Princess Anne and Sir Tim Laurence attending day three of Badminton Horse Trials where they supported their (step)daughter Zara Tindall on 11th May 2024.
"with the cup party planning it literally felt like a wedding day" and other normal things to say about a inanimate metal trophy that you have a couples tattoo of with your teammate on your thigh
welp samuel has spoken! thats his wife now! happy wedding to the newly weds!
anakin should just cry on obi wan so that the old man can go through 7 stages of guilt for being such a fucking dumbass
to be fair to obiwan lmao anakin was literally married and supposedly in love with his literal wife like five minutes ago - that’s a pretty solid basis for assuming someone doesn’t love you back
Kinda obsessed with the way weddings are shown im fable 3 because it really feels super informal like they're just done in the open and if you wanna show up you can show up.
Like that random homeless man is NOT my friend, I don't know him hut he saw me,my fiancé and th town crier and went "Yeah I can swing a wedding today, nothing better to do" and I appreciate that so much
400 words on a’yuan’s first time cursing in front of his dad
.🤬.
Lan Yuan freezes. He feels the hair on his arms prickle, rising on end. He’s standing on one foot, holding the smallest toe of his other tightly in his fist. It hurts. Even with his whole body frozen stiff, it hurts. A sharp throb that had ricocheted up to his knee and back down to his toenail, but had somehow come out through his mouth.
He turns slowly, his own words ringing loudly in his ears.
Hanguang Jun looks similarly frozen in place. Shocked still like the rabbits in the meadow when Jingyi forgets not to shout.
“Where did you learn that phrase, A’Yuan?” he asks, voice low and gentle.
Lan Yuan looks down at the leg of the table. It appears entirely unconcerned with the drama it has caused. Not even a scuff mark for his trouble.
He looks back up to the man he privately considers to be his father. The man who has been with him for the past four years. The man he’d do anything not to disappoint.
Hanguang Jun doesn’t look mad, though Lan Yuan gets the feeling that anger might just slide off his face, unable to stick, like ink on waxed paper.
“I don’t know,” Lan Yuan answers honestly. In his mind the cadence is rough like untilled soil and the words are the color of fresh cinnabar. But he doesn’t know why. There isn’t a memory to call up so much as an emotion, an instinctual vocal response to pain. “I think I heard it somewhere.”
It’s unlikely he heard the phrase in the Cloud Recesses. Profanity is forbidden. But it doesn’t sound like it would fit into the tongue-tripping Gusu dialect he hears on their day trips down to the Caiyi markets either.
Hanguang Jun still hasn’t moved. His posture is rigid and strange. His eyes are aimed toward Lan Yuan, but they’re not looking at him. Not seeing him. Hazy and far away and… wet?
A small smile lifts the corner of Hanguang Jun’s mouth. He hums.
Then his eyes seem to focus back on Lan Yuan. He says, soft but stern, “Profanity is forbidden. You will copy Conduct.”
Lan Yuan drops his foot to the floor, the pain already forgotten, and bows his apology.
When he rises, the smile is still there.
Then Hanguang Jun adds, “On your hands,” and Lan Yuan fights not to say the phrase again.
Hhnnggg.... SNIFF... Uoohhgg... SNNNFFF........ Ehuu ehuuu ehuuu <-(Sound of crying)
Houhg...EUUOOHHGG.. HUHUUHGG... HHNHG... MMY WIFE....O HHH MY WIFE.... MY WIFE...... OHHHHOHH HHOIUUHHHH.. HGNN... OUHH... MMM M M M Y WIFE.... I AM SNIVERING (sniflfing and shivering) AND CRYEING. My wife. My WIFE. M y wife