#int. gregory

[faultyconscience]

@eraserisms said: ❝ can i get you a water or something? ❞ for Gregory House

His lips press together tightly as he exhales, a pbpbpb sound reverberating loudly through the room before he clicks his tongue, letting out a loud hm. His face is contorted in a show of mock contemplation. "If by water you mean vodka, sure. On the rocks."

[blcssom]

it’s not as though finn’s anti-social.... it’s more that he’s selectively-social, which makes the staff lounge a minefield at lunch time. unfortunately, with his usual hiding spot occupied ( why a choir comprised of six year olds feels the need to practice at lunch time is beyond him ) he has no choice but to approach the only table with an opening. “mind if i sit here?”

closed starter for @seducteurs​ // open m/f

[troublcmakcrs]

Tweek was still fuming at Gregory, shaking in his rage, when the dog walked in, a beautiful German Shepherd.  Instantly upon looking at her and hearing her soft bark, his expression softened.  Dogs could tell when you were troubled, and given that she was an innocent in this, he did not want her to worry about him or think that his anger was directed at her in an way.

“Hi,” he said, smiling and pitching his voice up an octave.

Craig had been attacked by a German Shepherd one day when he was sledding and spent much of his life fearing larger dogs like that.  Presumably, he still did, but Tweek had not asked him what his current views on the beasts were.  At any rate, he was still bearing the scars from the incident on his thigh.  As for Tweek, he had always adored them, and perhaps he liked them even more when he found out about Craig’s hatred for them.

He lowered his hand slowly, beckoning the dog with his fingers to see if she might sniff and let him pet her.  “Come here, baby,” he continued in that doting, childish voice.  “You’re so pretty.  You’re so pretty.  I love your little ears.”

A debate was no debate if your opponent was being overwhelmed by emotions. Passion was important but control of that passion was key; passion could burn too hot and take everything down with it. The jab is again ignored. Too many taken at his person to really consider it much. It's not that Gregory does not understand Tweek's point but it won't change his views.

If those he loved wanted to follow him into battle, wanted to fight beside him then that was their choice. They had come to accept the threats that came with his work. Assassins, ambushes, plans of utmost torture. Can he be faulted from wanting to protect those he loved from such things? Is that so wrong of him? To want them to be spared such paranoia induced possibilities?

In Gregory's opinion, neither of them were wrong in their approaches.

The blond stands at the counter, having already put the kettle on. He's glaring firmly at the countertop, lips plunged into a deep frown. Slowly, his hands curl up into fists with a creak of black leather. He needed to keep control of himself, not lose his temper over a small squabble.

In the other room his mother's prized german shepherd, Daisy, wanders in and looks at Tweek.

Who was this in her home?

"Wrf!"

[kamwritesonvicodin]

INT. HOUSE & WILSON’S SHARED APARTMENT – NIGHT

The front door bursts open. HOUSE enters, holding a half-ripped Party City bag and a 12-pack of Gatorade. He looks like he just ran a marathon fueled by pettiness and horniness.

HOUSE (in the tone of someone entering a motel room with malicious intent) Helloooo, birthday boy.

WILSON (face down on the couch, muffled) It’s not my birthday.

HOUSE It is now. I brought streamers and thirst.

He tosses the Party City bag on the table. A single balloon floats out. HOUSE walks over, peers at WILSON like he's studying a rare frog.

HOUSE You’re drunker than a Princeton sophomore at rush week. This is hot.

WILSON (rolls onto his back, squinting) You actually came back for me.

HOUSE Of course I did. You said I could see your real personality. I want that. I want to see it. Naked.

WILSON Greg.

HOUSE Jimmy.

WILSON You’re doing it again.

HOUSE Doing what? Being devastatingly handsome and alarmingly available?

WILSON Being a menace to my sexuality.

HOUSE That’s rich coming from a man who just texted “emotionally eat me” at 2 a.m.

WILSON That was metaphorical.

HOUSE Nothing is metaphorical when whipped cream and stethoscopes are involved.

WILSON groans and throws a pillow at him. HOUSE catches it with surprising grace and sits down next to him, closer than necessary. The air gets weird. Like, third-base-in-the-living-room weird.

HOUSE So, what now? You gonna make a move, Dr. Wilson? Or do I get on all fours and pretend I’ve fallen again?

WILSON Greg—

HOUSE —Gregory. Use my full name if you’re gonna reject me mid-foreplay.

WILSON (sharply, but blushing) I’m not that gay.

HOUSE (smug) Great. You can be the top then.

WILSON Shut up. (beat) God, you’re impossible.

HOUSE And yet… you let me live here. You pay the rent. You bought me that weighted blanket.

WILSON That was for your insomnia!

HOUSE That was love, and you know it.

HOUSE leans in slightly, like he’s testing the gravity between them. WILSON doesn't move away. He looks at HOUSE like he’s trying to do long division with his emotions.

WILSON You’re serious?

HOUSE Only about three things in life: pain, Vicodin, and you.

Silence. Long. Charged. Ridiculously romantic if not for the fact WILSON is draped over the couch like a Victorian lady recovering from consumption.

WILSON If I kiss you, I won’t remember it in the morning.

HOUSE Then I’ll kiss you again. Sober. And worse.

WILSON You’re the worst man I know.

HOUSE And you want to make out with me so bad it’s giving you a tumor.

They stare at each other. The jazz starts playing softly from the speaker House queued earlier like a little freak. The balloon bumps against the ceiling. Neither of them moves.

WILSON …Do you have any of that cake?

HOUSE Only if you feed it to me shirtless.

WILSON Shut. Up.

But he’s already smiling. And House is already winning... on my ao3 guys its a one shot

[aeolianblues]

39-year-old Mina Tran is an unabashed “sad beige mum” – a woman determined to keep the garish implements of childhood at bay, and instead foster a sober palette of beige-on-beige. “You won’t see my kids in primary or secondary colours unless it’s pyjamas,” says Tran. Polychromatic plastic toys? Forget about it. A Technicolour playroom, even? “We have one play area and that play area is also the living space. I don’t want to stare at something hot pink and neon green every day,” she says. So that is also a resounding no.

“It’s a look that’s all over Instagram,” says Isabelle Gregory, the 25-year-old owner of a beige-on-beige home in Hampshire. “There is a fresh and clean feel to it.”

“‘Sad beige’ is spot on for me, because that’s what I feel when I see it,” says Keith Recker, a trend forecaster and colour specialist. “From a zeitgeist point of view, I think beige is a retreat from prevailing narratives.” That is to say, politics, war and imminent climate catastrophe. “It’s a neutral zone – you don’t have to take a stand. It’s conservative.”

-------------

Gross, gross, gross, gross; I'm going out and buying a neon pink shirt in defiance of this. I'm wearing a bright purple shirt tomorrow to counter this madness. Calvin Harris said it in 2007: 'Please make sure you've got some colours in there'. I will live by this. I will never surrender my colours!!

[cobalt-axolotl]

The digivolution line for Gregory’s guilmon int the second series of my Digimon x fnaf fusion au

[grimandgrimmer]

Omae wa mo shinderu...

I was working on my essay in my university café and well this dumb ass normie loser came up to me and i destroyed him... he didn't even se it coming.

INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Chad, a typical jock with a backwards baseball cap and a cocky smile, approaches a table where Mark Gregory Slaughterhouse is sitting, typing furiously on his laptop.

CHAD: (smirking) What's up, nerd? What kind of weird shit are you writing about now, Mark?

MGS: (looking up, with a smirk of his own) Oh, just some thoughts on the existential futility of existence and the oppressive nature of societal norms. But I doubt any of that would interest you, Chad.

CHAD: (laughs) Whoa, deep stuff, man. But you know what's really important? Winning the big game this weekend. That's what life's all about loser.

MGS: (chuckles) Ah, the allure of superficial victory in a meaningless competition. How profound, Chad. But tell me, have you ever stopped to ponder the inherent emptiness of basing your self-worth on such trivial pursuits?

CHAD: (confused) What are you talking about, dude? I'm trying to have a good time and be successful. Why are you such a downer all the time?

MGS: (leaning back in his chair, a glint of mischief in his eye) Ah, Chad. Ignorance truly is bliss, isn't it? But remember, it's only when we question the status quo and challenge our preconceived notions that we truly begin to understand the depth and complexity of the human experience.

Chad blinks, at a loss for words, as Mark returns his gaze to the screen, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

FADE OUT.

---

NOTE:

I wrote out the situation as a script as I know my fans would want to recreate it. Be sure to send me the clips.

[cryptidswitch]

The Story of Pasha Marizovna of Baldur's Gate

This is the tale of Pasha Marizovna, a child of misfortune (story under the cut)

Pasha was born the fifth child of Ivar and Elissabet Marizovna, and from birth she was expected to lead a hard life. She had been born a month early and her four brothers (Ivar the Younger, Gregori, Jakob, and Nikolai) constantly called her a runt. She was small for her age, but she was a fighter. She made it through infancy against all expectations and earned the love of her mother when she realized that Pasha was going to live her life.

The Marizovna family has long been in the line of smithing, making all sorts of fine weaponry and armor for hundreds of years. Ivar had been training all his sons in the business, though the only one who cared about it was Ivar the Younger, set on taking over the family business one day. As Pasha grew older she began working around the workshop doing smaller tasks such as stoking the fires and making sure the oil and water barrels stayed full and clean. She watched as her father taught her brothers, deeply fascinated by the work, and she promised herself that one day she'd make such beautiful weapons.

When Pasha grew older, hitting her sixteenth year, her father who had ignored his only daughter most of her life began to notice that Pasha was smithing when the men had left the workshop for the day. She had taken any cast off or left over material and began creating her own billets to make whatever she had enough material to make. After one of her late night smithing sessions, her father surprised her in the workshop. She had expected him to be furious with her, but when he walked in he took her dagger she had made and studied it intently for a long, quiet moment. He had expected this girl's work to be shoddy, but instead it had been nearly perfect, as if he had made it from scrap himself. From then on, Pasha was included in the smithing lessons.

When suitors began to come calling for Pasha, Elissa tried to persuade her daughter to consider her options, but Pasha wasn't interested in becoming some normal house wife. Ever suitor she met with asked her if she would consider giving up the smithing, and every time she said no. Eventually, Pasha started arriving to the meetings with her suitors covered in dirt and ash from the workshop as a test of fortitude, no one passed the test. Pasha refused to give up her passions to appease someone else and she wasn't even sure if a man was what she wanted anyway.

Pasha turned twenty-five and now her father was running the books and front of the store while Ivar the Younger and Pasha ran the workshop. Gregori was off in war, Jakob had married and was off living in the country side as a farmer, and Nikolai was going to the university to study magic, it had truly just been her and Ivar the Younger now. Pasha had been working on developing her own distinct damascus patterns in her swords, it had been her pride and joy. She came into the shop every day, worked on the orders, and then at night would craft beautifully patterned blades for the shop. She had never felt more joy than when she held a well crafted weapon in her hands. It had all been a perfect cycle to life until one day, her mother grew ill. She volunteered to walk to the alchemist's shop herself and quickly took off through the city.

Along the way, a suitor who she had turned down caught her attention and wanted to talk to her. Alek started to ask her for a second chance but when she once again turned him down, she heard the softest whisper in her ear and found herself growing heavy with sleep. Alek snagged her into his arms and quickly bundled her up in the back of his wagon before anyone could see them on this side street.

When Pasha awoke from her magic induced sleep, she was on an altar in a temple she hadn't recognized. The smell of blood was in the air and the soft sounds of chanting were all around her, she couldn't move anything except her head. When she looked into the crowd, she saw her brother Nikolai standing next to Alek and she began to weep. Her own brother offered her up for sacrifice, she had no idea what she had done to deserve this but she was furious and terrified all at once. She didn't understand the chanting and she watched in horror as she realized that a sickly looking man was standing over her on the opposite side with a raised dagger in his hand. She studied the dagger and with a shock realized she was about to be murdered by one of her own daggers! She wept uncontrollably and they called Nikolai up to make her stop.

When he arrived at her side he smiled a gentle smile and whispered in her ear, "Do not cry my baby sister, I have been studying Bhaal for so long now. It is an honor to be the new vessel for our leader! When they were trying to find someone, I knew he loved your beautiful knives and I thought it a serendipitous moment for both of us! Soon, you'll house our leader and I'll be your right hand! It is too perfect, so do not weep, I will hold your memory near my heart forever and be reminded of it every time I look to our leader."

Pasha's heart sank, this was it. This was how she was going to go out in this world. She closed her eyes, unable to believe any of this, and quickly after the chanting reached a height, she felt HER dagger slice down along her arm. Another arm pressed to hers, she refused to look at them, and a set of cold dry lips pressed to her own. A spell was uttered and she felt a searing white pain scream through her skull. She was rapidly overwhelmed by the pain and found herself in a plane where she could be alone.

It was over, whoever was in her body now, was in the driver's seat and she was just...here.

Or at least she thought so, until she felt a squirming feeling and a bright light over took her. Suddenly she was thrust back into the driver's seat, though she found she couldn't recall anything of her past. She could feel the heat from the fire and the wooshing of the air through the broken hull of the Illithid ship. She tried to conjure her name, but was only answered by the seductive whisper in her mind

The Dark Urge

This is Pasha's backstory! I know it doesn't jive with in game lore for Dark Urge but frankly this was what I thought of for her so we're gonna roll with it xD

This is just a quick broad overview I typed up before the baby woke up so I hope you enjoy!

[cocktailsfairytales]

All the Silent Bones

by Gregory Funaro

Publication date: June 9th 2025

Genres: Adult, Horror, Psychological Thriller

Synopsis:

When they were boys, Ray Dawley, Eddie Sayers, and Matthew Kauffman were the best of friends. Then new kid Bobby “Bones” Bonetti fell through the ice at Blackamore Pond. The other boys saved Bobby from drowning, but something else came out of the water that day, something dangerous that would tear their friendship apart and set one of them on a dark path.

Forty years after the incident on the ice, Ray, a retired college professor, has moved back into his childhood home. Eddie is a retired homicide detective, and Matthew is a successful investment banker. Bobby, who is on disability from his job as a corrections officer at a juvenile detention center, has a secret: the darkness that found him under the ice when he was a kid has made him do terrible things.

Following a reunion at Ray’s house, Matthew is found murdered in his car beside the old pond. The killer includes a chilling message that only the three remaining friends would recognize. Could one of their own be a murderer?

All the Silent Bones, a tense and disturbing thriller told from alternating perspectives of morally complex characters, explores the lasting impact of childhood trauma and its influence on adult relationships.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/231523813-all-the-silent-bones

Purchase:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3HoYIwR

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/all-the-silent-bones-gregory-funaro/1147398934

AUTHOR BIO:

Gregory Funaro is the NY Times best selling author of Disney-Hyperion's ALISTAIR GRIM'S ODDITORIUM (an Amazon Best Book of the Month for January, 2015) and ALISTAIR GRIM'S ODD AQUATICUM (2016), which received a Kirkus starred review. WATCH HOLLOW (HarperCollins, 2019) received starred reviews from School Library Journal and ALA Booklist, and was a Junior Library Guild Gold Standard Selection. The exciting sequel, WATCH HOLLOW: THE ALCHEMIST'S SHADOW, was published in February of 2020. He has also written two thrillers, THE SCULPTOR and THE IMPALER, for Kensington/Pinnacle. Gregory is a professor emeritus and lives with his family in Rhode Island, where he is busy working on his next novel. Please visit his official web site at www.gregoryfunaro.com.

Author links:

https://www.gregoryfunaro.com/

https://www.instagram.com/gregory.funaro/

https://amzn.to/4kt09cu

https://x.com/GregoryFunaro

https://www.facebook.com/GregoryFunaro/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3144748.Gregory_Funaro

GIVEAWAY

Blitz-wide giveaway (INT)

$25 Amazon gift card

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d04251235976/

Hosted by Xpresso Book Tours

[faultyconscience]

@unbeleveable said: ❛  you're the most insufferable person i have ever met.  ❜ (eleanor for house)

House clenched his fist in victory, turning to his whiteboard where four tally marks were drawn in black ink. He picked up the nearest marker, drawing another line to mark five. Then he turned back to the woman. "Thank you, you just helped me win a bet."

[fmp2rubix1786]

Hot Shots! (1991).

AI Prompt: Hot Shots! (1991).

Hot Shots! (1991)

Director: Jim Abrahams Writers: Jim Abrahams, Pat Proft Main Parody Target: Top Gun (1986) Other Inspirations: Dances with Wolves, 9½ Weeks, Superman, Rocky, and war movie clichés

Overview

Hot Shots! is a hilarious parody of action films, particularly Top Gun, but it also spoofs war movies, romance films, and over-the-top military tropes.

Filled with absurd slapstick humor, sight gags, puns, and ridiculous dialogue, it stars Charlie Sheen as Topper Harley, a fighter pilot with a tragic past, daddy issues, and an ego to match.

Plot Summary

Topper Harley (Charlie Sheen) is a disgraced fighter pilot who quit the Navy due to his father’s bad reputation. He’s called back for a top-secret mission, but his personal demons (and sheer ridiculousness) threaten to get in the way.

Best Parody Moments & Running Gags

1. Topper Harley = A More Absurd Maverick (Top Gun Spoof)

Topper is a cocky yet deeply insecure pilot, just like Tom Cruise’s Maverick in Top Gun.

His tragic backstory is exaggerated to ridiculous levels—his father was responsible for the deaths of several pilots due to a freak accident involving a buffalo falling from a plane. 🦬✈️

He’s haunted by his past, but mostly uses it as an excuse to be dramatic.

2. The Training Camp is Beyond Ridiculous

Pilots work out with laughably oversized dumbbells 💪.

One pilot rides a mechanical bull… for combat training.

There’s a “stealth” training exercise where everyone is covered in leaves, even though it’s completely unnecessary.

This mocks action movie training montages, where soldiers do random, excessive training that has nothing to do with actual missions.

3. The Romance Scene – 9½ Weeks & Top Gun Spoof

Topper and Ramada’s love scene is exaggerated to absurdity:

Ramada fries bacon and eggs on Topper’s chest. 🍳🔥

They use a bow and arrow to shoot grapes into each other’s mouths. 🍇🎯

The lighting is so overly dramatic that it changes the entire mood of the scene multiple times.

This mocks the steamy, overly dramatic romance scenes in 80s and 90s movies.

4. The Rivalry Between Topper & Kent (Classic “Tough Guy” Trope)

Kent Gregory (Cary Elwes) is the perfect, smug, all-American golden boy who competes with Topper.

They have a hilariously passive-aggressive rivalry, with Kent constantly reminding everyone that he’s the superior pilot.

The film exaggerates rivalries from movies like Top Gun, where two alpha males try to outdo each other in every possible way.

5. The Mission is Complete Nonsense

The final mission is over-the-top ridiculous:

Topper shoots down enemy planes with bullets, missiles, and eventually… chickens. 🐔🔫

The enemy forces are laughably incompetent, and their planes explode at the slightest touch.

The villains wear cartoonishly evil mustaches, just to make sure you know they’re bad guys.

This mocks war movies that take themselves too seriously, turning the battle into a cartoon-like spectacle.

Why It’s a Brilliant Parody

1. Rapid-Fire Jokes & Gags

Hot Shots! uses ZAZ-style (Zucker, Abrahams, and Zucker) humor, meaning it’s packed with visual gags, puns, and absurd dialogue.

Nearly every scene contains multiple jokes, rewarding rewatching.

Example: A pilot asks for a cigarette mid-mission. Another replies, “We’re out of cigarettes.” Instead of a lighter, the pilot pulls out a full barbecue grill to light his cigar. 😂

2. Parody Without Cruelty

Instead of just making fun of Top Gun, the film celebrates its tropes while exaggerating them.

It pokes fun at military heroism, romance, and action clichés, but never feels mean-spirited.

Even Topper Harley, despite his many flaws, is ultimately a likable hero.

3. Strong Cast & Performances

Charlie Sheen plays the lead with the perfect mix of sincerity and cluelessness.

Lloyd Bridges as Admiral Benson steals every scene with his complete incompetence (he confuses his medals for candy and forgets where he is mid-sentence).

Valeria Golino (Ramada) plays the love interest straight-faced, making her absurd scenes even funnier.

Legacy & Influence

Hot Shots! was a box office hit and is still considered one of the best parody films ever.

Inspired future parody films like Austin Powers, Scary Movie, and Tropic Thunder.

It was successful enough to get a sequel: Hot Shots! Part Deux (1993), which parodies Rambo and other action war movies.

This is a trailer to the film, that also parodies how people who watch the film get inteviewed, they are paid to say it was really good.

[lyamobrian]

CAPITULO 8: El Poder Que No Puedo Controlar.

El ambiente en la casa de los Rhodes estaba cargado de una tensión palpable. La familia de Dylan, sentada en la mesa, observaba atentamente a los padres de Ryan, como si cada palabra que se pronunciara pudiera cambiarlo todo. Roland Rhodes, el padre de Dylan, rompió el silencio con una voz profunda, cargada de preocupación.

—Tenemos que hablar de lo que ocurrió anoche, —dijo, mirando a los padres de Ryan. La atmósfera estaba cargada de una extraña calma, pero se sentía que algo más grande estaba en juego.

Gregory y Evelyn, los padres de Ryan, no podían disimular la culpa que los embargaba. Habían estado ocultando la verdad durante años. Aunque no eran los padres biológicos de Ryan, siempre habían cuidado de él, siendo los verdaderos brujos quienes los habían tomado bajo su tutela. Y ahora que los padres de Dylan ya conocían la verdad sobre el mundo sobrenatural, todo parecía haberse complicado aún más.

—El consejo se ha reunido, —continuó Roland, su voz grave. Los ojos de los padres de Ryan brillaban con una mezcla de culpabilidad y ansiedad. Sabían que el momento de enfrentar la realidad había llegado. El consejo, formado por representantes de todas las especies, estaba en alerta. Las tensiones entre las criaturas sobrenaturales habían alcanzado niveles insostenibles.

—¿Qué pasó exactamente anoche? —preguntó Evelyn, la voz temblorosa. A pesar de que ya conocían la existencia de seres sobrenaturales, los eventos de la noche anterior los habían sacudido. Era claro que lo que fuera que había ocurrido, no era algo común.

—No lo sabemos, —respondió Roland, su mirada fija y seria—. Pero el consejo está preocupado. Todos los brujos, vampiros, hombres lobo y otras criaturas en un radio de 300 kilómetros lo han sentido. Es un evento que no podemos ignorar.

Ryan observaba en silencio. No entendía completamente lo que estaba sucediendo, pero algo dentro de él, una sensación vaga y lejana, le decía que todo esto tenía que ver con él. Recordó la magia que había sentido, esa chispa de poder que había invadido su cuerpo en la noche del ataque. No sabía qué lo había desencadenado ni cómo lo había hecho, pero lo sentía, como si un cambio estuviera en marcha dentro de él.

Dylan estaba parado cerca de la ventana, observando el paisaje, pero Ryan no podía ignorar la forma en que sus ojos se posaban en él, con una intensidad tan fuerte que casi lo incomodaba. Dylan no decía nada, pero su cuerpo hablaba por él. La forma en que se mantenía alerta, como si estuviera dispuesto a proteger a Ryan de algo, le hacía sentir una mezcla de confusión y... algo más. Dylan no lo sabía, pero el deseo que sentía por él era imposible de ocultar.

—Nosotros... —dijo Gregory, sintiendo la presión de la situación. Miró a Roland, con una expresión grave—. Nos hemos mantenido al margen, lo sabemos. Pero ahora, con todo esto, ¿qué debemos hacer?

Roland hizo una pausa, mirando a los padres de Ryan. La tensión era evidente en su rostro, y su voz se suavizó un poco al hablar.

—Lo único que podemos hacer es esperar, —dijo con firmeza. —El consejo está tomando cartas en el asunto, pero nadie sabe qué significa esto. Sabemos que es grave. Y no podemos permitirnos subestimarlo.

Ryan asintió, aunque en el fondo se sentía más perdido que nunca. Había una magia dentro de él que no podía controlar, y ni siquiera entendía de dónde provenía. Recordó lo que había sucedido en la noche del ataque, cómo había sentido ese poder recorriendo su cuerpo, y aunque no sabía cómo lo había hecho, sentía que estaba vinculado a algo mucho más grande de lo que había imaginado.

Dylan se acercó a él, con una mirada cargada de emociones no dichas, pero Ryan no sabía qué hacer con eso. No entendía por qué se sentía así, por qué Dylan lo miraba de esa manera, como si no solo fuera su amigo, sino algo más. Pero la confusión no era solo por la situación sobrenatural; era porque el vínculo entre ellos, lo que sea que fuera, comenzaba a sentirse más real, más intenso.

—¿Y qué pasa con la magia? —preguntó Ryan, rompiendo el silencio, su voz baja. Miró a sus padres, buscando respuestas. —Yo... yo no sé qué sucedió. No sé cómo lo hice, pero... hay algo dentro de mí. Algo que no entiendo.

Dylan no apartó la mirada, y sus ojos brillaron con una mezcla de preocupación y deseo. Era claro que, aunque intentaba mantenerse distante, su instinto protector hacia Ryan no hacía más que crecer.

—Por ahora, lo único que podemos hacer es esperar y mantenernos alertas, —respondió Roland, con tono grave. —Lo peor que podríamos hacer es actuar sin tener toda la información. Nadie sabe qué podría traer este evento.

Ryan asintió, aunque sabía que eso no sería suficiente. Algo dentro de él le decía que este era solo el comienzo.

[organic-music]

18:52 LETSGOOOOO

Mamma ringde runt 11, och vi pratade om den nya lägenheten vi ska flytta till snart och om hur det kommer att bli för mig efter operationen. Sen ringde pappa och frågade om hur det går för mig! Jag pratar sällan med mina föräldrar, men det var ganska trevligt idag.

Jag och några på KY spelade upp våra psalmläxor för varandra i kapellet innan lunch, och det var jättebra! Tydligen har jag spelat psalm 182 lite långsamt🤔 Jag orkade inte öva mer efter lunch så jag letade efter en bok att läsa i biblioteket (hittade ingen) så jag STAL en tröja!. Nej, men jag tog en. Det finns ett rum på skolan där man kan ta och lämna något, vilket jag tycker är fint. Jag tog en långärmad tröja som är grå/brun. Den är jätteskön. Jag kommer hämta något hemifrån att lämna så småningom.

Efter det har jag funderat över meningen med livet på mitt rum. Jag fällde några tårar till Meonie and Kitchi av Gregory and the Hawk och Bachs cellosvit i G. Jag är stressad och ganska självkritisk. Jag absolut avskyr att öva när jag är trött eller omotiverad (jag är det ofta, dessutom är jag ganska dålig på att ta pauser) det känns rent utsagt plågsamt att sitta med mig själv i övningsrummet de stunderna.

Som tur är så har jag börjat prata med mina pentryvänner, och det känns som en tröst!

Här är schemat jag har gjort för mig själv. Önska mig lycka till nu!

[starlingsrps]

more hearts than mine.

“i’m not nervous.”

jess sighs and rolls her eyes before returning to shaping a curl at the back of dorey’s head.. “oh yes dorothea, tell me again how very not nervous you are to have a friend over for dinner. i don’t think we heard you the first 84,000 times.”

“i’m not!” dorey hates this. they spent the night in clapham last night. jessa had set her hair and they’d slept in their old bedroom and it turns her into a teenager again in the worst way. 

“tragic.”

“i am not tragic.”

jane, sprawled across the bed with a desperately trashy romance novel hums in agreement. she doesn’t need to be in here - she took over cas’ room in the attic when he moved to ireland and is supposed to only be out for meals while she revises for exams. jane has a nose for gossip that would be an old biddy to shame though and dorey is sure that she could somehow spin that regency buck somehow helpful to gross anatomy. “bit tragic.”

lieutenant halstead is coming to sunday lunch and while dorey had been happy enough when the invitation had been extended, she’s now prepared to kill her family, change her name, and flee to the bahamas. jessa is one thing - if jessa wasn’t teasing her, she’d think something was terribly wrong. her mother? fine. jane is a step too far. she’s the elder, there should be some scrap of respect there. 

(she and jessa are different, they’re nearly equals.)

“there you go, love,” jessa says, smoothing dorey’s hair with the comb a final time. “very pretty for your not at all date with with sid. pink lipstick, not red.”

dorey shoots her a dark look int he vanity mirror and reaches for the red out of petulance. she’s not the best at doing her hair and jessa is, that’s all. if jessa does it right on sunday, then it will look nice for the week. it’s simple logic. “it’s not a date. you lot are here.”

“please, as though you wouldn’t ask me to come along if it were.”

jane sits up on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes. “i wouldn’t say pie with the family is the most sensual of meals.” she comes over to the vanity, selects a perfume and spritzes her wrists. “a banana eaten extremely slowly perhaps.”

“dorey, your friend is here!”

for some reasons, jessa and jane exchange a look that has them erupting into laughter. dorey stands, bumping her on purpose. that only seems to make them laugh harder.

he does look very handsome in the uniform. he always seems a bit rumpled when they see him but he’s pressed and spit polished today. he clearly tried and the effort touches the soft, spongey part of her that knows she didn’t have jessa fix her hair just so it would look nice for the week. he’s introducing himself to mum and glances up the stairs as they come down, flashing her a quick warm smile.

perhaps she’s a bit tragic.

mum actually giggles when he calls her mrs. mason and dorey prays for the ceiling to cave in. “catherine, if you please,” she says, her cheeks flushed. “you know jessa and dorey, of course. this is my youngest daughter, jane. our cas is in ireland on business. and gregory,” she adds hastily as dad comes in from the sitting room, bringing an arctic blast with him.

“gregory, is it a wee bit chilly in there?”

“the blasted heat pump again,” dad says apologetically, as though the heat pump is within his control. 

“i can take a look at it,” sid offers. “i’m pretty handy.”

mum looks at him as though he’s offered to perform a miracle soley for their entertainment. “would you? gregory! the tools!”

she shows them to the sitting room before excusing herself and dragging jane and jessa after her to the kitchen to finish lunch. he drapes his uniform jacket over the back of a chair and unbuttons his sleeves to roll them back. dorey looks away, suddenly fascinated by the rabbit shaped crack in the ceiling. she’s not some medieval maiden, wilting at the sight of a man’s wrists. she’s an educated, modern woman. she was raised with a copy of married love on the shelves, for god’s sake, and lived through the most excruciatingly thorough explanation of sex in human history. she owns a dutch cap and can find her own damn clitoris and has no business being this bloody foolish over forearms. 

he does have very nice hands though and she’s simply noticing.

dad reappears with the box designated for tools that lives on the top shelf of the hall closet. “should be something in here, i reckon.”

sid glances in the box. “sir, do you have a wrench?” he quickly sketches out the general shape of a wrench in the air and dad furrows his brow.

“i’ll pop next door.” 

“there’s just tape and a hammer in here.” he roots a little more in the box after he leaves. “and…a lincoln log.”

“i don’t think we’ve ever needed anything else.”

he shakes his head and crouches to look at the heat pump. “i mean, you can do a lot with tape but…” he frowns and reaches out, fiddles with something on the side. “you should probably still have a wrench.”

“i know what to get him for his birthday is next month then.”

he snorts out a laugh and continues fiddling until there’s a knock at the door and the sound of jessa’s high heels clicking quickly against the floor. “is someone else coming?”

“oh, damnit,” dorey mutters at the sound of rupert’s faux velvet voice in the hall. “jessa’s…rupert. standing invitation, only comes about six point seven percent of the time.”

he gives her one of his fond looks that make her feel as sturdy as jelly. “six point seven percent exactly, right?”

though the sound of rupert’s voice sets her on edge, she still smiles in response. “exactly.”

jessa steers him into the sitting room. “dorey, look who decided to join us.”

“hello, rupert,” dorey forces out. being polite to rupert always chafes at her. he’s every boy she knew at cambridge rolled into one person, arrogant and priggish with an allergy to being kind to anyone who can’t provide him with something. what jessa sees in him, she’s yet to  determine. “nice to see you.”

he nods and peers around dorey. “and who is this?”

“sid.” he stands and wipes dust off of his hands. “you didn’t happen to bring a wrench, did you?”

“rupert darling, do you have a wrench?”

“why the hell would i have a wrench, jessamine dearest?” his arm loops possessively around jessa’s waist and he looks at sid like he might be the repairman. sid looks back at him at dorey sees a glint of steel in his eyes. their acquaintance hasn’t been long but she already knows very well that he doesn’t care to be talked down to. “rupert parke-gibbs,” he says loftily, holding out his hand for a more formal introduction. “always a pleasure to meet an american cousin.”

“lieutenant sidney halstead,” he says finally, shaking rupert’s hand. from rupert’s wince, she can tell that he did it a little harder than strictly necessary. “likewise.”

“leftenant,” rupert says. 

a muscle jumps in sid’s jaw. “never understood why you all throw an f in there when there isn’t one in the first place.”

“well, it’s proper.” rupert’s tone and smile are sticky as treacle and dorey is struck by the urge to kick him in the shins to see what accent comes out. “good that you’re here then, old chap. never too late to teach an old dog new tricks.”

jessa seems to recognize whatever tension seems to have sprung up and takes rupert by the hand. “my love, let’s go have a drink. dorey and the lieutenant seem to have it in hand.”

sid rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and takes a deep breath before looking back at her. “was he wearing three scarves?”

“oh probably.”

“he seems,” he pauses, struggling for a word.

“like a horse’s ass?”

sid smiles. “you said it, not me. c’mere, i’ll show you what’s wrong so you can show your dad.”

he’s been here ten minutes and already knows better than to explain it to dad - he’ll forget in five minutes. she joins him on the floor, tucking her dress around her thighs. he shows her where a gasket is blown, explains what the hell a gasket is and guides her hand to show her where the blasted gasket is. he does have very nice hands, strong and capable, and he’s better at explaining this than she would have expected from him. 

dad returns with the wrench from lloyd next door and presents it to him like excalibur. he seems delighted to be given the job of finding a rubber band and some foil, bringing both back before wandering away to find a glass of wine. dorey stays on the rug with sid while he takes apart the…well she still doesn’t quite know what he’s taking apart and only just learned what a gasket is but she knows where it is now. it’s oddly nice, watching him work. he’s always said that he’s better with machines and parts than much of anything else and she’s always enjoyed watching people do the things they’re best at. 

from the kitchen, she hears rupert say something smart about chocolate and stockings for the ladies. that muscle in sid’s jaw tics again. “fucker,” he mutters. he pauses in wrapping the rubber band in foil and looks at dorey. “pardon.”

“ignore him. we do for the most part.”

“all six point seven percent of the time?”

“i don’t even try. there’s no need for him to be rude to you.”

“i’m used to it.”

“he’s just mad you’ve made yourself more useful in ten minutes than he has in three years.”

“they don't find you handsome, they better find you handy.” he says, tightening something and leaning back on his heels. “there we go. jerry rigged but it’ll hold for awhile. i can see about finding a real one but it could be a bitch to replace.” he shrugs again and stands. “i’m sure there’s something.”

“thank you. god knows how long they would have waited to fix it otherwise.” she takes his hand when offered to stand herself. when she’s righted, he doesn’t immediately let go. he squeezes once and her mouth goes dry.

“how are the repairs coming along?” mum comes bustling into the room followed closely by dad. dorey has never been so thankful for an interruption to save her from saying or doing something stupid before. “was it terrible?”

“all fixed, mrs. mason,” he says, slowly releasing dorey’s hand. “it needs a new part but i’ll see if i can find it.”

“sidney, you’re a darling,” mum kisses him on the cheek and his ears turn a bit red at the tips. “we’ll not freeze to death yet.”

“no trouble, ma’am.”

“catherine, please. come along you two, time for lunch.” she takes sid by the arm and steers them towards the dining room. “do you like woolton pie?”

“i can’t say i have much of an opinion. what is it?”

dorey picks up the wrench from the carpet and hand it to dad. “don’t forget to give it back to lloyd,” she says, knowing full well that she may as well take it back herself when she and jessa leave. if they don’t, it will live on the hall table until lloyd comes round next like an awkward art piece. 

“i won’t, i won’t.” he taps it against his palm. “he seems like a nice lad. hardy.”

“he’s been a good friend for us.” she tries to emphasize the words friend and us.

dad snorts and drops a kiss on top of her head. “naturally. well, even if he’s just a friend you’ve still done better than rupert.”

[petalsmooth]

Part of why I like Bridgerton is the humor.

It crops up in unexpected places. Clearly here control is lost of the hot air balloon. It's supposed to be a dramatic moment and a heroic moment and I'm sure it's that.

But.

But!

The person who came up with the idea of Ben barely hanging on at the end? It's just priceless. Maybe it was direction, or writing, or the actor or collaborative among them all but it's hysterical next to the shot of his younger brother who spent 6 months with sailors, traveling etc...who somehow found time to strip his coat off (also funny) and lead the heroic effort who doesn't look winded at all.

And I love the characters, not hating but honestly...there are things about Bridgerton that are so totally fiction in how presented. But Ben who sleeps off late nights of debauchery and hangovers etc and if not that spends most of his time in studio on his butt painting...having him struggling is actually pretty realistic. And as I said...hilarious.

Some of his fans are offended but dudes one...get a sense of humor. Two...he's there trying to help. Unlike many of his other out of shape compatriots on the side. He gets props for that. But yeah...if you spend most of your time in gambling dens, brothels, late night parties eating, drinking, doing drugs, sleeping the morning away, sex and painting not sure why they find it offensive if he's not Captain America there.

His brothers do some of the other things (not painting) but well Colin obviously spends a lot of time outside as he was traveling and I get the sense wasn't just cooped up in his room on the ship. Probably pitched in there. Probably a lot of hiking and who knows what else depending on what other locales explored. Swimming in the ocean is a possibility. And Anthony, the show has clearly shown he liked riding horses and while I get it's not really shown on the show as Viscount probably tours the various land holdings to see what repairs to authorize or inspecting the soil etc...so he's outside walking the land quite a bit too. We don't see Anthony there helping with the balloon but just saying...

But if the show follows the book Benedict actually ends up living int he country so eventually will probably get more fresh air and exercise. lol

Now Gregory is just a kid and I'm still wondering if he shot an arrow or caused the balloon disaster in some way. He may be in the balloon but he may also be the reason it was out of control. That kid has all the hallmarks of being a troublemaker. Good natured...but many grey hairs given.