#midweek reblog!

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

The Many Illustrators of A Tale of Two Cities 12: Walter G. Grieve

...& I get to catch a bit of a break...

This week's iteration of the Illustrators series is a very simple one.

In my Internet-digging, I have found several different versions of A Tale of Two Cities which used the beautiful illustration by Walter Graham Grieve pictured above, and for a long time I'd thought it was simply a frontispiece - it was very common for an artist to only create one frontispiece illustration for a book rather than an entire series.

Imagine my surprise when I was finally able to go through one of these versions* (most weren't fully accessible - just the first few pages or images on a shopping website) and stumbled upon two more illustrations!

...just two! That's it!

I went through the whole book, and all I was able to find were the three total that you see here. Occasionally, an individual scan or entire edition will for whatever reason leave out some illustrations (as we have seen), but maybe Walter G. Grieve really did only make 3 total illustrations for the book. This version is also coupled with The Uncommercial Traveller, for which it looks like he also created one illustration - that could have something to do with it. Really makes you wonder!

Ultimately, I would have loved to have seen more of his work...but hey, in terms of putting his post together, it does make my life easier!

& the standard endnote for all posts in this series:

This post is intended to act as the start of a forum on the given illustrator, so if anyone has anything to add - requests to see certain drawings in higher definition (since Tumblr compresses images), corrections to factual errors, sources for better-quality versions of the illustrations, further reading, fun facts, any questions, or just general commentary - simply do so on this post, be it in a comment/tags or the replies!💫

*technically the version I originally found was a different scan of this exact print copy of the book, but I just found this better scan today so I'm using it here instead!

[aestheticallynotdeerlightful]

So that new jimmy solidarity episode huh.

[tllgrrl]

Chapter 3 just dropped after no updates for a while. So good to see this writer is back with more SarahBucky goodness!

Moderation by @samwontshare (Attaining)

Summary: Sarah gets some perspective... and a lot of alcohol.

[officialleobrown36]

Midweek Thoughts:

Odd? What's wrong with begin an oddity? If it weren't for the "odd" ones. There'd be no bad girls or life-changing history. 😘❤🌻

[sinkingnotsoslowly]

Menace

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader (pronouns not mentioned)

Non-idol au, fluff, very little angst

technically is a part 2 of this fic but could be read as a standalone

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

“Why aren’t you dating anyone Minho?”

Minho stops devouring his pudding to gawk at you. “I’m not questioning your decision to stay single but why are you really not dating?”, you ask.

“Because you haven’t said yes yet”, he goes back to eating his pudding as if he didn’t just say the most outlandish thing.

“Yes to what?”

Minho rolls his eyes in feigned annoyance, “Yes to me asking you to date me, duh”

“Ugh be serious Minho”, you huff.

“What makes you think I’m not serious (yn)?” he looks at you with something in his eyes that you can’t decipher. “I think I should head back now, my break ended ten minutes ago”, with that gets up and walks out of the café.

This was two weeks ago and it still hasn’t left your mind. It is not unlike Minho to randomly ask you out on a date but you never take him seriously. He always jokes about how you two should just marry each other if you were still single at thirty. But that day at the café he did not seem like he was joking about you dating him. Did you hit a nerve by asking him that? But if he was indeed upset, he would tell you about it, you guys always talked things out if either of you were upset. He has been behaving perfectly normally since then.

“I ate pudding today”, you waited for him to continue but only silence followed. “Minho you called me in the middle of the day to say that you ate pudding?”, you asked. “Yeah, and it was so delicious. Buy me more when you come over. Anyways I got to go, bye”, the call ended. Yep, very Minho-like.

You met Minho at a college party and then proceeded to make out with him only stopping when you accidentally moaned your best friend’s name instead. But he never held it against you. You eventually opened up to him enough to tell him that you were in love with your best friend. The said best friend was getting married in a month. And you would be there, as a guest of course. To your surprise you weren’t exactly heartbroken when Seungmin called you, gasping for breath like he had run a marathon. You could almost hear him grinning his puppy grin, “She said yes”.

Just because you were not heartbroken did not mean you were not sad. After all, there were years of pining, wishing that one day he would finally realise that the love of his life was always in front of him. That did not happen. You guys graduated, you got a job, he went for higher studies and found someone there. That night Minho came over with beer and let you ugly sob on his shoulder. Since college, he has always been there with you, your graduation, your first job, bad dates, going out for drinks on Friday nights and talking shit about your bosses. You thought he was good for you; a great friend.

“I’m going on a date tomorrow”, Minho said while setting up his laptop for the movie. It was your weekly movie night at his place, “Thought I should try getting out there”. He was still looking at the laptop avoiding your eyes. For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest. “Is this because of what I said? Minho I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“You didn’t upset me (yn). I’ve just been thinking of settling down”, he started the movie without further explanation. You wanted to press him on but you thought better of it.

You couldn’t concentrate on the movie. Throughout it, you kept thinking about what Minho said. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to settle down but you kept feeling uncomfortable with the image of Minho dating someone and then marrying her.

Minho has always been a menace but he became a little more annoying the next week. He always has this look on his face like he knows something you don’t and it has been eating at your brain. Midweek your composure breaks and you snap, “Ok what is it? Why do you look like you are up to no good?” At that Minho looks at you like you just sprouted two heads, “I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Oh you know what I’m talking about Minho”

Minho keeps looking at you like a cat who did not just knock off the flower vase, and then he blinked like a lightbulb went off in his head, “Ah right! Come over on Saturday I need help to pick out what I’ll wear for the date.”

The date. Right. He was just excited for the date. You felt your spirits dropping. Maybe in no time, you’ll be attending Minho’s wedding too, as a guest. Wait what? Why would you think that? How else would you want to attend a friend’s wedding if not as a guest?

Oh.

OH.

Oh no.

You stood up abruptly almost knocking over your half-drunk coffee on the table, “I-I have to go, I haven’t even started the new project yet”. Without sparing Minho another glance you grabbed your bag to just get away from him as fast as possible.

“Huh? That was sudden. Well don’t forget about Saturday.”

You faked a smile towards him, “Yes, yes, Saturday, I’ll be there.”

Saturday came faster than you could blink. And it seemed like the universe had a personal vendetta against you this week. Missed deadlines, unnecessary hourlong meetings, spilt coffee, missing the bus- you name it. At this point, only a year-long vacation could give some mental peace. And on top of that, you couldn’t stop thinking about Minho. You didn’t see each other again after that one day when you barely escaped humiliating yourself.

“Should I wear the blue button-down or the black one?”

“Black”

“Hmm, ok blue it is” menace.

“Why am I here Minho? Not like you are listening to me”, you were sitting on his bed munching on the last of honey butter chips Minho had stocked up. You spent the whole day buried in the blanket, wallowing in self-pity, and almost didn’t show up today. You even contemplated going back home while standing in front of Minho’s house. God knows what you were still doing there sitting in Minho’s bedroom while he dressed up for his date.

Minho looked at you through the mirror, scoffing, “For moral support of course”. He went back to styling his hair without another word.

“Well then if am done providing moral support to your honour, I’ll be taking my leave”, it was time for you to go back to the safety of your blankets and cry yourself to sleep since you did not seem fated to have requited love in this life. The only option left was arranged marriage.

Before you could leave Minho’s room you were stopped. “W-wait, don’t you have anything to tell me?” Minho asked. You turned around, brain going into overdrive. Why would he say that? Does he know about my feelings? Is he teasing me? Oh God please no. But what if-

“Like- are you okay with this? Me going on a date?” Ah, so he was just worried. How sweet. “Of course, I’m okay Minho. Why wouldn’t I be? This is completely your decision; you deserve to be happy-”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb (yn). Why can’t you just say it? Why can’t you just ask me not to go? Why can’t you tell me that you like me?” Minho paused, taking a breath to calm down, “I like you (yn). And I know you like me. There is no other girl. But I do have a reservation for dinner if you’re up for it”.

It would be an understatement to say that you were dumfounded. You had thought of many scenarios while laying awake in bed but not this. “Why didn’t you just confront me if you knew that I liked you?”, you asked, fiddling with the hem of your shirt which looked very interesting suddenly. Minho sighed, “I wasn’t sure at first. So I wanted to see your reaction by saying that I have a date. And it seemed like you weren’t sure about your feelings either. So are you up for it?”

“Huh?”

“The date. Do want to go on this date? Look I understand if you are pissed, and it’s fine if you say no-”

“Just drive me to my place so I can dress up atleast. You’re such a menace Lee Minho”

Minho grinned like a cat, “Yeah but now it’s too late to get rid off me. So this menace is now your responsibility”.

So you were fated to have requited love it seems.

masterlist

Autumn's sighs- little soft thoughts about our favourite boys

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 4

snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

hey again B) here is part 4 to Shameless, i hope you guys enjoy it, it gets a little soft at the end, and i mean a little. next chapter im hoping to explore reader and snape's relationship a little more, maybe some more tension im not sure... we shall see

thank you again for reading and supporting this fic with likes, reblogs, comments, everything! i really do appreciate it. :) love u guys

okaaaay LETS GOOO!

Another week and a half had passed and it was now a bitter and cold midweek morning. Since that interaction with Snape in the dungeons, you hadn't seen much of him since, nor really spoken to him. He'd rarely come to dinner in the Great Hall in the evenings, let alone breakfast or lunch. You were a little disappointed with this considering he'd given you permission to use his first name, it felt like he was allowing you into his space. Or at least, that's what your overactive mind was thinking. You thought about it deeper as time went on, and you'd reached the conclusion of it just being a professional thing. It bothered you a little, of course, considering how you felt about him.

You'd just finished teaching a class of fifth-years, preparing them for a mock test on Monday. The lesson was rather smooth-going, apart from having to tend to a student's finger after they were bitten by a fanged geranium. After the whole debacle on your first day back teaching at Hogwarts, you were rather glad that only a bitey flower had gone rogue in this morning's lesson.

Presently, you were currently strolling to the Great Hall, dressed in rather nice, muted yellow-gold robes. You were always proud to represent Hufflepuff colours, you took pride in being sorted in that house after all. The mood at Hogwarts was a little low and cautious, considering students were turning up Petrified at every other corner you turned. Luckily, you had not come across one yet, you didn't think you'd be able to stomach it.

The Dueling Club was due to begin today, with Lockhart hosting it. You'd also heard that a teacher had agreed to help Lockhart with the beginning demonstration. Intrigued, of course, you couldn't miss one of your colleagues shooting a spell towards the bane of your existence.

So here you were, standing to the side in the Great Hall, watching the hustle and bustle of students and teachers eagerly awaiting for the show to start - this is Lockhart we're talking about. A table had been set up in the middle of the Hall, a pretty blue and gold tapestry draped over the top of it, dotted with astrology art. Students surrounded the table, giggling and talking excitedly about what could happen. Or, what could possibly go wrong? you pondered, smiling to yourself.

Soon enough, the man in question had hopped up onto the table. "Gather round! Gather round!" Lockhart's screeching voice reached your ears as you watched him strut across the table, one arm gesturing theatrically at the students. "Can everybody see me?" He questioned, looking at the students with bright eyes. Unfortunately, yes, you thought. "Can you all… hear me? Excellent." Lockhart said, quickly spinning on his heel, the cape attached to his bodice twirling with him elegantly. "In the light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves; as I myself have done on countless occasions."

You fought against a laugh in the back of your throat, choosing to cough lightly instead. Yeah, remember that time you couldn't handle a classroom full of little pixies? You rolled your eyes and folded your arms against your chest.

"For full details, see my published works." Lockhart added rather arrogantly. Was this guy serious? Merlin, he loved himself far too much. The famous author then proceeded to whip his cape off, throwing it into a gaggle of fawning teen girls. The gasped with excitement, their hands flying up to grab a hold of the piece of clothing.

"Let me introduce… my assistant," Lockhart began, pointing at the opposing side of the table with an open hand, his other one resting valiantly on his opposite hip. You reached up onto your tiptoes in a poor attempt to see what teacher he'd roped into this. Professor Sinistra, perhaps? Or even- "Professor Snape!" He exclaimed.

Your jaw dropped. There was no way in hell you'd heard that right. Before you could second-guess yourself, said wizard began trailing up the stairs to the table with a gloomy look on his face, his arms folded uncomfortably tight against his chest. As he reached the top, he let them unfold, placing them at his side, wand in hand. You noticed he wasn't wearing his cape too.

As Severus walked down the table, you couldn't help your eyes as they glided over his figure, getting embarrassingly distracted by how good he looked in his tight, form-fitting black robes. You had to force yourself to look away as you felt yourself falling victim to his alluring appearance, a searing hot blush now creeping up your neck, heading towards your cheeks. Gods, he didn't even do anything but take his cape off and you were blushing like a teenage school girl.

"He has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry," Lockhart went on, glancing at the children who were leaning over the edge to eagerly glance at Snape. Surely, there was no way he willingly agreed to this, but then again, maybe he only agreed to it to have the legal ability to cast a spell on him. "You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him. Never fear." Lockhart professed rather over-confidently, deafening arrogance dripping from his words. You knew Snape was a very good duellist after hearing rumours during your time at school in Hogwarts, so you were confident that he'd dominate Lockhart. At least, that's what you were hoping.

The two wizards walked towards each other, stopping just shy of a foot away. They drew their wands, whipping them up to their own respective faces, before whipping them back down in one quick motions, a sharp swish emitting from the way it sliced through the air. Severus and Lockhart spun around, turning to walk five paces in the opposite direction. Once they were in position, they turned around once again to face each other.

"One, two, three!" Lockhart exclaimed, prompting Severus to draw his wand up at the speed of light. Before Lockhart has a chance to cast anything, the Potions Master was two steps ahead.

"Expelliarmus!" Severus commanded, a bright white light shooting from the tip of his wand, hitting Lockhart square in the chest and sending him flying backwards. Your hand flew to your mouth to muffle an amused laugh as you watched Lockhart fly through the air, a cry of pain escaping his lips as his back thudded against the table.

As you looked back to Severus, you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Though you had hardly spoken since, it was hard not to feel impressed. The rumours were true, then, you thought, your smile widening. The wizard in question suddenly caught your eye, and you felt your lungs spasm. You had to suck in a breath to compose yourself as your legs tingled.

You nodded at him, wiping the awestruck smile off your lips and pursing them awkwardly instead. To your surprise, Severus acknowledged you back with a nod too. He turned his attention back to Lockhart, who was currently scrambling to get back to his feet. Your cheeks burned at the unforeseen encounter and you felt yourself becoming a little giddy from it. Gods, you really were like a little school girl with a crush.

Fuck. You couldn't understand how you could go from screaming your lungs out at Severus to possibly having a civil relationship with him - how does that even work? Though, you swiftly reminded yourself how that could quickly change, you were well aware of who he was.

"An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying, it was pretty obvious, er, what you were about to do. And if I had wanted to stop you, it would have only been too easy." Lockhart scoffed, strutting back to stand in front of Severus, his gimmicky grin making another appearance on his irritating face. The Potions Master stood nonchalantly, clasping his hands together in front of him. You had to give it to him, he had that poker face down rather well - something you were a little envious of.

"Perhaps it would be prudent, to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells, professor." Severus said rather harshly, his tone of voice judgmental. He was totally valid for feeling that way, and for once you found yourself questioning Dumbledore's reasoning as to why he had hired such a useless and clumsy wizard. Surely, someone as wise as him could see through this man's pathetic and hopeless act? Maybe he was just desperate for someone to fill the position. Lockhart looked scared for once, his once confident grin fading as Severus stared him down, a sarcastic smile gracing his face for a split second.

"An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape." The famous author exclaimed enthusiastically, spinning on his heel to walk the opposite way of him. "Well… let's have a volunteer pair. Erm.. Potter, Weasley, how about you?" Lockhart gestured towards the boys. Ron's face was a picture, he looked awestruck, almost shocked to see that he'd been picked. Harry's face, however, was more fitting.

"Actually, I was thinking Professor L/N could stop lurking in the shadows and come and showcase her impressive range of skills." Severus declared, his rather loud yet deep and intimidating voice echoing throughout the Great Hall. You almost choked on your tongue, did he really just say that? As you looked up at him, Severus tried to hide the amused smirk that was undoubtedly slipping onto his smug face; his hand outstretched to gesture to you. You wiggled your jaw at him, clearly unhappy with what he'd just done. You weren't great at defence, but you knew how to protect yourself with the bare minimum.

"I highly doubt a professor of Herbology would be able to handle me in a duel, I'm afraid, Professor Snape." Lockhart laughed wholeheartedly, the tiniest hint of worry in his tone. Oh, really, is that how it is, Lockhart? Your jaw ticked at his outrageously offensive comment. Now, you really did want to Expelliarmus his ass to Azkaban. Snape continued smirking. He could hardly contain himself. This was perfect. He knew how easy it was to irritate you - he'd definitely had his fair share.

"Certainly, Severus." You called out calmly, watching the gaggle of students in front of you turn around to stare at you. As your eyes met with Lockhart, a flash of fear wiped across his face. That only spurred you on more. Your heels clacked against the floor cutting through the silence in the hall as you walked towards the end of the table that Severus had climbed up. As you reached the stairs, you held up your robes, careful not to trip.

Suddenly, a large and pale hand appeared in your face. Your brows furrowed together in slight confusion, before softening as they saw who it belonged to. You bit your tongue as you tried impeccably hard not to blush in front of half of the school. Graciously, you took Severus's hand lightly, watching how it swamped your smaller one, allowing him to help you up the steps. He was six-foot-one, possibly six-foot-two, after all. Once you were standing on top of the table he released your hand, to your dismay of course, but you didn't show it. There was a bigger thing at stake currently - handing Lockhart's ass to him.

You saw the author clench his jaw harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. You couldn't help but paint an innocent smile on your face. Behind you, Severus stepped backwards, allowing you to move past him and towards Lockhart. You nodded at him, keeping your narrowed eyes trained on the strawberry-blonde liability in front of you.

The two of you walked towards each other, stopping in the middle of the table once again. "Wands at the ready." Severus said, trying his best to hide how entertaining he was finding this. You and Lockhart drew your wands, flicking them up to your face again and whipping them down to your sides with a sharp whoosh. You met each other's glaring eyes.

"Hello, friend." You muttered to him quietly, an innocent yet threatening smile gracing your lips. Lockhart's face might have seemed confident and prepared, however his terrified eyes painted a different picture. He was rightfully worried, you still had a lot of unreleased resentment towards him.

"Professor L/N, you are the attacker and Lockhart, you are the defender, obviously." Severus stated.

You and Lockhart turned around and walked forwards five paces, before turning around again. "One, two, three!" Severus called, his eyes widening a tad, eager to see the outcome of his proposition.

"Everte Statum!" You exclaimed, beating Lockhart at his own game. A string of pale pink light shot from the tip of your wand, landing square in the middle of Lockhart's chest. Your eyes were glued onto him as he flew backwards once more, his body flipping through the air like a gymnast - though a lot less graceful. He landed with a muffled thud, a short cry slipping from his mouth. Behind you, Severus was slowly losing his composure, letting a small huff of air escape his lips as he watched you, amused at the scene. He was impressed with your ability, and in his mind he pondered curiously about whether you'd duelled before.

Gasps and laughs erupted from the students surrounding you, though a handful of them also looked worried for Lockhart's wellbeing.

"Not bad for a Herbology professor, methinks." You smiled proudly, clasping your hands together in front of you as you waited for your opponent to climb to his feet again. You half-turned to glance back at Severus, prompting an approving nod from him, the corner of his lips quirking, teasing a small smile. You hummed quietly to yourself as you looked away, returning your attention to Lockhart, your cheeks tinting pink from the eye contact with Snape.

"I believe you owe Professor L/N an apology, professor." Severus said from behind you, quite smugly. You poked your tongue into your cheek, glancing at the floor in front of you to pull yourself together. This whole ordeal was sending you into overdrive. You knew the only reason that Snape was supporting you was because you shared a mutual dislike for Lockhart, but it still felt good to have his approval, perhaps even his attention. You could feel your heart pick up in pace as you thought back to the closeness you and him had shared during those heated, intense bickers.

"I should not have underestimated you, Professor L/N." Lockhart reluctantly said, his hand gently rubbing his behind, clenching his jaw as he stared at you and Snape. You smiled bitterly at him, nodding once and making your way back towards the Potions Master. As you neared him, he leaned towards you, catching your eye. Your breath hitched slightly.

"Nicely done." Severus muttered to you, another tiny smug smirk tugging at his lips. You sucked in part of your bottom lip momentarily before allowing a composed smile to grace your features. "I'm impressed." He added, making your head spin. You swallowed thickly. Gods, you needed to get out of here now if you wanted to leave with at least a shred of your dignity.

"Thanks." You barely managed to keep your voice steady as he leaned away from you, holding his out his hand again for you to take. You took it, praying to Merlin above that your shaking knees didn't give way to you as you carefully stepped down the stairs.

Snape arched a brow at you, his eyes narrowing slightly in a glare, silently reprimanding you for saying such a thing. How could you forget? 'Do not thank me', his words rang in your head as you let go of his hand. As much as you wanted to stay, you weren't sure your heart could take much more of this.

Fuck, maybe that hateful relationship the two of you shared previously was the better option. There was no way you were surviving this year in such close proximity to Severus.

"Don't touch that please, Mr Finnigan." You sighed softly, catching a glimpse of Seamus attempting to reach towards the head of a potted Mandrake. "Not until I say so, and you will see why." You added warningly, watching him reel himself back, a look of slight fear on his face. You smiled gratefully at him. "So, as I was saying, today you will be learning how to handle Mandrakes, and what their uses are." A few curious mutterings came from the students as you stepped forwards, flicking your wand upwards to float some protective earmuffs to each student in the class. They looked at them confusedly, reaching out to grab a hold of a pair.

"Who here can tell me the properties of the Mandrake root?" You asked as you watched the students collect their respective earmuffs, eyes flicking over to a particularly eager Hermione Granger. "Yes, Miss Granger?" You smiled, linking your fingers together.

"Mandrake, or Mandrogora is used to return those who have been Petrified to their original state. It's also quite dangerous, as the Mandrake's cry is fatal to anyone who hears it." Hermione said confidently, widening your smile. She was definitely a bright student.

"Brilliant, ten points to Gryffindor." You nodded, glancing at all of the students. The Gryffindor students all grinned at the sound of your words, giving Hermione an excited nod of thanks. "Now, as our Mandrakes are still only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet, but they could knock you out for several hours, hence the earmuffs I have supplied you all with." You said sternly, hoping each and every one of the students were listening. You weren't particularly fond of paying the infirmary a visit today. "For your own safety, you will need to wear these. So please, can you all put them on right away?" You asked politely, feeling a sense of relief as every student obeyed you. "Make sure the flaps are tight down, too." You added sternly, noticing some students had just sloppily placed them on. Said students readjusted their equipment.

"Lovely, now watch me closely." You said, turning your attention to the potted Mandrakes in front of you. "Now, you grasp it firmly," you instructed, fingers grabbing on tightly to the top of the plant, "you pull it sharply out of the pot, like so." Instantly, the high-pitched wailing of the young Mandrake filled the greenhouse, making some of the students squirm out of fright. You couldn't help but smile at them; you remembered the first time you'd experienced the shrill wail of a Mandrake seedling in this very greenhouse. "Okay? Now, you dunk it down into the other pot and pour a little sprinkling of soil to keep him warm." You explained, doing as you said, shovelling handfuls of soil into the new pot with the crying Mandrake seedling inside of it.

Suddenly, the sound of a student groaning caught your attention. You looked up, spotting Neville Longbottom's eyes rolling into the back of his head as he fell backwards, fainting. You sighed. Well, nothing is perfect.

"Mr Longbottom has obviously been neglecting his ear muffs." You pursed your lips, casting a sympathetic gaze his way. It always seems to be Longbottom in trouble. Amused snickers and inquisitive 'oh's broke out for a quick moment before you shut them down with a sharp shush.

"He's just fainted, ma'am," Seamus Finnigan protested, glancing between the unconscious boy and yourself. You nodded at him, holding up a light hand to reassure him.

"He'll be okay, Mr Finnigan, just make sure you don't step on him." You said, inhaling softly, turning your attention back to the whole of the class. "Right, off you go, there's plenty of pots to go around," You gestured to the table in front of you, observing the students carefully. "Grasp the Mandrake, and pull it up sharply like I demonstrated." A chorus of crying and shrieking Mandrakes reached your ears as you observed the class repeat your demonstration and you grimaced slightly at the raucous plants. You forgot how loud these little things were in groups. "Careful, Mr Malfoy, don't-" You sighed again, watching helplessly as he stuck his finger into the mouth of one.

Merlin, give me strength, you pleaded, watching him glare at the Mandrake seedling as he ripped his bitten finger out of it's mouth.

"Professor," came a voice to your right, capturing your attention, "You were great at duelling earlier." A blonde girl with big, blue eyes said. Luna Lovegood.

"Ah, thank you, Miss Lovegood." You smiled at her gratefully. "I'm not usually one to duel, however," You paused for a moment, pondering on your words. These were students you were talking to, so you had to be cautious with what you said. "However, I should really be thanking Professor Snape." You finished with a coy smile.

"He totally likes you, professor, didn't you see the way he helped you up the steps?" Another student called out, inducing some giggles from the girls. You rolled your eyes at them, quite positive that they were just pulling your leg.

"Let's not be hasty, now," You laughed lightly, frowning at their words. "I can tell you now that Professor Snape and I just about tolerate each other. The only reason he helped me up those steps was out of pure chivalry, I can assure you." You felt your cheeks begin to burn as your mind reeled back to earlier this morning, thinking about the way your hand felt in his, and how he looked at you after you had duelled Lockhart.

You cleared your throat and your mind, focusing back on the task at hand. "If I'm honest, I don't believe Professor Snape is capable of producing such feelings for a woman." You added absentmindedly, your tone a little bitter. A chorus of gasps and ooh's reached your ears, reminding you that you were in the presence of students - students that like to talk. "I didn't say that… don't… don't tell him I said that…" You groaned, fingers flying up to grasp the bridge of your nose in stress.

Fuck. You really needed to stop talking without thinking. That was another thing Severus had said to you a couple weeks back at the beginning of the year, no? You were still the same silly girl that didn't think before she spoke? You hated how you were proving him right, especially since you'd denied and protested it.

There was a beat of silence as you stared at the Mandrake seedlings in front of you, your mind floating back to when he was so close to you, his intoxicating smell of smoke, books and sweet wine invading your nostrils. The way his hauntingly dark eyes stare so deep into yours, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly out of anger.

"You're blushing, professor!" An amused student called out, pointing at your burning cheeks as he pulled you out of your daydream. Merlin, these kids were distracting you. Definitely not helping.

"Alright, alright, that's enough chit-chat, ladies and gentlemen, back to work, please." You shook your head, trying to ignore the tightening knot in your stomach. A few bashful giggles erupted in front of you. "I want all of these Mandrakes repotted by the end of the lesson, please."

Soon enough, the bell tolled and your students had done very well, apart from Longbottom, of course. You'd sent an owl to the infirmary to notify Madam Pomfrey of Neville's state. You assured her that he would wake in a few hours. How was this boy continuously finding himself in such situations? Severus was right. Again.

A quiet groan left your lips as you collapsed into your chair behind your desk, eyes glued thoughtfully to a beautiful, singular white lily that you had potted and placed as a decoration on your desk. You were just about to relax into your chair and open up a book to read for an hour or so when you heard Professor McGonagall's worried voice over the intercom.

"All students are to return to their dormitories immediately. All teachers to the second floor corridor." She said hurriedly, causing a worrisome look to stir on your face. This was serious, Minerva had never requested something like this before in your time teaching and learning at Hogwarts.

What had happened now?

part 5

part 4, done and dusted bitches B)

i hope you enjoyed reading, and thank you so much to everyone that has supported this through likes, reblogs and comments!! i appreciate every single one of you. honestly. much love to you guys.

if you would like to be added to the taglist please don't hesitate in leaving a comment below! i'll be happy to :)

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

@vesperbatty

@biggest-simp-eversposts

for the last two users i've tagged, i couldn't remember whether you said you wanted to be tagged or not, so i apologise in advance for the notification

[angbangweek]

We are happy to announce the dates for this year's Angbang week:

May 6th - May 12th

Welcome one and all to the third annual Angbang appreciation event! Whether you're a previous participant, new to either tumblr or this pairing, or simply an event enjoyer who views and shares the new content, thank you for stopping by and taking a look! This year we have chosen to begin on a Monday with new dates rather than midweek, so the date of the event itself is a little later than in previous years, but everything else stays the same. (Prompts and additional explanation/info below the cut)

We would like to greet all new and returning participants and Angbang enjoyers alike to this year's week-long chaos couple event. Feel free to save the date or even spread this around if you're interested. As usual, any and all participation is welcome! We will be accepting any and all original creations for the upcoming event - visual, written or auditory, which is including but not limited to Fanfiction, Poetry, art both traditional and digital, playlists or other musical creations, moodboards, and anything else you may come up with. So long as they're new, or as of yet unpublished, created by you and feature Angbang, we want to see them and feature them! Unless it's an entire temple. Mairon has tried it several times before, and... well, we would prefer to remain undrowned if possible.

The list of prompts for this year (which can also be found in the image description):

Day 1 - May 6th: Scars | Injuries* Day 2 - May 7th: Haste | Malice Day 3 - May 8th: Spying | Shapeshifting Day 4 - May 9th: Mountains | Iron Day 5 - May 10th: Fire | Lava Day 6 - May 11th: Order | Chaos Day 7 - May 12th: Prompt of choice from the previous weeks*

*We are aware of the nature of the first prompt. Due to this, we do ask that in addition to all relevant tags, you add the correct tag of either "scars" or "injuries" to your work on day 1 should you choose to post it, especially the latter, so that people could filter it out. We will likewise add relevant tags to works featuring these prompts so that anyone may filter it out if they so wish. *As you've noticed, this year's final "free" prompt is a bit more restrictive, and would encourage using one of the prompts from previous years, found here and here. One of them is free space, but we do encourage using one of the non-day-7 ones if you can.

Like in the previous years, we encourage you to pick whichever prompt you like better of the two offered that day (you can also wait for another day if you don't like either prompt, or combine the two if you prefer, or even make content for both prompts if you're really looking for a challenge / prefer not sleeping during the month of May, whatever you like). Once you've picked a prompt and made content for it, use the current year's Angbang Week tag, which is either #AngbangWeek2024 or #Angbang Week 2024, or tag this blog directly when posting your prompt for us to reblog it. Try not to post it before the event starts (you can queue up specific posts for specific days to help with that), do not worry about being late, and most importantly, enjoy! No need to stress yourself out over silly ship stuff.

For any additional questions, requests, or additional clarification regarding anything event-related, feel free to send an ask or a DM at anytime!

[peakyscillian]

I wish you would write a Modern!Tommy being all cosy at home with his wife!!

Pizza & Champagne.

Part of this post that I reblogged - send in a prompt & i’ll add it to my list! This is just a very tiny gift to make up for the late posting of 'Family Ties' I'm aiming for a midweek update this week!

-

It's in moments like this when Y/N see’s the real Tommy, her Tommy. A day spent inside, no work, no phones just each other. 

Tommy in his most relaxed state, she wasn’t sure if anyone had ever seen him dressed in a sweatshirt and a pair of grey joggers, but she was so glad she was privileged enough to experience it. 

He was almost softer on days like these, as if the weekend spent away from his busy life had worn down the edges of him. 

She looks up as he enters the lounge, a bottle of champagne and the takeaway pizzas in hand, a smile on his face as she got up to help him “Pizza and Champagne like our first date” she hums, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“I know how to treat a lady” he jokes, placing the boxes on the coffee table, she passes him the champagne “Tom, we’d had a late night in the office even though we were meant to be going for a nice dinner” she giggles, as he skillfully popped the bottle open. 

“Like I said I know how to treat the ladies” he winked, handing her a glass, she took a sip letting the bubbles pop on her tongue “Well you got me so it must have worked” she smiled, curling her legs underneath herself on the sofa, settling back as Tommy dished up slices of pizza. 

-

@cillmequick @runnning-outof-time @look-at-the-soul @gypsy-girl-08 @heidimoreton @thomasshelbee @forgottenpeakywriter @shelbydelrey @allie131313 @cillixn @midnightmagpiemama @zablife @queenshelby @missymurphy1985 @janelongxox @cloudofdisney @being-worthy @vhscillian @radioheadgirl @elenavampire21 @datewithgianni @magicalpieex @camilleholland89 @cilliansangel @uchihacumdump @inkandpen22 @ysmmsy @lyarr24 @anotherhitandrun @alreadybroken-ts @flyingjosephine-blog @moral-turpitudes @duckybird101 @lostgirl219 @blyanyan @flippittygibbitts @stevie75 @winchestergirl22 @stars-of-scorpio @moral-terpitude @lespendy @lovemissyhoneybee @pocket-of-possibilities @otterly-fey @gotohellandbackforyou @tinyminxie

-

[basilone]

Almost midweek! (I'm clinging to the idea of Friday/the weekend already, can you tell? 😂)

How's everyone doing? Excited about our impending series finale? Looking forward to the documentary? I know our lovely fandom is going to sit here and bask in it for a good long while to come.

And, let me let you in on a not-so-big secret: MotA is my fave HBO War series. Hands down, no contest. What it has managed to do here is sprawl out and touch upon many slivers of very European war stories while simultaneously telling the very harrowing story of the Bloody 100th. It's genuinely got me by the throat in a way the other series didn't, and I cannot be objective about a show that's gotten to me on this level. If you're looking for critical takes on this show, my blog ain't it.

One more quick note before I go off and crash in bed for a few hours: thank you thank you thank you to everyone who's commented on my writing lately! I see and appreciate each comment/reblog, and am really happy to hear that what I'm creating is moving you. 💙 If you ever wish to know more about an OC and/or her friends, please feel free to ask. I'm still accepting random one word prompts this month, so if you want me to write a specific MotA flyboy... 😉

[mortuarymorticia]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

01.24.24

it’s time for a midweek check in! feel free to reblog this with ur own answers, or make ur own post, just be sure to tag me in it & at least two mutuals to keep the trend going!

📚 what have i gotten done?

✦ lecture notes for two classes.

✦ homework for microbiology.

✦ marketing project.

📑 what have i got left to do?

✦ business project.

✦ next week’s microbiology homework.

✦ flashcards.

🧫 what am i proud of this week?

i kicked ass with productivity this week despite having a cold & feeling like crap.

📖 what am i looking forward to?

coven circle on friday night!

i tag @studywithvictory , @shrivelfigstudies & @lottiestudying ! ❤️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[danmei-in-polls]

Another org poll

Recently y'all have probably noticed that I've run out of steam a bit for this blog. Is there life past the hyperfix and all that. Trying to keep up with everything I've been doing seems to actually make me drop the ball on the primary function (reblogging danmei polls), leaving things to marinate in my drafts for days...

So what I wanna do is officially trim the additional work I've been doing down to a manageable level. For this, I'm going to run a few polls to determine the priority of those tasks, and if they should stay as they are or be minimized in some way. Before that, though, a reminder of what the options are:

12h bumps - the polls getting another reblog 12 hours after I initially reblog them, presumably helping people in different timezones see them on their dashes.

Submissions Open masterpost - collecting links to tournaments with open submissions, presumably helping people submit more characters to more tournaments.

Midweek bumps - haven't done them in a while due to aforementioned 'leaving polls to marinate', but: reblogging week-long polls again at about '3 days some hours left' mark if they meet conditions*. Presumably updating people on the state of the poll, e.g. prompting them to reblog / write propaganda if their blorbo has started losing after they have seen the poll initially; also putting it on the dashes of people who missed the original reblog(s).

Propaganda - reblogging propaganda for polls that meet conditions*.

*conditions are 'danmei option is either losing, or winning only by a small margin'

Now, the first question is: which of these do you see as the most essential functionality for this blog? Note that this doesn't mean I will completely remove the losing options; this is just to help me prioritize. Also: please only pick the 'only base function' option if you GENUINELY dont find the other things useful; don't be like 'oh its helpful but the mod needs rest :(' I would rather get accurate results for what people actually find useful!

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

I cannot get over a listing that I found for some vintage copy of A Tale of Two Cities that includes a picture of this newspaper clipping taped to the inside of it, right under the table of contents

According to one article, Eberlein died in 1964, and a dubious search result tells me this may be from as early as 1940, like...oh my god??

[hitlikehammers]

✨WIP Wednesday Game✨

Tagged by the incomparable @hbyrde36 (a week ago?) and @pearynice (MUCH LONGER AGO BUT I KEPT TRACK)—thank you for tagging me I love playing the games and also for patience in my actually taking the turn and DOING IT, but maybe it’s better late than never (?)

Anyway: it’s WIP Wednesday, time for a some midweek accountability, sharing your work, and being bullied encouraged to work on your stuff/get your stuff done.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

1: REWRITE THIS SHIT TO SPITE GOOGLE, ch10 (aka Google deleted all of the unposted parts of the fic cue great despairing):

“He’s something else, Wayne,” Eddie shakes his head, but he doesn’t have to move at all to feel dizzy with it, “I mean…”

“Yeah,” Wayne huffs a little, but sounds almost…fond, actually, which: more than well deserved, if not wholly expected. “He is, isn’t he.”

2: Mistletoe's Poison(ish): cannot post snippet because EXCHANGE

3: bc people wanted HAPPY not hopeful

Robin’s face is raw, as in she thinks she’ll split open the skin if she wipes the tears that don’t stop one more time but she can’t even care, she’s already sliced open and spilling out from the heart of her because, because…

Steve’s not waking up. 

4: did it really need a part 2?: also an exchange if it ever gets done

5: there MUST ONLY BE ONE BED

“Fuck.”

Steve lets himself spare half-a-second from watching the road, and <I>only</I> half-a-second; the ice is getting bad, and it’s not even dark yet, which is enough reason for the low-breathy-sexy-wait-no-not-sexy-that’s-not-it—

It’s enough of a reason for Eddie to both say and draw out the commentary of fuck, is the point. 

Please grab this and run with it if you're so inclined, consider yourself tagged as inspired! And, just add some inspiration to get the process tarted: @cranberrymoons @imfinereallyy @t-boyeddie @viviseawrites @luthienstormblessed @reignofdreams @chaosgremlinmunson @writing-kiki @katdeerly @gutterflower77

[tllgrrl]

Somewhere Over The Rainbow Parts 1 & 2

from The Sarah Bucky Songbook, Jazz Standards, Vol 3

After Bucky has an accident and an episode, Sarah finds herself going to Wakanda to be with him.

We’re not in Kansa—I mean, Delacroix, LA, anymore…

(The link is to the story on AO3, Part 1. Click Next Chapter to continue to Chapter 2.)

[officialleobrown36]

Midweek Thoughts:

Some people: They/She/he should be cancelled.

Me: No, have a hard conversation w/them/educate yourself. IF they want to learn/know.

[soaps-hoe-141]

Back Together

To everyone that has liked and reblogged and followed up to this point I truly love you. I've never done this before and certainly never posted any fanfic before so all the love has made me so happy. I've been smiling like an absolute idiot the past five days now, thank you everyone.

Part 5

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

WC: 3.6k

Synopsis: Sad boi hours inbound but it's ok we can fix him

Warnings: Self harm, parents that don't know when to shut up, general blood and gore descriptions

It had been a week since the team had been given approval to leave the base, two days after the Captain had run them all near to death for the stunt they had pulled. At least Price had somehow gotten the whole issue with Konig squared away though none of them really knew how he had done it. The Captain had told them they could go do whatever it was that they wanted and they’d meet back on base in a week. It was a leave that they were given freely and that they were more than happy to take, it wasn’t often that you got a week off to go home and relax. But by the time midweek arrived the 141 group chat was lighting up with everyone except for the man who typically ran their conversations. They were all chomping at the bit except for Soap, the Scotsman was abnormally absent. As per tradition when coming off leave, sunday night the guys had met at the bar that was equidistant from all of their apartments but Soap never showed up and they didn’t stick around long after that. The smiling, good-natured Scotsman was the glue of their little family, he steered most of their conversations, he always made sure to engage them all in something they enjoyed talking about, and he was always prepared to give them a quick laugh. Without him the conversations were empty, boring, and the laughs were absent.

As Monday morning rolled around and they were set to meet at 0700 they were all a little worried that Soap wasn’t there by 06:30. Typically he was ready to go thirty minutes before they were supposed to be, the only person who ever showed up before him was the Captain but even that was only a few minutes before. Gaz was the only one who ever showed up chronically late and even he was there by 06:50. At 06:58 they spotted a disheveled Sergeant MacTavish sprinting around the corner of a building. His mohawk was in dire need of a fresh cut, his beard was in no better shape, he was pulling down the hem of his shirt like he was only just now putting it on, and he was holding one shoe in his hand the other which was at least on his foot but had yet to even be tied. He sprinted over to the group, already huffing in air even though workouts hadn’t even started yet. They all watched as Soap stopped a few yards away to pull his shoe on and then lace the both of them. When he was done he joined them, and they all expected something from him, anything really would have done but he stayed awkwardly quiet as they all looked at him. The Captain gave him a narrow eyed look before asking slowly, “You ok, Soap?”

The Sergeant gave a quick nod, “I’m fine, sir.” The reply was short and terse, their good-natured Scotsman sounded more like Ghost right now than any of them were comfortable with, especially Ghost. But every single man there was afraid to press those buttons, to ask him what was really wrong. He didn’t even come equipped with his usually beaming smile, he was devoid of a smile altogether. 

Instead of pressing it further though the Captain simply nodded, continuing to watch him for a few more seconds as Soap stared past him seemingly lost in thought now. “Come on boys, we’re only doing five kilometers today and then some sparring later.” Quick yes sirs from all of them and the four men took off, matching Price’s pace as they ran in sync.

Gaz was beside Price in the front with Soap and Ghost paired up a pace behind. They were halfway into the run, Ghost occasionally flicking his eyes to Soap who typically would have been cracking jokes and keeping subdued smiles on their faces through the whole run by now but this time he stayed eerily quiet. The Lieutenant said quietly, “Missed you at the bar last night.”

Blue eyes slid slowly to find Ghost to his right before Soap answered, “Sorry Lieutenant. I was busy.” Again the terse response drew out a narrow eyed look and the sound of his full rank coming out of Soap’s mouth quite nearly made Ghost flinch, Gaz was glancing back at him now as he listened and Price looking to Gaz for some kind of answer. Typically Soap would have found the staring uncomfortable, he had no problem with being the center of attention but having three men staring you down like you had shit on your face was cause to squirm. Usually anyway. Instead Soap’s mind was lightyears away, the man was running on autopilot and his communications systems had shut down leaving room for only two to three words per sentence if he could even manage that.

The fear to press those buttons and dig deeper to pull him out of his mind was still glaringly present though. Pushing yourself into a soldier’s mind was a dangerous thing, if you cracked those carefully constructed walls that allowed them to forget they might never recover. But Soap had been fine coming out of the mission, he had not seemed the least bit upset once they had gotten out of the desert. He had been tired of course but it wasn’t unusual for him to sleep so long after missions, it was part of his process and they had all seen it at work many times following their more physically taxing missions, everyone had their ways of dealing with things. But this facade, this mask that Soap had donned was nothing any of them had witnessed before. There had never been a time the Scotsman was unwilling to talk and smile and crack jokes, he had been hesitant on occasion but never just completely absent from their conversations.

The run seemed to take hours without the talking, weighing on all of them now as they all laced their fingers behind their heads. Except for Soap who crossed his arms over his chest and waited quietly for whatever the next order would be. The man wasn’t even breathing all that hard, he seemed mostly indifferent to it all now. Price beckoned them all to follow and so they did, heading inside the mostly empty gym and to a sparring mat on the floor. Price looked at Soap and beckoned him forward with a finger, watching the Scotsman step onto the mat. The Captain gestured for Gaz next and the other Sergeant did so as well. Finally Price said, “Alright go for it.” 

The speed at which Soap attacked first was blinding, he was a shorter and stockier man than the others but most of his strengths still lied, well in his strength. He was well built with corded muscle across his body. None of them had seen that kind of speed from him before today, and especially not the aggressiveness in every strike he threw. Soap’s punches were barely blocked by Gaz, and when Gaz was so preoccupied with keeping a punch off he didn’t expect the strong arms to lock around his body, his grip seemed to be made of iron then as Soap threw Gaz over his head. The other Sergeant was thoroughly winded but it wasn’t over yet. Soap was quick to stand watching as Gaz tried to as well before his arms locked around Gaz’s neck in a chokehold. The man was like a snake when he got Gaz to a knee. His legs wrapped around Gaz’s ribs  forcing the winded Sergeant to fall backwards. Soap’s back hit the ground but his grip stayed iron clad around Gaz’s neck. Every time the man let out a breath the hold tightened even more, Soap’s thighs like a crushing weight around the other man’s ribs. He couldn’t break the hold and finally Price called it, the Scotsman immediately let go as Gaz tried to catch his breath while laying back on Soap’s stomach, arms weak for a few seconds while his brain recouped the oxygen he had lost.

The Captain helped Gaz up then, glancing over as Ghost offered Soap a hand up. At least he took it, there was no malice in his actions or at least none that anyone else could see. It was simply a means to an end, the quickest and easiest way for him to end the sparring match. Soap wasn’t even looking at any of them anymore, his eyes had drifted to the far wall, his mind back in a loitering pattern until he was given another order. They didn’t spar much longer after that though before Price let them go to do whatever they wanted. Soap slowly made his way to the punching bags as he left the group behind, Ghost quietly following him as stealthy as he always was.

Soap didn’t bother with wrapping his hands up, that would take time and energy that wasn’t needed. Besides he could hear that voice in the back of his mind now since Price wasn’t there to fill the silence, it told him that he deserved it, that he deserved the pain and if he hurt his hands it was a just payment to stop the exhaustion and pain of his mind at least for a short time. The punches started out slow, controlled, and part of a pattern but it soon degraded. That was when the hits sped up, his fists connecting with more and more power and less downtime. The pain built with each strike and shut his thoughts up, closing his mind down for longer and longer as the pain increased. His fist connected and searing pain rushed through him. It lit his brain up with something other than the degrading thoughts he had been plagued with since he went to see his family on leave. The pain itself was a relief, a way to keep himself from losing his mind when the degradation became too much.

Soap’s mind was only on the punching bag and the relief it brought until he pulled back his arm about to strike even harder when a hand caught the inside of his elbow ripping away his momentum. The Sergeant seemed to be pulled out of the smoke then, looking around with an expression other than neutral for the first time that day. Confusion was written on his face as he followed the arm attached to the gloved hand all the way up to Ghost’s masked face. The Lieutenant stared at him for a few moments before asking, “What the hell is wrong with you, Johnny?” It wasn’t accusing as he had expected, it was worry stamped into his tone wanting to know what could possibly have happened to make Soap do this to himself.

Blood decorated his knuckles, his fingers already bruising and the pain lingered now for much too long despite the relief it was still bringing his tortured mind. “N-Nothing Lieutenant, I’m fine.” Ghost’s eyes widened and he could see his eyebrows raise even through the mask. Before he said anything more though Ghost glanced about the gym, taking note of the people before he jerked his head in a beckoning gesture and brought Soap along with him.

They exited the gym into the mostly empty parking lot, the only ears though were those of the sleeping cars. They moved through the parking lot until they made it to Ghost’s truck, black just like everything else he owned. He turned on the Sergeant then, eyes much more harsh now, “You are not fine, Soap. What’s wrong?”

Soap looked past the balaclava then and to the grassy bank behind him until he shifted his head to find Soap’s gaze once more, a look of expectancy written there. “I don’t know what you want me to say Lieutenant, but I’m fine.”

“Someone who is fine does not do this to themselves, Johnny,” Ghost reached down grabbing Soap’s wrist and pulling it up to show the Sergeant the damage he had caused.

“I didn’t- I don’t know- I didn’t have any-” his mind was faltering now. Seeming to short circuit as he tried to produce a sentence to explain away the bloody knuckles and the fiery pain there. He couldn’t though, he had been running on autopilot for too long now and his mind had seemingly forgotten how to speak. The exhaustion that had been hidden behind a careful mask was suddenly too visible in his eyes and the lines of his face. A wince of pain found his features as the pain in his hands finally registered as what it really was instead of the relief he had been imagining.

Ghost was watching him with a hard look that seemed to soften with every failed attempt to start a sentence. He shook his head, staring hard at the shorter man before he said, “Stop.” It was a simple order that the Scotsman followed easily enough. The tall man was still holding Soap’s wrist when he instructed, “Deep breath in Johnny,” Soap followed the order again holding his breath until Ghost said, “And then let it out.” He waited, letting Soap copy him a few more times before asking again, “Now, what is wrong Johnny?”

“Lieutenant-”

Ghost cut him off before he even got another word out, “And stop calling me that or are we being more formal because I can always call you Sergeant MacTavish if you want.”

“No, I’m sorry Ghost it’s just been. Well it has been a long week.” Soap sighed, reaching up with his free hand to rub at his forehead a bit, flinching away from the contact immediately when the pain flared in his hands.

“I’m listening,” Ghost leaned against the side of the truck watching Soap as he sorted through his mind trying to figure out where to begin.

Surprisingly it didn’t even start on the mission like Ghost had been afraid it would. “I went to see my family on leave, stayed with my parents and stuff. I shouldn’t have done it, I love them Ghost I do I swear it, but sometimes they just know right where to stick me. Kept asking me about work and then couldn’t understand why I couldn’t tell them. Mom was asking me why I wasn’t married yet, didn’t have any grandkids to bring home to her, not even so much as a girl I was dating, even more so than usual. Said I should be settling down like-like-like my brother or somethin. And my dad, well he’s my bloody father so everything was ‘Did you move out of that shitty apartment yet, John?’ ‘Got a house yet, John?’ ‘At least tell me you aren’t going to be driving that piece of shite car you’ve had since you were sixteen for much longer.’ ‘Oh John, you should look into the private sector, the pay is ten times what you’re making now.’ He just wouldn’t shut up about the whole bloody thing, Ghost. And then mom brought over fuckin Penny from down the road like I haven’t known her my whole feckin’ life. Chan eil fios agam dè bha i an dùil, ach thuirt mi ri Penny nach robh ùidh agam agus thug mama dìreach air ais mi gu leanabh beag.” He had switched to Gaelic without even realizing it, his anger pouring out like a faucet now that Ghost had unclogged the pipes. His rant continued for nearly five minutes with the Scotsman not even realizing he was telling Ghost every little detail of the week long leave and every thing that went wrong, and he said every bit of it in Gaelic so that Ghost had no idea what the hell he was really even saying. The tall man just kept leaning against the truck though, nodding along like he understood everything, his arms crossed over his chest while Soap paced back and forth two paces one way and two paces the other nearly shouting a couple times.

By the time he finished he was nearly out of breath and Ghost waited a moment to see if he had anything more to say. When it was obvious he wasn't going to say anymore Ghost asked, “So that’s why you didn’t come to the bar last night? And why you’ve been ignoring the group text?” Soap’s eyes shot up from where he had been looking at the lines on the ground then before darting away with a slow shake of his head. “Well why didn’t you show up then? You started the tradition, it's only right that you’re there.”

Soap hesitated then before he looked down with a little shrug and muttered, “I didn’t think you wanted me to be there.”

Ghost gave him another hard eyed stare that had Soap looking back to the grassy bank behind Ghost again. Until Ghost reached a hand up to the unshaven jaw moving Soap’s eyes back to his own. “Why would you ever think we don’t want you there? We only ever show up because of you Soap. Without you there isn’t really much reason for us to be there.”

Soap looked at his reflection in the shining paint of the black truck before he answered, “I don’t know. I guess my parents just got in my head. I tried to tell them more than once that I was happy, I have you guys and you are my family, but they just kept telling me I was putting too much into it. And you know maybe they’re right, I mean I’m loud, annoying, I say stupid shite all the time, there isn’t really much I bring to the team except for the occasional good shot. I mean I-” The air smacked out of his lungs as Ghost pulled him forward with a jerk, his arms squeezing tight around his ribs and very nearly strangling him with the force of the hug. It was surprising and warm and just what he needed when all he could think about was every stupid thing he had ever done or said or every time he had ever screwed up. The Sergeant returned the hug then, feeling himself melt against the Lieutenant. Before he even knew he was doing it his eyes dripped with tears, and Ghost was content to hold him there when Soap’s face pressed into his shoulder to hide what he could no longer control. It nearly made the big man cry too, feeling Soap’s body jerk with sharp inhales as he tried his best to hide the quiet sobbing. It was a sadness Soap had never dealt with before. Typically he had just let it run its course, accepting he would feel like shit for however long it took until his mind righted itself. But to acknowledge those thoughts and those feelings, well it was more than he knew how to process especially when Ghost was sitting here in the middle of a nearly empty parking lot holding him tight like he would break apart if he ever let go.

The time was lost on him while Ghost felt every second, letting Soap feel the emotions he had never allowed himself to. Slowly he pulled away, Ghost’s hold on him loosening until Soap backed up leaning back to find the truck with a hand and turning his face away immediately so Ghost couldn’t see the tears. They had soaked his shoulder until he could feel it through his shirt but somehow it felt more demeaning, made him feel like a weak child, if he let the other man see that. He gave a soft chuckle and shook his head, “Sorry about that Lt. I didn’t mean to spring that on you. Like I said, it was a long week.”

Ghost watched him for a moment and Soap’s face burned as the gaze bore into him. “Don’t be sorry, it’s fine.” He watched Soap nod but still the shorter man refused to look back at him, instead staring at the door of the gym as if waiting for someone to exit.

The blue eyed man wiped his face quickly giving Ghost a quick smile, it still didn’t reach his eyes but it was a smile at least, an attempt. “I should go, Ghost. I need to get out of here, you know?”

The tall man nodded, hands shoving into his pockets before he gestured to his truck with his chin, “Get in, I’ll give you a ride.” He pulled his keys out, both listening as the doors unlocked.

Soap turned a confused glance towards him, “No you don’t have to do that. My car’s here, and you’ve got things to do today. I’ve got it Ghost.”

The Lieutenant who had already opened his door and was about to get in turned his head quickly back towards Soap as if the man had just insulted him. “You shouldn’t be alone right now. I’ll pick you up tomorrow on the way over here, we have to be here at the same time anyway. Get in.” He pointed to the passenger side then, waiting until Soap moved before the big man climbed inside as well.

Soap turned to look at the old car he had, had since he was a teenager and sighed before he nodded and moved around the truck to get in. “Do you mind if we stop at the market? I don’t have anything for this at home.” The Scotsman held up his bruised and bloody hands. Ghost’s eyes stared at them a bit too long before he reached behind him and pulled out a medkit like the ones they brought with them on missions. He let it drop into Soap’s lap and they were rolling out of the parking lot as the Sergeant stared down at the kit with a smile on his face. You could always count on Ghost to be prepared right?