking your head in denial.

"...Why, Steve? Why would you say that?"

"You know why."

"No."

You take a deep breath and will yourself not to cry. In the garden, you can hear people laughing, singing along to some 70s pop song you've never liked. You pray silently that no one comes looking for you.

You take a step closer to Steve, standing up straight.

"Say it."

He looks at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden defiance.

"Say it, Steve. If you came all this way to say it, then fucking say it."

Steve steps into you, closing down the space. You don't move, determined not to back down.

"You're going to hate me if I say it, Birdy."

"I don't give a fuck anymore. Say. It."

Steve runs his tongue over his bottom lip, never once breaking eye contact with you. The silence seems to stretch on infinitely, thick and blanketing like fresh snow falling.

"I'm in love with you."

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. You take a deep breath and try to stay on two feet, wobbling where you stand. Finally, you find your voice.

"Fuck you, Steve Harrington. Fuck. You."

He laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Yeah."

"How dare you? How dare you come to my engagement party and start confessing your feelings? You could have told me anytime, but you chose today?"

He goes to interrupt but you hold a finger up, effectively shutting him up.

"How long, huh? How long have you been in love with me?"

Steve's trembling, chest stuttering with the force of his confession.

"For as long as I can remember."

You haven't looked away from him once. You're frozen in place, suspended in the moment.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now, Birdy?"

"Yeah, Steve, I am. Because I don't believe you. You're King Steve, ladies man, notorious player. You were never seen with the same girl twice in high school. Don't you remember? Sneaking into my room at night, whispering under my blankets about your latest hookup, telling me all the dirty details?"

"I remember," he whispers, voice laced with something like sadness. "Of course I remember."

"You don't get to tell me this now. It's not fair, Steve."

"Why not, huh?"

"Because I've always been in love with you! Always."

Steve stumbles backwards, dizzy and disorientated.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now?" you laugh in disbelief. "I've always been in love with you. Everyone knows it. My parents, your parents, all of our friends... I think the goddamn mailman knew, Steve!"

"I didn't."

"Blissful ignorance," you chuckle humourlessly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew it wouldn't change anything."

Steve's eyes go wide as he keels over, as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

"Wouldn't change anything? Birdy, it... I-I can assure you it... It would have changed everything."

You both look at each other, breathless and riddled with confusion. There's something flowing through your veins, something unintelligible, something unrecognisable.

"Why would you do this today?" you choke out, sobs threatening to break free. "Of all the days, Steve."

"Because I'm going insane!" he yells, voice raising. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't function knowing that you're going to marry a man you don't love. It's ruining my life, Birdy!"

"You don't think it's ruining mine? Huh?"

You take a breath, very aware that if you shout anymore, multiple people are going to come running from the garden.

"This is selfish, Steve. And you're not selfish."

He looks down at you, bottom lip wobbling.

"I am when it comes to you. Always have been."

"You're breaking my fucking heart, baby."

You choke out the words before bursting into tears, sobs wracking your frame. Steve grabs your hand and guides you to the stone steps, sitting you down next to him. Against better judgment, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He smells so familiar, so comforting, that it only makes you cry harder. You bury your face in his chest, fingers tangled into his dress shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he's mumbling. "I'm so fucking sorry. I had to. I really had to."

"I know," you're muttering back. "I know you did. I know."

You lift your head to look at him only to find he's crying too, years of emotion dripping down his face. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, your heart shattering at the sight in front of you.

Steve's only made you cry once before. In ninth grade, you'd stupidly assumed that the two of you would go to the prom together. Steve had made a joking comment about always being your date, and you hadn't questioned it. Then, one Friday night, he'd snuck into your room to tell you excitedly that he'd asked Lizzy Buchanan to the dance, and she'd said yes. You'd burst into tears immediately, much to your teenage embarrassment, willing yourself to play your cards closer to your chest. Steve had crumbled instantly, crying because you were.

That's how it's always been. He cries, you cry. You cry, he cries. He's just not usually the cause of the tears.

"I'm sorry, Birdy," he chokes. "This was the only way."

"I know," you soothe, rubbing circles into his wet cheeks with your fingers. "I know. You're not the villain here, Steve. You never were."

His eyes are trained to yours, silent communication passing back and forth. The two of you have always had the ability to practically read each other's minds.

You're not sure who moves first - perhaps it's the universe, pulling you together by the strings woven into your chests - but suddenly your lips are melded together, moving as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Steve's clinging to you as if you're his life source, a man in the desert without water.

You tangle your fingers into his hair to tug him impossibly closer, eyes fluttering when he groans, deep and visceral. He spreads his legs and pulls you between them, both of you slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Your tears are dancing onto each other's cheeks, mixing like rain water and gasoline.

Suddenly, you yank yourself from his grip, standing up and smoothing down your silky dress. Steve prepares himself for the yelling, the screaming, a slap that he most definitely deserves.

Instead, he's met with you, chest heaving, skin warm, eyes heavy. You're looking at him expectantly.

"Come with me," you croak, voice hoarse and untrustworthy.

You grab his hand and slink through the front door, up the grand staircase and into a room with a heavy oak door. He follows you obediently, confused but completely trusting.

It's your hotel room. A marriage suite. A spacious, windowed room, with makeup scattered across the vanity and suitcases half unpacked on the floor. The bed is still made, which makes Steve breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn't had you here. The room isn't marred.

The minute you shut the door you're back on Steve, shoving him up against the hard wood. He grabs handfuls of your ass and spins you around, backing you into the cold surface behind you for stability. He lifts you easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he kisses you again.

Steve trails his lips down your neck as you rock your hips, desperate to find some friction. You whine gently, fingers tugging at his hair a little rougher than intended to get your message across.

"What do you need, honey?" he murmurs, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere.

"You."

Steve throws his head back as he groans, exposing his throat to you. You waste no time in nipping up the expanse of it, sinking your teeth in with no regard for the consequences. You're too far gone now, not worried about looking back.

Walking backwards, Steve tosses you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce off of it. He unbuttons and strips his shirt, pulling his belt from the loops as he goes. You can only lie there and watch, wondering when your best friend became less of a boy and more of a man. He's all corded muscle and tanned skin, freckled and perfect.

Steve crawls between your legs, kissing you tenderly.

"Wanna take my time with you," he murmurs between kisses. "Can't right now. Will, though. Promise."

You feel as if there's electricity crackling across your skin, pulsing and alive. It's never felt like this with anyone. It never will again.

"Promise?"

You can't help the slight insecurity that colours your voice, young and unsure.

"I promise, Birdy. Cross my heart."

He takes your hand in his and places it over his chest, as if to solidify his point.

You nod and kiss him again, desperate to have every inch of his skin on yours.

Steve shimmies your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him somewhere. Shucking his trousers off, he pushes your dress up and around your waist, groaning when he gets a good look at you.

"Prettiest girl in the world. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."

"And you do?"

"I'll spend every day for the rest of time proving that I do."

With that he's pushing into you, sliding home with one smooth thrust. Both of you gasp, grabbing onto the other person to use them as an anchor.

"Please, Steve," you're whispering. "Give me everything. I want it all."

"You've got no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

"I do," you laugh, "I do. Because I've been waiting just as long."

Steve chuckles and leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to memorise the way you taste. There's remnants of champagne on your lips, along with the minty lip gloss you've loved for as long as he can remember.

He wastes no time setting a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured. You rake your nails down his back, clawing at this skin, praying silently that you leave your mark. Little do you know, you staked your claim on him a long, long time ago.

"S'good, Stevie," you whine. "Fuck, so good."

"Does he make you come? Does he even try?"

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes when Steve laughs dryly.

"Didn't think so. He can't make you feel the way I can, baby. He'll never be able to."

His words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, red hot heat building at the pit of your stomach. Steve places one hand at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it causing your eyes to roll back.

Your sweat slicked skin is plastered to his, every inch of you pressed together. Steve leans down to rest his forehead against yours, panting into each other's mouths.

"I love you," he breathes, hips getting quicker. "I love you. Fuck, I love you."

"I love you," you sob, back arching as you find your release. Stars dance across your vision as you tighten around Steve, nails leaving crescent moons on the skin of his shoulders.

Steve's right there with you, back flexing and fingers leaving their prints on your hips as he groans. It's the prettiest sound you've ever heard. Your mind loops it for you, playing it on repeat as he collapses his weight on top of your body.

"I meant it," he mutters against your damp chest. "I do love you. Always have."

You kiss his forehead gently, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"I meant it too. I love you. You taught me what love was in the first place, Steve."

He leans up to press his lips to yours, tender and honey sweet.

You realise the gravity of the situation all of a sudden, your heart rate increasing in Steve's ear.

"Hey, hey. Birdy. Don't panic, okay? We'll figure this out."

You think for a moment, weighing up your options in your head. Unexpectedly, you're jumping out of bed, fixing your dress and slipping on your underwear and heels.

"What are you doing, babe?"

You adjust your hair and swipe your fingers under your eyes to salvage your makeup in the mirror, turning to face the man who's now dressing himself frantically.

"Have you had a drink tonight?"

"No, I drove here."

"Perfect."

You grab your purse and stand by the door, waiting for him to follow. When he looks at you in pure confusion, you chuckle.

"Let's run away."

"Birdy... what?"

"Steve. You heard me. Let's. Run. Away."

He scans your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he finds is love. Adoration. Assuredness. That's all the confirmation he needs.

He runs at you, picking you up and spinning you around. Grabbing his hand, the two of you sneak down the stairs, slipping out of the front door as quietly as possible.

You throw yourself into the front seat of his BMW, vibrating with adrenaline as Steve starts up the engine. It roars to life, and you're very aware that people are going to come looking for you.

But you don't care.

Steve links your fingers, resting your intertwined hands in his lap as he reverses. You go to look back towards the garden, but you stop yourself.

"Can't move forward if you're always looking back, right?"

Steve laughs, leaning over to kiss your warm cheek.

"Truer words have never been spoken, Birdy."

He brings the car to a stop before you begin down the winding driveway, looking at you carefully.

"You ready?"

You take a deep breath, grinning at him.

"I've been ready since we were five years old."

He smiles at you, bright and blinding, and there's no doubt in your mind that you've made the right choice.

Can't move forward if you keep looking back, after all.

@enigmaticloki @joekeerysslut @s-trawberryv-eins @wintressoldier36 @mangomastani

[guillotinna]

I keep seeing these Gen z is task force 141 and I wanna join

Anytime you use a computer, you do that stupid movie hacker trope of exaggerated typing and say "I'm in"

Saying "POV" in front of sentences

In the group chat saying "1 like and I'll kms", liking your own message and then saying "damn guess I gotta"

I see a lot of these posts were Gaz and Soap would understand y/n....bffr, no those geezers would not

No one knows what the gen z kid is saying they just know it's probably not good

"You're telling me a shrimp fried this rice?"

You have a small photo you keep tucked in your chest pocket and after enough times seeing you looking lovingly at it, one of the guys asks who it is. Is it a s/o from back home? 😏😏

You say no and pull out a photo card of your fave singer and they're like ??? Really

One time during a particularly physical scuffle with the enemy, you get thrown to the ground and huff out "one hop this time" only to promptly tackle tf outta your assailant while saying "take it back now yall"

Reads everyone's zodiac charts except ghost bc he won't tell his birthday let alone the time he was born so you just make one up

Price calls a 6 am meeting to which you say "double it and give to the next person"

*Alexa, play teenagers by MCR*

If you had time describe the base, you'd say it smells like ball sweat, blood and war crimes which everyone took offense to for different reasons

Would absolutely get soaps doodles tattooed

Actually speaking of which, imagine getting caught giving yourself stick and pokes with a pen and being banned from using pens period

You'd be in a meeting with a #2 pencil

Ofc a gen z member would be absolutely feral which very little regard for their own safety much to the dismay of the others

Quoting "Oh these aren't homemade, they were made in a factory....a bomb factory......they're bombs." All the time around soap even though he has no idea what you're talking about

You don't spent too much alone time with ghost bc he likes quiet and you can't be alone with your thoughts which is why you lean more towards spending time with soap or gaz

I just like puns so I'm gonna add this but gen z love borgs (a customized gallon jug of alcohol that is usually given a name) and yours is appropriately named taskforce 1-borg-1

this is mainly for my americans but i know pretty much the whole world got beef with engl*nd: before you met Soap, you thought the entire 141 was en*lish so when you finally did meet him, you said "oh thank god" with a sigh

americans 🤝 scotts

making fun of english "people"

"Pull up in the monster, automobile gangsta With a bad bitch that came fr-" "....sergeant, comms off please"

you show Ghost WAP and he has to take a walk

*price yelling at gaz and soap*: KYLE GARRICK AND JOHN MACTAVISH GET IN HERE- Y/n: oop not the government name

Another for my US baddies: if your'e ever arguing with any of the guys, the nail in the coffin would be "and it's called soccer"

"one more like and i'll-" "enough!"

you call Price "ms. girl" and he could not be more confused

someone asks "do you serve?" and u reply "yah, serve cunt"

when asked why you decided to join the military you said something like: "well i didnt think i'd live past 18 so when I did, i ended up here".....crickets from the rest of the team

"good thing we only have showers on base because i would have already taken a toaster bath by now"

ask Gaz "no bitches?🤨" one more time see what happens

price: the enemies have taken civvies hostage and blocked off all exits and entrances to the town-" y/n: "omg tea"

Also calling price "capt. Save-a-hoe"....I wanna be saaaavvveddd ;)

If you took a shot every time you said "rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, I dive in her cervix", you'd be dead lmao

When asked if they like the military they'd say "it was either this or the psych ward so yah, I'll take it"

Quoting MPGIS constantly and no one even sort of knows what that is ("Crack. Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?")

Some detainee being interrogated is spilling some nonsense, so you hit them with "oh brother this guy stinks!" And then with the butt of your gun

"Little bad trini bitch but she mixed with China, real thick vagina, smuggle bricks to-" "SARGENT ENOUGH"

Falling asleep on team mates (minus ghost's) shoulders mostly because the most peace they get is when you're unconscious

*when y/n hears any slightly suggestive/dirty phrase*: what are we talking about 😏 (iykyk)

Same energy as: " born next to a nuclear power plant, has an IQ of 2 and was hit in the head with several Rocks as a child"

Vine quotes out the wazoo, it's just awful for the rest of the team lmao

Replying to everything with "on god?"

soap: "what are you 6?" y/n: "yah 6 inches deep in your mom".....you did not walk away from that unscathed to say the least...worth it tho

[cerise-on-top]

141 if reader gifted them a pet tortoise (or turtle if you prefer) :D /nf

— 🦗 (hi simon!!!!! yes i'm still here (and always will be)- i loved the post you did for my other request!! it was amazing (no duh) , love your writing style as always 💗 have a good day and no pressure!!!!! you don't have to do this or answer this ask either)

Hey, cricket anon! I'm glad you're still here, I was worried you wouldn't be :D Also, this is probably my favorite request I've ever worked on! I love turtles so much, it's unreal! And I love my favorite lads with my favorite animals! Nothing's better than the TF141 with a turtle or tortoise!!

TF141 Receiving a Pet Turtle from Reader

Price: Oh, bless your sweet heart. What could he possibly be doing with a little turtle, though? In fact, it won’t even leave its shell while he’s holding it. Sure, he could understand something like a dog, to keep him active, or a cat, to argue about food with, but a turtle? And yet, he’s completely enamored, even if he can barely see it. You say that it’s a box turtle, and it is rather pretty, he has to admit. It almost looks toxic with its red-ish, yellow-ish and black shell. But it shut itself in completely. As soon as you take it from his hands, it peeks out from its shell, staring at him. You’re holding it like a rather large burger, which he finds kind of funny. It’s a staring contest between the two of them at first, both of them just confused about the other. Price may claim that he has no use for a turtle, but you insist on him having it. You leave him with all the necessities to make sure it grows up to be a healthy specimen: worms and calcium. Naturally, with you being an expert in turtles, you help him out from time to time. Surprisingly, despite everything, it takes a liking to him fairly quickly. He’s very loving towards it, always feeding it just a worm or two too much, always giving it pats and whatnot. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sometimes brushed it with a toothbrush as well, making it dance a little bit. He was hesitant to love it at first, would he really be a good keeper for a turtle? But his worries were unfounded, his turtle loves him to bits. Sometimes he plays around with it too. Sometimes, it ignores him playing and just walks up to him. It has bitten his nose before, by the way. Sometimes, while he takes a nap, he lets it sleep on top of his chest. Yes, it’s peed on him before, but he still loves it dearly. I can see him naming it something like Shelly. He’s not too creative with names.

Gaz: He’d be ecstatic if you show him a turtle. He loves those little critters, they’re just so cute. He can name a few as well, so he immediately knows that you gave him a red-eared slider! But what should he do with it? When you tell him that it’s a gift from you to him, he grows a bit concerned. Would he really be able to take good care of his little turtle? On the same day, he immediately buys a rather big tank and sets it up for the little critter. He lets it explore around his home during the meantime, but he did attach a helium filled balloon to it so he wouldn’t lose it. He always keeps the tank clean, he always feeds it on time. Though, because he loves it so much, he might feed it a little too much from time to time. Sometimes he’ll argue with it that it shouldn’t be such a glutton. In all honesty, as soon as you told him that that turtle was his, he immediately became protective of it. It wasn’t scared of him either, he just has an aura of calm and love that makes animals trust him. Little Mikey was no exception to that either. Though, Gaz doesn’t know if Mikey is actually a male or a female. He just called it Mikey because he liked the name and thought it to be fitting. If Gaz could, then he’d give it so many kisses, but he can’t because of salmonella, so he settles for brushing it on the daily instead. It’s not uncommon for Gaz and Mikey to be relaxing on the couch together, watching TV. Yes, Gaz has watched Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with it, claiming that Mikey needed some good role models. Whenever he has guests over he proudly shows off little Mikey. It’s his pride and joy and he sends you pictures of it on the daily, showing you how much he’s thriving. When Gaz is sad, he just watches Mikey bask in the light of his little lamp. It makes him feel better. Sometimes, Gaz wishes he was a turtle too so he could do turtle things with Mikey, that’s how much he loves it.

Ghost: He feels neutral about most animals, aside from snakes, which he is deathly afraid of. So I think he wouldn’t want to take the little tortoise you’re offering him initially. Ghost doesn’t know anything about tortoises, so he’s certain he’d just kill it. Not that he’d get that attached to it in the first place, he’s got better things to do. The two of you make a deal that if the turtle isn’t being taken care of properly, you’ll come to retrieve it and take care of it instead of him. That’s the thing with Ghost, though: He always tries his best to appease the people he loves, no matter what. He wanted to appease you by taking good care of it. In his case, you gave him a somewhat endangered little critter, a hermann’s tortoise. Ghost doesn’t know that at first. Yes, the resident edgelord may pretend to not care about it too much at first, but he gets attached fairly easily. It’s just so small and so young and so fragile. His protector instincts are kicking in whenever he sees it. I mean, when he got it, it was smaller than a pack of cigarettes. However, under his care, it’s thriving. It grows into such a big and healthy specimen. Ghost bought several books on how to care for turtles and tortoises and he makes sure that it’s always fed and entertained. He named it Nike. One could argue that he named it after the Greek goddess, but he actually named it after the shoe company. He just took the first best thing he saw and decided that it made for a good name. Nike has fallen asleep in his hands before. Ghost is a very warm person with very warm hands. Besides, Nike felt comfortably cool in his hands, so he dared not to move and wake it up either. People may look at it, but no one but you and him are allowed to touch it. He cuddles it fairly often and it doesn’t seem to mind either. Whenever Ghost is home and in its field of view, it immediately crawls up to him. It loves him so dearly. It has escaped its enclosure before, but instead of running away it ran towards Ghost. He could never scold it, so he just wrapped it in a blanket and cuddled with it on the couch.

Soap: Soap was certain he could go for something bigger, but not too big. When you said you’d get him an animal, he expected something along the lines of a dog. He never would have considered a reptile. Sure, they’re cute, but what could he possibly do with something like that? Either way, back at home, he has a rather big yard and lots of greenery. And thus, you gift him a sulcata tortoise. It was fairly small when you got it and he didn’t really think much of it. However, within a year he noticed that he’d likely need to build a small shed for it or else it’ll outgrow his home. And that he did. His tortoise is a little rascal. Like Gaz, he doesn’t know if it’s a male or a female, he just named it Bonnie because it reminded him of you. It’s not uncommon for Bonnie to eat the flowers from the bushes, or the flowers in general. His mother would have killed him for it, but Soap lives alone these days. Soap scolds Bonnie very often because it keeps eating everything in his garden. But he lovingly scolds it, there’s no malice whatsoever behind his words. He actually also works out so that he’ll always be able to carry it home if it strays too far. Soap is a strong lad, but Bonnie is a great motivator as well. He often feeds her all kinds of dubious vegetables he’s found in the store, before trying them himself. I mean, if the tortoise eats it, then it can’t be bad, right? He celebrates the day you gave it to him by making it a big platter of lots and lots of snacks. Soap even arranges the food nicely so that it’s eye candy as well. He takes so many pictures of Bonnie, it’s unreal. And yes, he sends each and every single one of them to at least one person. You’ve received so many turtle pics. Ghost has probably blocked him for a day or two because Soap kept spamming him with blurry pictures of Bonnie. Sometimes, while it’s basking in the sun, he just lies down next to it and takes a small nap. Loves spraying Bonnie with the hose, it gets so demanding with the water. It always wants to be sprayed with water and Soap lovingly scolds it that it doesn’t need to be sprayed any more.

[shamixlour]

IWTV - Louis, why?

I am really curious to know and like don't get me wrong, I'm not being sarcastic or judgmental, I really want to know why as this gets me quite baffled and dumbfounded and what I mean by this is people who are surprised or don't understand why Louis stays with Armand after Paris or even SF.

Like, sure, in a way I understand where you are coming from... like how can Louis stay after what Armand did to him and Claudia in Paris? How can he continue to be with him after SF even though their relationship has been nothing but decades of boredom? Why is he still with him, years later in Dubai? Why didn't Louis leave him after everything? Imho, regardless of the mind controlling and all that memory erasure that did happen between them, it is a rather simple answer.

Where do you want Louis to go?????? Like genuinely. What do you want him to do?????? Who do you want to meet??? Is there anyone else for him now???? Is there someone????? Same for Armand, really. They are both almost forced to hold along because who would want to be with any of them? Who would want to be with Louis? Who would want to be with Armand? They both think no one would, and so they hold onto each other, they've seen the worst of e/o anyways and so they stay with each other because that is the only thing they can do and there might have been love at some point, affection but when we see them in Dubai, only an empty shell remains or rather they are both a lap of resentment and unuttered feelings.

Louis's got all eternity spread out in front of him. He is immortal and he is all alone, or at least he believes so. Claudia is dead. He probably thinks Lestat doesn't want anything to do with him anymore or maybe they can't be together for some other reasons, the point is Louis is alone and has nowhere else to go other than stay by Armand's side. He has nowhere to go.

He's like a bird stuck in a really pretty cage.

Louis is all alone, and his hands are tied, and his heart aches, and he is half a world away from where he belongs, from where he really wants to be. Again, it is not complicated, it is that simple and tragic (for both of them btw) and so i don't get why it is such a big deal for a lot of people although I'm always open for conversations and speculations and all of that but for this particular thing, idk I feel like it is quite crystal clear. It is made crystal clear, it is painted very outwardly and it is utterly sad and purposefully expressed in subtle ways but it is here.

Daniel and the interview shine a big fucking spotlight on it, on the entire situation, on all the flaws and pain and bitterness of Loumand's relationship throughout the years but also the mere condition of being a vampire and coming in terms with it and all the struggles that comes with it.

Daniel and the interview also will be, imho, what will help Louis break free from this cage, from this golden prison and finally be himself, accept who he is deep down. It will free Armand too because they deserve better and it is definitely not each other.

But yeah, that is why they stay with each other all these years, because what else could they have done??? Who would have want their company? Would Louis even indulge himself in accepting said company? *crickets* yeah exaclty.

Anyways, this was way too long, so if you read all of this, heart on you! Also, in no way i'm trying to belittle people's interrogations and emotions, it was mostly just some brain splash of things i wanted to express but also because Louis is not to blame for staying...like there are plenty explanations as to why he stays just like there are some explanations as to why Armand does what he does for this relationship to keep going forward. Besides, i'm always curious to read how people view them ect so feel free to hop on the discussion!

[ghouly-boiiiii]

A Light in the Dark 🕯️

Chapter 1: Throwing Stones

Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul

Summary: Takes place directly after the end of Season 1. As they begin their journey, Lucy is understandably very angry and fearful towards the Ghoul. She hates him, and is only joining him because she wants answers. He, however, is harboring secret feelings for Lucy ever since she saved his life. Having not been with anyone since Barb, and believing she would never feel the same, the bounty hunter has to deal with these feelings on his own. Little does he know, Lucy finds herself having inexplicable feelings for him as well, and struggling to make sense of them.

Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Casual Sex Lucy and No Wait Let Me Court You Cooper, Cooper is touch-starved and rusty in bed, He's also self-conscious about his body, Ghoul channels old romantic Cooper, Lucy is confused by strange surface dweller mating customs, She helps him discover his old self, He helps her discover her true self, Did I mention there would be angst

Rating: Mature - Word Count: 1,742

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers. No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man and lots of angst.

In this chapter...

To her horror, the rock shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

She threw her hands up in front of her. “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

“Don’t worry…” To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’… But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock, then looked up at her and threw it in her direction.

She watched as fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking.

Authors Note: This fic starts out somewhat similar to my other fic, My Name Is Cooper, because it starts directly after the end of the season. They have similar conversations at first, but the tone is much different and the story goes in a completely different direction. This one is more serious (still with some humor though, of course), and is probably going to be longer. I really wanted to do a more realistic, slow burn romance. I know there's a ton out there already, but I wanted to do my own version because idk, reasons I guess lol. But I really wanted to dive deep into how these two navigate their relationship and the very complicated feelings they might have for each other. This is what you might call another free-writing project, so I don't know *exactly* where it's gonna go, but I will do my best to make sure it has a decent ending when the time comes! Inspired by the cool peeps on Discord and touch-starved Cooper headcanons lol.

Lucy felt the cool night air fill her lungs as she took a deep breath and tried to still her mind. It was silent. Nothing but the soft crunch of leaves and dirt under their feet, and perhaps the occasional frog or cricket.

The vault dweller looked out at the distance before them. A fog rose up from the earth, illuminated by the faint glow of a thousand lights that mirrored the stars above. She was in awe, even thinking that it was beautiful. But it was only a distraction from all the pain and confusion she felt.

Her whole world had turned upside down. Nothing was as she believed it was. Nothing was as it seemed. Everything she thought she knew had crumbled into dust within a matter of minutes. She was numb. Overwhelmed. Everything felt surreal. And now she found herself once again alone… with him. 

As Lucy stared ahead at his silhouette in the darkness, she felt nothing but disdain. The young vault dweller was taught to forgive and forget. But she was fairly certain the people who taught her that were never fed to a giant salamander or tied up by their neck and dragged around a desert or sold for organs. How could she possibly forgive, let alone forget, such horrible things that were done to her?

She couldn’t. But she had to stuff down her feelings and let it go… for now. 

“So… where are we going?” Lucy finally asked. They must have been walking for at least thirty minutes at this point. And he hadn’t looked back even once, only reacting to the dog when she came up to him, and even then with barely more than a glance. Lucy wasn’t even sure if he knew she was still following him anymore.

The Ghoul didn’t answer right away. He waited a moment, before he took a breath and said, “Can’t say for sure yet… but looks like yo’ daddy might be headed for New Vegas.”

“...That’s a town?” 

“Big town.” 

“Okay…” Lucy took a deep breath. The conversation seemed to be going… okay so far. “So…  what’s in this town? Why do you think he’d want to go there?”

The Ghoul didn’t answer.

The vault dweller swallowed hard. She wanted to push, but she knew she had to be cautious. “How do you know my father? Are you going to tell me?”

The bounty hunter seemed to be ignoring her.

She huffed. He was so rude. So rude and inconsiderate and unaccommodating, it sickened her. Maybe if she started with something simpler… “Okay, so… do you got like a… name or something?”

Again, nothing.

Lucy frowned, her tone getting exasperated. “I’m just… wondering what I should call you… You really not gonna answer that either?”

“I don’t give a good goddamn what you call me.” He snapped, sounding a bit angry.

Lucy fell silent and her throat got tight, a bit of fear rising in her. She truly didn’t know what kind of madness compelled her to follow this man, after everything he did to her. She was hypervigilant about his every movement. Knowing that at any moment, he could turn around and try to do... something to her. 

With her hand on her pistol, she kept her distance. This one, armed with actual bullets. She wasn’t sure if it would do much, but it was something. 

Truly, every fiber of her being told her to get as far away from this… creature as she humanly could, but…

He had answers. And so did whoever they were going to find. She needed those answers. There was no question about it. Sure, she could just turn around and go home. Go back to her life in the Vault with Norm and Chet and Stephanie and everyone else. But she would never be able to live with herself. Those questions would never stop haunting her. She would never stop feeling compelled to seek the truth. Lucy knew this about herself, and her body acted almost automatically as she took one step in front of the other behind those of this two-hundred year old cowboy. 

“Look… you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Obviously, we’re not friends. But if we’re going to be working together… we need to at least communicate effectively...”

The Ghoul was silent for a moment, then finally responded, “Well, then… I got a question for you , Vaulty.”

“...Okay?”

“What happened to the doctor?”

“...The doctor?”

“Yeah. How’d he end up with no head?” This time, he did turn his head slightly, although not enough to see her. “...Who cut it off?”

"Uhh... Well, uh... I-I did..." Lucy's eyes fell to the ground.

"You did?" The bounty hunter said in surprise.

“Uhh… well…” She swallowed hard, as she remembered the task. She’ll never forget having to cut off someone’s head for the first time… and, well… hopefully, the last. “He asked me to.”

“He asked you to cut off his head?” This time, he did look back at her, peering over his shoulder questioningly with a raised brow.

“Yes… he… he took cyanide and told me… He told me it would be easier… if I just… brought his head…” 

The Ghoul turned to face ahead of him, then just said, “Huh…”

There was silence for a moment, before he asked another question. “What about the Super Duper Mart? What'd you do in'ere?”

Lucy blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him, flustered by the fact that he would ask that, considering he put her in that situation. “...Why do you wanna know?”

“Curious, I guess.” The Ghoul said simply. "It's just kinda funny... what with all that 'Golden Rule' talk, how many people seem ta' end up dead 'round you."

“It was an accident!" The vault dweller quickly retorted. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt... I just…" She paused and looked down at the ground somberly, remembering Martha. "They... they were holding all those people captive… I... I couldn’t just leave them there…”

“You mean those ghouls?”

“They’re people. Maybe they have a condition, but they’re still people..." She snapped, then added under her breath. "Unlike you...” 

Dangit. That was not a good thing to say. Lucy bit her tongue, hoping he didn't hear.

She swallowed hard and tried to play it off. “But I did have to kill some of them. So, you know…” She said, trying to sound confident in her ghoul-killing skills. "I'd, uh... watch out... if I were you."

"Heh. Well, good for you, Vaulty." He snickered. “…Anyways, how did you get the–”

“Now! Now, hold on!” Lucy said, holding up a bluish-grey finger. “If you get to ask me things, I get to ask you things.” She lifted her head a bit higher. “A question for a question. That’s only fair.”

The Ghoul peered over his shoulder at her again for a moment as he continued to walk, then turned back. “Alright.”

“Yeah… so…” She looked down at the ground and exhaled, then back up with determination in her eyes. “So I get to ask you—”

“Two questions.”

“Five.” 

“Five?” 

“That’s right. You technically asked me five questions. Actually, six.”

“Well, that don’t sound quite fair to me, Vaulty.” He said with a smirk. “I asked you two questions. The rest were for clarification. They don’t count.” 

She huffed in dismay. It was worth a try, she thought.

He chuckled. “Tell you what. You can ask me however many questions you want. But I get to pick which ones I answer.”

“No! That’s not fair! I answered the questions you asked me, now you’re gonna answer mine.”

“Well, you didn’t have to answer my questions. That was your choice.”

“What!? I–” She huffed, unsure how to counter that.

“Alright… question for a question.” The bounty hunter said, raising his voice, and two fingers.  "You got two. Have at it, sweetheart.”

The vault dweller jumped, then quickly ran up closer, but still stayed a few feet behind him. Out of arms reach. “...Name?”

“Pass.”

“How do you know my dad?”

“Hard pass.”

She huffed. “This isn’t fair.”

“And what is, darlin'?” He scoffed, holding his arm out beside him. “What in God’s Green Earth made you think that anything in the wasteland is ever fucking fair? It’s every man for himself out here, sweetheart. Thought you might’ve figured that out by now.”

Lucy growled, and as she momentarily lost her cool, she kicked a rock in front of her. To her horror, it shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

He froze, and she took a sharp gasp. Oh, no… now she’d done it.

As she watched The Ghoul slowly turn around to face her, she threw her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry!” She said in a panic. “I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

The old bounty hunter stood there and just stared at her a moment. “Don’t worry…” His face was in shadow, but she could see the gleam in his eyes. To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’…” 

Lucy rose her head and lowered her arms a little, relaxing somewhat.

“But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock from the ground. He tossed it in his hand once, then stood, looked up at her, and threw it in her direction.

She watched as it weakly flew towards her, then fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking. 

She looked up at The Ghoul and raised an eyebrow before she continued to follow, wondering what the hell that was all about.

“One thang you gotta learn, Vaulty…” He said, raising his voice commandingly. “Caps ain’t the only form of money up here. Everything you have is potential currency. That includes information.” He said. “You see, that Golden Rule a yer’s only works if other people agree with it. Now that might be all peachy down in your vault, but up here, you don’t wanna be givin’ nothin’ away unless you know you gettin’ somethin’ in return. If you don’t do that, you’ll be eaten alive out here.”

“So… You’re giving me survival lessons now?”

“Yeah… I guess I am.” He said as he turned to smile at her, then tipped his hat up with a single finger. “...But those you can have for free.”

To be continued...

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I invite everybody who took the other users side in that situation to find me a single situation where I was fatphobic and or went out of my way to be cruel or malicious to another user. After these crickets end, I'd like to invite the OP to prove that my reblog asking what their post means caused them hundreds of harassing messages in mere minutes, like they claimed. I will wait.

They posted one single message they got, from a person who wasn't a follower of mine and who responded to them after another user reblogged their post, which was confirmed by that other user. Before they closed their replies and closed themselves in an echochamber of people agreeing with them, I checked the notes a final time and though they did get criticism, as did I (and you all do know I listen to you and hear you and am always, ALWAYS open to conversation), those hundreds of messages of hate were nowhere to be seen.

Do you know why I know for sure they're lying about getting soooooooo much hate because of me? First of all, I've never cultivated a bullying culture on my blog. My followers can attest to that. I never supported users brigading for me. I don't have a cult following either way, but you can say I even discourage brigading. I always ask my followers not to fight others on my behalf. Not that it's necessary, because no one can say I get into drama often. Since making this blog, I can count maybe 5 situations that would be considered 'situations' to begin with. I don't have fans. I have bloggers that enjoy the content I post.

But secondly and more conclusively easily proven with numbers, I simply don't have that reach, nor do I have that many followers who are both active and fatphobic. I don't support fatphobia. I spoke out against fatphobia on this site. I've experienced it myself and I know how hurtful it is. My activity for this blog is abysmal due to me all but abandoning OTID in throes of my mental health battles. My posts get maybe 300 notes in total, over a 1000 if they're a hit reblog but that's it.

Hundreds of hate messages in minutes? Very unlikely. I'm not ashamed to admit OTID isn't what it used to be and that's completely on me and it's completely fine. My struggles stopped me from giving you the best possible OTID experience that you could've gotten and I feel very sorry for that, but I can be realistic and admit that this blog is just not that active anymore, and that's okay. All things die out with time. Lying on me wont change the facts that you're lying.

I also invite the people who say I should've known better and that my intent was unclear in asking the question, to explain about what I should have known better and to prove I was somehow malicious. Why would I be malicious? Why would I attack OP in the way they claim I did? When do I ever do that? How does that even make sense? You can still go through the notes and see that after I asked them for an explanation, nobody attacked them. You can also see that the OP went out of their way to attack me, while they explained calmly to another user what they meant.

What makes us different? Neither one of us understood. I can't read tones online, neither can that other user. I also am not a native speaker, so I sometimes get things wrong, hence why I asked. Why do they deserve kindness and I am accused of ill-intent for asking the same thing? Their replies and notes were off. I couldn't see the replies. This isn't Twitter. If you close those things off, other users don't see them and can't know you've made them. Why would anyone post things publicly but not expect a public response from anyone else?

I'd understand if I was attacking OP and they reacted like this, but I wasn't. My response wasn't malicious. I asked the source to explain, because I didn't understand. How is that malicious? To the people who say they see their point, please explain, because I do not see it and I really want to know. How is me genuinely asking what something that I don't understand means malicious? Even after publicly saying that I actually agree with a lot of things they said on their blog about fatphobia and so on. Supporting the cause? Understanding their points? Agreeing? I'm malicious?

I would also like to invite the people who claim I asked them in a known and rude/malicious meme format kind of way to prove that I did that. I did not know of this meme you speak of, but after checking for it online and finding the "well-known meme format" that was mentioned (which wasn't that well-known since I've never heard of it), my wording was not the same. It wasn't even close. So this argument, how can you claim it to be true?

And lastly, can anyone sincerely tell me how does it make sense for me to suddenly have a complete personality change, decide to reblog something to troll a user I don't even know just to be cruel to them, suddenly be malicious and fatphobic and be a completely different person that you all have known me to be for the past six years? If that was really who I am, wouldn't have the masked slipped way sooner? Why would I pretend to be not a complete POS all this time to have "What does this mean?" hill to die on? This is silly.

I wasn't being fatphobic. I wasn't mocking OP. I wasn't attacking OP. I wasn't being 'snarky'. I simply asked them what something they said meant, because I didn't understand what they meant. My brain wasn't computing. I didn't get their wording. I stumbled upon their post on the explore page, and wasn't seeking them out to antagonize them or anything else they might have claimed. I don't like hurting people. I don't go out of my way to hurt people. If I do hurt somebody I want to do everything in my power to correct it.

My followers weren't harassing them after that question. The OP didn't receive hundreds of hate messages after that question. OP is lying and it's easily to prove that they are. I don't know why they're lying and I'm not willing to get into that because I can't even assume, but one thing is clear - OP had a disproportionate reaction to a question that shouldn't have warranted such a reply. They doubled down and continued claiming victimhood in a situation where they haven't been victimized.

I genuinely feel sorry for them. I believe they've been victimized before. I know this sounds patronizing, but I really do feel sorry for them. I just don't appreciate that they've decided to do a victim cosplay over this and tried to villainize me for asking this question:

Ending this with my final thoughts: fatphobia is real and hurts people. I don't support fatphobia. I don't stand for it. I've met a lot of fatphobes in my life and all of them were deeply hurtful and insecure people who took out their insecurities on others. Here on OTID we don't vibe with shaming people for their weight nor for how they look. Fat people are people. Skinny people are people. We're all the same on the inside, bones and organs. What matters is how we treat others. I want to spend my days treating others with kindness and receiving kindness back. I like putting smiles on people's faces, not hurting others. I do get it wrong sometimes, and I acknowledge that, but I always try to correct myself, learn and be a better person. I admit when I'm wrong.

If this is my hill to die on, then so be it. But I promise you that I did not reblog OP's post and asked that question to make fun of them or invite harassment to them. I can't believe I even have to repeat this so many times, but I was asking because I didn't understand. I stand behind everything I've said. If your claim to fame is trying to fight me, you highly overestimate how many active followers I have and the kind of community you'll find here. If you want to cancel me for being fatphobic, I'm sorry to say but the only person I've ever been cruel to and who I've bodyshamed was my own self.

[acourtofthought]

I just need to rant.

At the end of SF, I'm happy that the relationship among the Archeron sisters is healing and going in a healthier direction. However, I think her stay in the Night Court was just her surviving and ignoring the events that contributed to her trauma. She can't bloom in a place where no one believes in her abilities and herself. It can't be helped that the perceptions of those around her lead to her infantilization.

Elain doesn't want to be coddled. Elain wants to help. Elain wants to be seen. Elain wants to be understood. Her stay in the night court will not give her that. She needs to leave.

Elain needs to be with people who can help her process her trauma. She needs to be with people who believe in her and push her to greater heights. I think her mate and the band of exiles can do that.

It upsets me that there are people who think Elain is fine in the night court. Makes me think they read with their eyes closed.

I think Elain is fine in the NC.

But fine isn't a strong emotion, is it? "How are you?" "I'm fine."

That's not what I think anyone strives for.

"I'm wonderful", "I'm so happy", "I feel alive."

Fine is not bad but fine is not really good either.

Elain managed to find good in the shack they used to live in, they had lost their lifestyle, their mother, their friends during their time in poverty yet Elain still held on to her optimism even though it may have been muted. So I don't doubt that's what she's doing in the Night Court as there are things to be happy about there. She has a beautiful home to live in, she has food, she has her hobbies, people to talk to and she now has a new adorable nephew after he and Feyre nearly died. That alone would have her counting her blessings.

Optimists will always try to focus on those things rather than dwell on what they don't have but that doesn't mean she's in the place where she truly thrives and is alive.

Just because she's not ranting and raving and is trying to make the best of her situation doesn't mean she doesn't lay in the dark at night wondering why things still feel off, feeling hurt that she's not taken seriously in the same way Feyre and Nesta are but trying not to be because she understands she's never going to be a warrior the same way they are, because she's always known how others view her.

I appreciate that Elain has a different sort of strength, the kind that makes her kind and loving regardless of what is thrown her way so I wouldn't expect her to throw a fit over their treatment. But you'd think if someone claims to actually like Elain's character, they would feel indignant on her behalf.

You'd think they'd be angry at Nesta completely disregarding her wishes.

You'd think they'd be angry at the way Az speaks about Elain, how she shouldn't be exposed to the trove yet is fine with Nesta searching. How he can't admit to having thought of a future with her beyond his sexual fantasies.

You'd think they'd feel sad for her, that even though Feyre has started to think of Elain as a person she can ask to do something dangerous (as she did with the Trove), she STILL only considers Elain to be a pleasant companion and nothing more, despite Elain's attempts to bond with Feyre over the past year.

You'd think they'd be frustrated at how they encouraged every other single female to train her powers except for Elain.

It's so clear that Elain will not be getting what she needs from those in the Night Court, they were encouraging Nesta to train all the way back in ACOWAR yet it's still crickets on any attempts with helping Elain with hers. You're right though, Lucien and the BOE are her best chance for others pushing her to embrace what she's capable of.

If anyone thinks the version of Elain that we are currently seeing is Elain at her best, that she's clearly "found" her people, I have to say this is quite the drop from SJMs typical FMCs. I think I'd rather Elain back in the human lands, surrounded by a circle of friends, flushed and brilliant than the lackluster version we've had of her as of late.

[textsfromthetva]

i assume that's a hypothetical question, but the reason people are so much more defensive of Sylvie than other characters like Loki is that people are so much meaner about her. you really can't go a day in this fandom without seeing Sylvie slander – which is why I really appreciate that even though you don't ship Sylki, you still respect the character and you still make Sylvie into some fucking awesome memes

I guess my refusal to take part in fandom at large is shielding me from a lot of this overt hostility. I’m just sitting here in my sandbox with a couple of trusted mutuals while the world burns around us

having spent 22 years in fandom though, I am intimately aware of this strategy in relation to shipping. slandering the woman in a ship you don’t like is a tale as old as time. so in that way I can sympathise with Sylki shippers automatically being really on edge and assuming the worst at all times

what I do not understand is how you can look at my entire history of content and come to the conclusion that I hate Sylvie. she is all over the place! yeah there are posts that are anti Sylki, but I make a point of giving the character love and attention on a daily basis. I made the observation early on that most of my followers weren’t that keen on Sylki, or Sylvie herself, judging by average number of notes on edits about either. I wrote a whole goddamn post about it, and I am actually really sad about the fact that I will make a great Sylvie edit and then it will get next to no notes, because it’s about Sylvie. has that stopped me from making content about her? no! and it really should not be hard to figure out why I would continue to shower attention on a character even when the general response is crickets chirping

I’ll give you a hint. it’s because I adore her. her and Brad are special in that way. I refuse to stop making content about them, no matter the popularity of the result, and I will keep doing this until you pry my laptop from my cold, dead hands

[skiptomyylu]

Okay This Might Be Stupid: A Comparison of Adam Young and Aziraphale for Clarity Sake

Now I don't mean a comparison of their characters to say one was better than the others. It's more so a comparison of their personal relationships with Heaven and Hell. A comparison of how those relationships/connections formed their most impactful decisions with incredibly powerful beings.

Now...lets start with Adam Young and his relationship with Hell.

...crickets

It doesn't exist. Adam Young had literally no relation to hell other than Satan being his biological father. He had his friends and his family and Hogback Woods. Nobody in Hell really came up to talk to him and Adam didn't KNOW he was the son of Satan either until he started coming into his power OR until the devil showed up.

Adam Young has no connection to hell aside from Biology, and Hell has no connection to him. Of course he was able to stand up to his Father and Heaven and Hell and his own Destiny.

Because he's so brave- I love Adam so much

Aziraphale and Crowleys talk with him gave him a bit more confidence

HELL HAS NO HOLD ON HIM

They couldn't sway him even if he wanted to. Beelzebub TRIED sure offering to him that he'd get to rule the world. But he didn't want it anymore. He was able to break away from what was written and make his own Destiny.

Now...Aziraphale and Heaven.

Heaven has so much hold on Aziraphale- it's something else.

Emotionally, Physically, Mentally- Heaven is his foundation and fundamentals. They fed him the most rigid and incorrect ideas and lies and when he starts breaking from the mold they reprimand and belittle him until he's back into the shape they want him in.

They can watch him whenever they want. They already watch his miracles and got upset for having too many "frivolous" ones. They can pick and choose whatever they wish to do to/with him. He knew NOTHING of Jobs trials until the day it happened and the acted as though he was an idiot for not understanding.

HEAVEN has a hold on Aziraphale. Oh they have the strongest hold on Aziraphale- millions of years in the making. So strong that we can see the indent lines from their cold callous fists in Aziraphales words and ideals throughout history.

So of course the Metatron could come down, manipulate Aziraphale, and get EXACTLY what he wanted for him. OF COURSE it's that easy for them to do.

When it's said Aziraphale had no choice- we don't mean the Metaton tied him down or beat his ass and screamed "GO TO HEAVEN! NOW!"

It means his going to Heaven was NEVER a choice to begin with. The Metatron did not come down from HEAVEN to ask a yes or no question. He wasn't gonna leave without a souvenir- the tartan wearing Angel made of the clay heaven can mold however they like.

Oftentimes when a parent asks you to do something- it is not a question. It is a statement- an order- formed as a question for MAYBE the sake of politeness. But there is no NO option.

When the METATRON comes down from Heaven and offered you the position of Supreme Archangel so perfectly and carefully gift wrapped and catered towards you there is no NO option. There is no version of that conversation where Aziraphale would have said no.

So...can we stop calling Aziraphale an idiot or an asshole or something for doing what was set in stone the moment the Metatron walked into the bookshop.

TOODLEOO!

[lily-alphonse]

if we're talking rarepairs, what do you think of linus and gus?

What do I think Linus and Gus? 🫣

God dammit you guys are really giving me a run for my money but I'm living for it. I rewatched their cutscene for this because I was so stumped. Linus makes things difficult.

I'm struggling to get something from Gus here that isn't pity. And Linus doesn't want anything to do with society.

I think I would actually do a really disjointed Linus POV. Similar to diary entries or like he's telling his story. And he refers to Gus by a mean nickname in his narration at first. He doesn't like how Gus pities him. It would start out rough, and take some time for them to reach an understanding.

Because Linus doesn't need help. He wants to dig in the trash because he is afraid that things are being wasted there (I interpret him as having an issue with hoarding, which is part of why he is homeless).

After Gus has come out to his tent to bring him food a few times, Linus snaps at him. He doesn't want handouts, he doesn't want him making food for him. He doesn't even need it, he has plenty of fish smoking. Why wouldn't he ask? He never feels like he even has a choice, it's humiliating.

So Gus stops coming. But Linus realizes he has started putting another trash can out. A new one, with food scraps and leftovers separated out that Gus thought Linus would like.

And Linus feels a flicker of guilt for the first time in a long time. Guilt, and gratitude.

He decides to knock.

It's late, after 1 AM at least.

It takes a moment but Gus comes to the door before Linus can convince himself to leave.

Some civilized part of him feels the need to thank him, but he can't help but replay in his mind all of the last thank yous he forced out at his handouts. He wrings his hands.

Gus is the first to speak. "What's your favorite food, Linus?"

"Don't got one," he replies automatically, and he feels the tension in his shoulders decrease slightly at the out. "Whatever fish is in season, I guess."

Gus huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. "I should've known you'd say that."

"Nature's got a lot to give. Hard to pick a favorite."

Gus' smile widens. "Hard to disagree with you there."

They stand for a moment while the crickets speak for them. Linus readies himself to leave but Gus speaks again. "Did you want to come in?"

Linus shakes his head, the thought of being inside the saloon stifling. But the way Gus' smile drops actually bothers him for some reason.

"Could uh... could come by the lake though. Maybe we could fish?" Linus says hesitantly.

His smile is back. It feels better like that. Like the sun being out.

"I'm not much for fishing but I'd be happy to join you."

Phew. Another rough one done

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

[natsglorifiedsimp]

Hi was wondering if u are taking requests for mama!nat or not? If so could you do one where has severe seizures but no one knows accept for Nat and are all really stressed and don’t know what to do so they call Nat is a rush and didn’t tell her anything other than she needs to get to the compound really quickly and then she helps reader come down from her seizure. If u don’t wanna do it I understand 😊

Is she possessed?

Haha, I took too long to finish this🙂 I'm considering stopping writing fics lmao but I'm sorry for taking long. I made some changes hehe I hope that's okay :>

Taglist: @youralphawolf72 @madelineleong @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @lissaaaa145 @fxckmiup @mmmmokdok @sayah13 @karmasgxrl @meurgen @simp-erformarvelwomen @lilaswidowspark @snowdrop1026 @ravensinthedaylight @karsonromanoff @aesthelicca

One would say ‘school is easy’ or ‘it's the easiest part of life’ but in your case, it isn't. You have been swamped with different assessments that you have to get done because of unreasonably short deadlines. 

Sleep wasn't an option, to say the least you don't have a work-life balance. 

You always struggled with academic validation. That along with the pressure of being Natasha's daughter, made you always strive hard to be able to get an A+. You wondered how your mother always does so well on her mission, and wits to solve something that always mesmerized you. The invisible comparison you made between yourself and her as well as the thoughts going on in your mind drives you. Especially during late nights with the substantial amount of cups of coffee you drank just to stay up and be able to finish an assessment. 

Today you finished a project you've been working on for weeks. Some part of you was finally relieved that you finally have a space for a rest and some ‘me time'. Even though you still had five homeworks to work on.

You went to the kitchen to grab some food and finally eat and bask in the chirping of the crickets when Tony decided to get in with piles of paperwork. 

"Hi," he sheepishly said. You looked at him and the papers in his arms questionablyly. "Oh this? It's the paperwork I've been avoiding" he shrugged.

"I wish I could avoid my homework" you chuckled. "Glad I didn't" Tony hummed in response.

"What are you doing up anyway?" Tony asked. "Isnt it your bedtime?"

"Bedtime?" you deadpanned. "I'm not a child and I was just done with homework"

"Do you mind if you take half of these?" Tony sheepishly asked. You furrowed your eyebrows.

You wanted to say no but you feel bad about it. But if you say yes, you're gonna have a hard time finishing all your dues.

"I still have homework to do, Uncle Tony" you declined kindly.

"It's just half of it," Tony said taking the half from his stack of papers. "Here" he handed you the papers and you hesitantly looked at it.

"But-"

Before you could protest Tony was off running away from half of his duties.

"I don't even know how to do these" you sighed.

---

You didn't even know it was morning until Wanda decided to knock on your door and say breakfast was ready. If that was Sam he would say 'you look like shit'. Which was true, the bags under your eyes and the gloomy tired gaze you have. You're burnout.

You head down and eat what you wished you would eat fast. But even your hands won't cooperate. You ended up playing with the food instead of putting it in your mouth.

"Y/n, can you pass the salt? Please?" Steve asked.

"Y/n?"

You zoned out. You know what this means. You can feel it coming. It's like when you need to sneeze and you just know it's gonna come.

"Honey, are you alright?" Wanda asked.

Before you could fall to the ground Steve caught you. Your body was jerking uncontrollably your eyes were at the back of your head and you looked..

"What's happening?" Sam asked. "Is she possessed?" he asked panickily.

"Call Bruce"

"NO! CALL NAT!"

"SHE'S ON A MISSION"

"CALL 911"

"WE'RE AVENGERS?!"

"Who am I gonna call?" Peter confusingly asked.

"CALL BRUCE AND NAT!!"

---

You woke up in a different room. It was the medbay and you could hear the heated argument between your mom and maybe.. Steve or.. Was it Sam.

"We panicked, okay?" Sam argued.

"YOU PANICKED? YOU'VE BEEN ON A BATTLE FIELD AND EVERYTHING THATS MUCH SCARIER AND YOU PANICKED?" Nat shouted.

"Mom-"

"Y'all are an idiot! You could have killed my daughter! You didn't know basic first aid?" She ranted.

"Mom, tone it down" you whispered.

Natasha hurriedly looked at you. "Oh you're up" she sighed in relief. "I'm sorry you had to wake up hearing that" she carefully caressed your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Mhm," you assured. "Just tired."

"You need rest, okay? I'll help you with your homework when you're all rest up."

"But-"

"No buts"

"Fine" you rolled your eyes. Your mom moved to get out of the room and you furrowed your eyebrows.

"Where are you going?" you asked.

"Scolding Tony's ass" she replied casually.

"No no no no" you protest and it was the redhead's turn to furrow her eyebrows.

"I want you here" you patted the mattress and smiled knowingly. "I need mama cuddles"

"Fine," she feign exasperated.

[storiesandthingsofthatnature]

To Feel Guilt

Part 1 - Part 2

Summary: Pino takes your mask for a few days but doesn't realize just how important it is to you

Word Count: 867 (Don't kill meee)

Pairing: Pinocchio (pino) x G!N!Reader

Warning: A bit of angst?

Disclaimer: None

A/N: Sooo..It is longer but not by much ;; Imma quit making promises I can't keep lol. But hey! I've made it to chapter 10 in the game! But I am stuck on the rabbit brotherhood boss. Do wish me luck with that haha. But anyways, thank you for staying with me for this long! Welcome to everyone new to my blog and I hope you enjoy! :D

Pino had never really understood the word “smitten”. But, apparently, that’s how Gemini described his feeling when Pino had confided in his companion about seeing you without your mask. “Based on what you’re describing to me, smitten fits!” The cricket puppet declared. “Perhaps you’re developing what humans call a “crush.” Pino couldn’t help but raise a brow at that. Considering how you were, an oddball, he couldn’t really see himself liking you in that way. The puppet pushed back on the cricket’s notion and Gemini hummed. “Let’s see. What if we take their mask? I know how stalkers are with them but if we just have a little experiment and see how you are with just their appearance then we can see if I’m wrong or not.” 

And that is how Pino found himself in possession of your T-Rex mask. While you were taking a bath he snuck into your room and snatched up the item. Returning to his own room he couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the mask. His fingers glided along the faux leathering, indentions of scales and small markings from previous fights littered the sides and front of the face. As he looked at it more he realized that this was done by hand. He wondered who made it. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door and he practically threw the mask in utter panic. But understanding just how important a mask can be to a stalker, he steadied his grip and quickly found a hiding spot for it amongst his things. He then walked to his door, opening it to reveal you but with a sort of air that was definitely different. “Hey, Pino. This is really odd to ask but…Have you seen my mask? I seem to have misplaced it even though that can’t be but obviously it is because it’s gone so…” You clasp your hands together and take a breath, steadying your nerves. “Have you seen it? By chance?” 

The look on your face was that of worry and a part of him wanted to hand it over. But…Once again, he was able to look at your face and he could already feel his artificial heart picking up its pace. Perhaps a few days wouldn’t hurt. He gave a small shake of his head and you gave a sigh of defeat. “Okay, well, if you do see it do let me know?” You ask with a small smile and he nods. Exchanging good nights, you turn on your heel to walk back to your room and Pino was left with an all knowing Gemini. “Yes, yes, this experiment will do quite nicely, I believe.” He teased and Pino wanted to flick at the cricket’s head. 

But with the next few days Pino was starting to wonder if he did indeed feel something for you. Guilt gnawed at him but to see your raw expressions to conversations and to hear your voice not muffled by a mask was enough to have him not noticing the small indifferences in your behavior. It wasn’t until he found you silently weeping in the garden that he realized that he had overstepped his boundaries. 

“Oh! Pino, hello!” You give a dry chuckle as you turn away and quickly wipe at your eyes. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for anyone to see me like this.” You sniffle and clasp at the edge of the stone bench that you sat on for grounding. “It’s silly, I know. Crying over a mask? But….It’s something that means a lot to me and being without it hurts more than I thought it would.” You confess with a smile that practically had Pino on his knees begging for forgiveness. Even in this situation you smiled at him and he was finding that they were treasures of his own. And to be born from something like this…

You hadn’t noticed him seat himself next to you, but then you felt a familiar material on the back of your hand. You looked down to see the very same mask that was giving you strife the past three days. “OHMYGOODNESS, YOU FOUND IT?!” Your sudden change in energy had Pino’s eyes spinning, but the feeling of your arms wrapping around him sent a new type of emotion through him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I wonder where it was, but I feel like if you tell me and it was somewhere I could have found it I would lose my mind.” You chuckle happily, making the move to place your mask back where it belonged. 

However, hands stopped you and you looked up in surprise. Pino looked like he was concentrating, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought as his eyes scanned your face. He placed a hand atop your cheek, a thumb wiping away the remnants of your tears. It was as if he was trying to memorize your face and before you could ask he let go with a soft sigh. He then rose from his spot and went to leave, the puppet giving one final look at you before departing. You clutched your chest when you were alone again, being left with a soft “huh?” Leaving your lips.

[powderpinkprincess]

Homesick [Legolas x human!reader]

Description: Legolas is a little sad but you don't really know that. This one is placed somewhere after The Hobbit and before The Fellowship of the Ring.

You sighed.

A strange, uncomfortable feeling clenched your stomach in its fist as you gazed out the window into the darkness. The stars shined almost unnaturally bright. The wind smelled cold and foreign. The grey stone walls of your room radiated something unsettling. You crossed your arms in front of your chest tightly. In the distance, you saw a faint light. Under the window lay the wide garden of the castle. On your left, there was a balcony you shared with your companions. And on the balcony, you noticed a tall, slim figure almost completely blending into the dark of the night.

Even though he had the hood of his cloak on, you recognized him. He was completely motionless; none of your companions were able to stand that still, gazing into nothing. You smiled softly and grabbed your own cover before you left the bedroom.

You knew he heard your footsteps, so you didn’t hesitate to approach him. A shiver ran through your spine when a wave of foreign wind met your skin. You glanced at the dancing contours of leaves on the tree below you in the pale moonlight.

“You should be asleep,” Legolas stated without even looking in your direction.

“So should be you,” you answered, your voice barely a whisper.

Silence fell between the two of you again. A comfortable silence in the uncomfortable unknown, yet you decided to break it.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked hesitantly.

“The sound of crickets.”

You listened carefully but heard nothing.

“In my forest, they are present each night. I never thought a village like this one would be different,” he explained eventually, noticing your confusion. “Like all the living creatures have vanished when the Moon came up. The night is unnaturally silent.”

He was right, you felt it as soon as he spoke. You lived in a town, so you didn’t understand what felt so unfamiliar to you until now. Now you knew what felt different: it was not the wind that was bothersome, but the silence.

You stepped forward and your shoulders touched. It wasn’t intentional, but you didn’t move away, hoping he would not either. You enjoyed being so close to him. His ethereal calmness gave you a sense of comfort you desperately craved. From the corner of your eyes, you saw his blond hair glowing in the moonlight. He noticed your look and turned his head towards you. His eyes were sparkling like the stars up in the sky.

You knew him for almost a year now, yet at times his Elvish beauty left you speechless. It was something you could not describe with words. His presence was more like a feeling: a breeze of otherworldly peace and fresh, green spring from somewhere far. He was the only Elf you have ever met, and you wondered if the others were as majestic as him.

“Tell me about your home,” you asked without even thinking. He never spoke about himself. What kind of a place was he from? Did he have a family at home that waited and missed him?

However, he stayed silent, and you noticed a small, almost sad smile on his lips. He turned back to gaze into the distance, and just when you thought he was never going to answer you, he spoke. “What would you want to know about my home?”

“Anything,” you whispered. “Where do you live? Is there someone waiting for you?”

Legolas sighed. He moved from your side and sat up on the small brick wall, his back against the deep nothingness underneath. He was facing you now, so his features remained in shadow, hidden from the moonlight.

“Watch out! You are going to fall!” you gasped. Just the sight made you dizzy.

“I am not,” he shook his head, seemingly amused. “I climb on branches thinner than this and have never fallen from anywhere.”

You silently prayed this was not going to be his first time.

“At home us, the warriors do patrol every day. We need to be able to climb up on trees quickly and high, sometimes even while shooting arrows,” he mused. “Wooden elves are generally great in such things, especially where I live.”

“Patrol every day?” you questioned, wrinkling your forehead. In your town, no one really went on patrol.

“My father prefers the borders to be watched at all times. Especially these days.” He paused. “You know- Mirkwood used to be much wider, they say. Sadly, I do not remember those days. However, we like to keep safe what we have left.”

You nodded. That was understandable.

“And about the crickets- The woods are full of life. All kinds of beings, from small to huge. Life never stops moving there, not like here.” He turned his face away from you. “Either way, I have not been there for a long time.”

He fell silent again. And his eyes, almost like they were looking for something so far away that even he could not see it. He focused on one spot on the horizon and his blue irises glistered with unreachable sadness. He was so close yet felt so far away from you.

“Don’t you miss being home?” you asked. “Your father must wish you were there with them.”

Suddenly, his expression changed. He straightened his back and all the feelings you thought you saw in his eyes vanished.

“There is a reason I left,” he replied shortly, his voice quiet but firm. You knew better than to ask more.

If only you knew the longing he felt deep in his heart. Wherever his journey had brought him, he always found which direction he came from. He was too far away from Mirkwood to grasp anything of it yet doing so brought him a sad kind of comfort. Sometimes he closed his eyes and imagined how their own wind felt on his skin. He pictured the sunlight filtering through the green summer shrouds or the sound of the fallen leaves beneath his feet in autumn. Then he thought about how his father would greet him if he ever returned.

Cold as always, he smirked bitterly. Since the death of his mother, nothing was the same. Thranduil sent an army to get back the jewels that once belonged to his wife. He went to war for a memory. All Legolas could do was follow his orders. He wondered if Thranduil saw his son in him anymore or just another soldier, because he barely got any more attention than them. After the war he was too angry to stay.

The leaves had fallen twice since then. Yes, he was homesick.

He pushed himself off the wall and stood, his glance avoiding you.

“You should go and get some rest. There is a long day waiting for us tomorrow,” he said. Then he passed by you and didn’t look back.

[killeroos]

Hello! I just have one thing to say.

I don't think I understand the concept of Bazball. I mean I know it has something to do about going berserk with the strike rate in tests, but does that invariably mean the players will get out faster, than if they player with a slower strike rate ? Or maybe will get fatigued and won't be able to stay in the crease for much longer?

Sorry if I'm wrong...I really don't understand the need or purpose of it. What about in pitches that are less batting friendly?

bazball is super confusing don't worry!!

i think what makes it confusing is that it's really two separate concepts - a test cricket strategy and a media strategy

so back in 2022 england was doing poorly in tests despite doing well in white ball cricket. to try and improve test results they replaced the captain and coach and started to incorporate more white ball tactics. while tests usually favour a less risky approach, with a slower strike rate, there are benefits to a more aggressive style of play. it's high risk but also high reward. because while yes you are more likely to get out sooner if you're trying to score fast, even playing carefully there's the risk of just getting unlucky and losing your wicket. it can also be used as a mental strategy, a great way to get under the oppositions skin

playing aggressive test cricket hardly a new thing though; australia was known for it for decades, and before that it was the west indies! what made bazball unique was that every batter on the team was trying to score as fast as possible, rather than a select few. the idea was that with every batter playing recklessly, statistically it should work out for enough of them for the risk/reward to pay off. this pairs well with the mindset side of bazball, a focus on being positive and exciting. like you can call joe root's scoop shots many things, but you can't say they're not exciting!

beyond strategy though bazball is also a marketing tactic. the term 'bazball' itself was invented by the media, and after replacing the coach and captain they needed to rebrand the team's image so they've embraced it. they're not stuffy old england anymore, they wear bucket hats now! baz and stokes must be super relaxed, they're always sitting with their feet up where cameras can see them! most importantly they're not playing to win, they're playing to entertain, and apparently they're going to save test cricket while they do it 🤷

huge huge thankyou to @khawajy for helping me answer this one!! <3

[22degreehalo]

So recently, I started watching Bluey!

In a way, that was inevitable: I was a brony back in the day (and yes that sure is a whole subject in its own right I'm not getting into right now lmao), I work in a setting where I frequently interact with children, and I'm Australian. It was just a matter of time, and when my aunt over the Christmas hollies demanded my parents and I watch 'the cricket episode', that was just the final permission I needed to do it.

So, those are three potential reasons to watch it: because kids' cartoons can be highly enjoyable and good viewing in their own right, because it'll help me better understand and relate to kids, and because it is The big cultural product coming out of my country for this entire decade probably and that's interesting.

And all of them turned out to be well-founded! It has helped me to visualise a lot better how kids work and learn and live, and it's good viewing: the animation is pretty, the music work is great (some very well-placed classical pieces alongside the Steven Universe-esque chiptunes), and it's equally capable of being sweet and funny and genuinely meaningful. There's a lot that can be said about that; the contrast with the mixed reaction to the 'darker' Avatar remake, or even just the way limitations (in this case, quick 7-minute runtimes) can breed creativity.

But it was that third reason which surprised me the most. I'd heard all the jokes about how American kids are picking up Australian slang and even accents and so forth, but I never properly prepared myself for how... it would feel, seeing my life depicted on TV like that.

It's not like Australians never get to see our country on TV. We have our own reality shows and soapies and all that, but I don't watch the latter and the former... aren't exactly depictions of ordinary everyday life. When Australia does show up in media, it's usually through satire: either Simpsons-style, or our own home-grown Kath and Kim or The Castle. And that's not a knock on either of those last two: they're pitch-perfect depictions of Australian culture and I'd highly recommend anyone who wants to understand Australian humour or social mores to watch both! It's just that they're very... self-deprecating. Which, again: Australian culture. We're like that.

But Bluey is so... beautiful.

I've always had a weird relationship to my country. I've never really fit in much with the culture; I'm too sensitive and sincere for it, and it's usually pretty obvious I think. And the environment? I just don't entirely know how to relate to it. All of our holidays are based on a calendar and geography an entire world away. Native plants and animals and the like always seemed like they Belong To the, well, native Australians. I'm not witchy, I'm not a health junkie, and I'm not super outdoorsy (though I do like a hike now and then!). My main way of interacting with my country is through just walking down the street, and marvelling at how pretty my city is, and how lovely (and/or annoying!) the birds are.

And I get that from Bluey. Something it's good at, even outside my personal connection to it I think, is depicting this certain sense of awe at the world that children can have, when everything is so new and strange and wonderful. The pilot episode features a long, zoomed-in moment of the youngest child encountering a walking leaf bug, and her whispered, thinking-out-loud amazement. 'Why would a leaf want to walk?' indeed!

And there's that: the rainbow lorikeets flocking in trees; the jacaranda flowers softly falling outside the parents' bedroom window. But also the man-made things. The green deck chairs out on the lawn, drinking white wine and cider while the dads barbeque. The sausage sizzle and pavlova. The opening presents Christmas morning and then going for a swim in the pool with your cousins.

It's romanticised up the wazoo; it boggles me a little when people complain about how big the titular character's house is, because... yeah! It's idealised! It's meant to be pretty and comfy and a little wish-fulfilmenty. That's not to say that everything is perfect, but it's larger than life; not to quote the old cliche, but it's a preschoolers' show, for gosh sake.

And for someone who has always loved the world too much and felt silly and cringy and embarrassed by it, there's something really, really lovely about finally getting to see artists direct that love at the actual world I see around me. Not exactly the same; where I live is much drier than Brisbane, for starters. But it's close enough.

This, I really feel like, is a new cultural image of Australia that will resonate in the public memory. Not Mad Max, not Steve Irwin, just a pretty, hilly city by the beach, with bright cockatoos and wandering bin chickens, shallow creeks and gumnut 'dollars', and families gathering for barbeques and friendly games of backyard cricket.

(The cricket episode really is a very good one!!)