#packing a musket

[kategivesup]

Packing a Musket, By Jerri Blank

[puffywuffy8904]

HAPPY 90TH BIRTHDAY TO THE GUY OF ALL TIME!!! THE MOST SPECIALEST DUCK EVER!!!!!!!

[scattered-winter]

new show new slides you know how it be

[qhoaaaa]

Hebrheeehebebe grah

Edit: yes I made this , all rise for our great flag

[albaharu]

I made the TWE t-shirt I wanted hehehehe x

Also turned my Andy art into a sticker (but I’m gonna be honest with you here guys I am also getting this as a t-shirt because. I love him.) x

[katlimeart]

Made in 2016

If you’ve seen this anywhere else, I posted it back on my deviantArt when it was made.

Daisy cosplaying as different versions of Daisy Duck

1. Donna Duck

2. Normal Appearance

3. Duchess - Kingdom Hearts

4 + 5. The Three Musketeers

6. Quack Pack

7. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse

8. Mickey Mouse Club

9. House of Mouse

10. Fantasia 2000

[earthgeco]

Last week, I went to Ren fair and acquired a rapier, which I love. When I showed it to my aunt, she very excitedly informed me that this meant I had to dress up as a musketeer for Halloween. Now I don't know about Halloween (this is the fourth Halloween costume she has informed me I MUST do, so at the very least, I can't do all of them) but I love a good costume and I will admit it would be very cool. So I started to do some research, and I'm going to cry because I cannot for the life of me find any good solid reference for musketeer uniforms it's all party city crap inspired by the three musketeers, which is fine, and probably what she intended, but I am nothing if not pretentious. Especially in my costume making, I like using materials that the character would have used, and each piece of the costume should be functional or made to emulate functional even on costumes with lots of danglies and accessories. So we can get most of the costume based on the needs of the musketeer and 17th century fashion trends except the hat. Now, as far as I can tell, the hat had a function. It would protect the musketeer's eyes from smoke and sparks discharged as part of firing a musket, pistol, or other flintlock firearm. Which is why it was wide brimed and also why the brim was often pinned up on the right side, allowing a right-handed musketeer to shoulder a musket without obstruction, but this is where my conundrum lies. Were felt hats in the 17th century particularly flammable? Because if they were then those hats would likely be made of leather but if they weren't then they would be likely felt as that seems, as far as I can tell, an easier, cheaper, and more common haberdashery material. How am I supposed to make a musketeer costume if I can't even figure out what their hats are made of?!

[aragarna]

Since we're on the topic of the musketeers, please may I ask for your thoughts on the rest of the lads? Thank you kindly! =)

Let's just do that. ;-) We have d'Artagnan and Porthos left.

I have a particular foundness for Porthos because he's the less complicated one. He's loyal to a fault. They say "let's go", and he goes, no question asked. Because he's strong and bigger than life and not as complicated as the others, he's often reduced to a caricature of vaguely dumb and basically just muscle, and it really annoys me (I'm looking at you, Gérard Depardieu). Yes, he's a little vain and he likes titles, but he isn't dumb. Porthos has a good heart, and he's a good friend.

We should all be so lucky to have a Porthos in our lives.

Also, [spoilers for the last book] His death broke my heart. All of them, really, because there's something rather sad seeing our heroes reach the end of their lives, no matter how full and long but… Damn, I still have that vivid image of the vanquished giant in my head…

The last book is rather sad, to be honest, though it is a fact a life that people move on with their lives. It doesn't mean we aren't friends, we just see each other less, if at all. But that makes for a more melancholic read.

Anyway...

That leaves us with d'Artagnan, my old love. I guess because he's the young and innocent one at the start of the novel, he's the one I identified with and fell in love with (as mentioned earlier, I was about 12 or 13 the first time I read it). The book as a whole made a big impression on me, from that iconic first meeting between d'Artagnan and the three musketeers to that siege of La Rochelle. D'Artagnan is young, but he's also smart and quick thinking, ever ressourceful. He's funny and witty, but also uncompromising and earnest. He's full of life! He swears like the gascon he is! He's a great swordsman and the most loyal of friends.

He's quick to make enemies, but he's even quicker to make friends. And even though he's stepping into an already existing trio, he immediatly becomes, not just a part of it, but the natural leader. And all his life, even after they parted ways, he'll always fight to keep their friendship (ie, travel on horseback to go visit them one by one)

And that friendship means everything to them, and everything to me. This is the kind of loyalty that makes me weak in the knees. They'll die for each other, and I'll die for them.

Who do I ship him to? Constance I suppose, though my ace self likes the idea that this story is all about the friendship. Love stories remain secondary. There's no "your life can't be fulfilled without love" idea like in so many other story. On the contrary, it's all about friendship, chosen family. That's probably why that story is so important to me. The most famous friendship story of literature. So let's not ruin it with ships. So I guess my not romantic ship is obviously the title quatuor.

As for what I wish would have happened, I think when I first read it I wished the book would have ended before his death. t's one thing to leave your hero at the end of a story, and another all together to read how they died (it's true for real people too. I've always felt weird reading such celebrity died at such age from such cause. Please let me imagine them immortal).

As for adaptations, I wish there were stories that managed to be more true to the original material. The meeting is usually covered faithfully enough, but the Buckingham affair is usually approximative, which is a shame cause there's so much good stuff! Also I really want an adaptation of Twenty Years Later and that heartbreaking/heartwarming reunion in the dark.

thank you for playing! Time to wrap this up for today! Damn, now I want to re-read the book...

[werecreature-addicted]

Concept: Transmasc werewolf hunter who's been tracking the alpha for weeks, but unfortunately when he finds him it's the middle of mating season and the alpha is deep in rut. The hunter could fight back, but... he doesn't really want to, he's always been curious what it feels like to be bred by such a beast.

the deep guttural growl from the other side of the treeline sends a shiver down your spine. you'd been tracking this werewolf for weeks now, he'd been acting erratic the last few days. but that made him easier to hunt. you creep forward, slotting the silver bullets into your musket and carefully parting the leaves, silent as a shadow you peer into the clearing to take aim.

the werewolf is large, clearly a pack leader, he tilts his face up to the wind huffing the air, his breath coming out in puffs of white steam. his hips twitch and the motion catches your eye and your gaze falls, his cock is out, hard and bobbing, a bead of thick precum drooling from the tip. you can't help but gasp as it all clicks into place, all the odd behavior, the way he let himself out in the open, the werewolf was in heat.

the beast whirls around to look at you, the small noise catching his notice. Time seems to slow as you consider your choices, you could run, that was a bad idea you couldn't outrun this monster, you could shoot, you'd already lined up your shot, or... you could let it come closer. if it was in heat it probably wouldn't kill you, it just needed a soft hole to bury its knot into. you'd heard stories of people specifically going into the woods during werewolf mating season to get fucked by the monsters, you'd considered doing the same yourself a few times, now would be a good time to try it out.

You drop your gun and stumble backward, the werewolf pounces, closing the distance between you in two strides. then it's on top of you, pressing you down into the grassy earth. his sharp-clawed hands landing on your shoulders his head dipping to smell you, you wondered if he could smell how turned on you were. his heavy cock brushing against your thigh making you throb with desire. he was much bigger up close his prick was too, you wondered if he would even fit inside your pussy or if he'd care if he didn't.

"you tried to shoot me," he growls, you'd never heard a werewolf speak before. somehow you manage to find your voice and respond.

"but I didn't," you say.

"still," he says, running his tongue over your neck, "I think I'll punish you for that."

you definitely made the right choice in deciding not to kill this particular monster.

[cripplecharacters]

HI! i was wondering if any of you guys had any tips on writing a character with POTS?

Hi lovely asker!

Hm, I think just showing them and their condition is the basis of it all.

Don't be afraid to write them taking meds! A lot of people with POTS take meds, salt tablets, maybe potassium tablets. Often times a lot of us get the stuff that athletes or runners buy either those little electrolyte tabs, the gel packs, or the powder that you add to your water (I listed the brands I use that worked for me but I know a lot of people stand by Liquid IV, dripdrop, Nuun, or just Gatorade. But that's not important I'm off topic!)

If they're trying to keep their symptoms at bay they're gonna be drinking a water and electrolyte combo and maybe munching down on a salty snack

If everyone is standing, they're gonna be sitting whenever possible even if it's the floor, we're known to sit on the floor in the middle of anywhere

Heat is not our friend, a lot of people with POTS have trouble regulating our body temperature so umbrellas, hand fans, ice packs, ice in general is very nice

Also on that, some people also get hot flashes so that could be something also to include

Exercise can exacerbate POTS symptoms so if your character has to run for something it's gonna wear on them

Give them mobility aids! A lot of us use mobility aids usually like Forearm crutches or a wheelchair are the ones I see most but a lot of people use canes or walkers too

A lot of chronically I'll people carry a bag filled with all our emergency stuff we need and I feel like that's always left out in media depictions so I'm gonna include that here

Depending on how you want to depict it some people deal more with vertigo, dizziness, nausea, fatigue than with syncope (passing out). Some people it's equal, some people have really bad syncope to the point that they can't stand up without a fall risk. It depends on how you want to write your character but not everyone is the same

If your story is set during a historical period, they're not gonna refer to it as POTS, and actually the novel "One For All" by Lillie Lainoff does a good of example of this as the title character in this Gender-Bent retelling of The Musketeers has POTS (yay!) but in the story it's called "The Dizziness"

That is all I can think of for the moment but if you have any other specific questions let us know! This is just a vague kinda thing but more direct questions are usually easier to answer, but if this does help I'm glad! Happy writing!

~ Mod Virus 🌸

[undead-supernova]

Masterlist

plot: your friendship with Eddie is still so new. and it's good. so good. but how do you learn to let go of the past and enjoy the present when your life is such a stark contrast from the life you once had?

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

important note: GUESS WHO IS BACK!!!!! thought you'd seen the last of me but here I am!!!! this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series! (this is roughly three months after they first met!) divider by @strangergraphics also, Eddie's outfit is inspired by this fanart by @aicosu!

warnings: reader having insecurities, friend betrayal, smoking cigarettes, alcohol, a helping of lovely fluff and giggles, LOTS OF DIALOGUE!!!

this is so so so heavily inspired by all my ghosts by Lizzy McAlpine!!!!! welcome to their lore!

wc: 4.3k

It’s odd, the way change, good change can alter your mind. There’s something so moving about it, this newfound knowledge that something you thought would last forever was purely momentary.

Take this change for example, the kind that you never expected would arise three months ago. A new friend, a now close friend that was shifting the way you saw yourself and saw the world. A friend you didn’t really think could possibly exist, stuck only in half-realistic novels and 40,000-word fanfictions.

But here was this guy, this thunderstorm of a man who had changed your life in such a short amount of time. Eddie Munson said that you were his new best friend. And he seems, at least for now, to have meant it.

There was nothing like late September, when the humidity let up and light jackets were pulled in tight. A cool breeze started to set in, leaving Southerners at ease for the first time since March. Late September, where life felt even more like a gift.

So, when Eddie asked if you wanted to go on a night drive, you couldn’t say yes fast enough.

He picked you up, even going so far as to lean over and open the door for you. You hoisted yourself up, drawn in by his casual apparel. Tonight, he was dressed in a charcoal sweater, different holes being held together by safety pins. He was snug in his black leggings and boots, wrists still littered with bracelets. Knuckles still shadowed by rings. 

The only thing that felt unusual was the distinct scent of cologne that wafted toward you the second your seatbelt clicked. The sandalwood, that musk tinging with spice. An overflow of fragrance that was making your head a tad fuzzy.

“Wow, you smell good,” were the first words out of your mouth.

“You think so?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

Avoiding the question, you asked, “Where are we headed tonight?”

The last breath of marigold sunset melted in his eyes. “Well, first, we need snacks. Lots of them.”

There was nothing better than a stroll through a QuickTrip, the many aisles usually guiding you to the drink selection that felt like a playground. What would it be tonight? Dr. Pepper? Apple juice? RedBull? Chocolate milk? Strawberry?

But there was something that seemed to switch on for you, standing in that cold air. This trepidation that figures would creep up behind you, shadows that could shatter your life with a quick snap. You went back to your ponderings, as if it was out of your hands. The reflections that came quickly under the fluorescent lights, the recognition that change brought about many emotions, many memories that you’d rather leave buried.

You could feel their presence as you grabbed strawberry milk and made your way to the candy aisle. It was there you caught Eddie crouched down, trying to decide between Reese’s peanut butter cups and 3 Musketeers. The ghosts felt ready to pounce at any chance they got, swirling in your head with a vibrancy you hadn’t anticipated. Months of being tossed around like a rag doll, made to believe that your best friend was a monster. Were complicit in their games. 

“You need to try Red Vines.”

Eddie sprung back up, leaving you to blink for a moment as your eyes adjusted to the pack he thrusted in front of your face.

“Oh, you mean red sticks of chalk?” you wondered, lifting an eyebrow. “Yeah, no thanks.”

He pretended to get upset, jolting back as if you’d stung him. “Jeez, don’t be such a hater.”

“I’m the biggest hater for Red Vines.”

He pouted. “That’s fucked up.”

Shrugging, you threw up your hands. “More for you!” 

“Yeah, but we could’ve enjoyed it together,” he groaned.

“Poor thing,” you said sarcastically, imitating his pout.

His eyes narrowed. “You are brutal, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

“Sweetheart?”

He searched your face, his widening eyes mirroring yours. As if he’d been caught. As if he were in trouble. “What, can I not call you sweetheart?”

He said it again.

Heat was starting to build in your neck, your face. “Um, uh…”

Eddie’s eyes screwed shut. “Shit, sorry—”

“No!” you exclaimed. “It’s not that. It’s just—”

“Lame.”

“Gentle.”

His eyelids opened, now surprised. A hush fell over you as you made eye contact, the only sound being his fiddling with the Red Vines packaging and the muffled hum of “Hold Me Now” by Thompson Twins coming through the speakers.

“Uh,” he started, a flash of red appearing on his cheeks. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s a good thing,” you assured him. “It’s just…unexpected.”

For the last few months, you truly believed you didn’t know what to think of Eddie. But in that moment, you realized that maybe the chains and the hair and his choice of music and movies had played a part in your blind observations. And it’s not that you thought that Eddie couldn’t be gentle. You just supposed he might be a little harder than he was.

But the way he said the pet name—nickname, the way it fit so softly in his mouth, his voice. You couldn’t help but feel a calmness washing over you at the sentiment. 

“It’s kind,” you answered.

His mood seemed to lift. “So, can I, like, keep calling you sweetheart?”

“Yes—” you said a little too quickly, clearing your throat to pause. “I, uh. Yeah. Yes.”

“Alright,” he replied, a smile lurking on his lips. “Sweetheart.”

You surely could’ve died right there.

During the day, Atlanta was a clusterfuck of traffic, chaos in the lack of turning signals and kindness to let people over. Nothing but honks and just-missed accidents. But at night, even in an overflow of traffic, the city seemed to turn electric. There was something in the air that made it magnetic, the sparkle of office buildings and street lamps guiding you towards your destination with ease. That orange glow that highlighted the path forward, the kind that made you wonder if you’d entered an alternate dimension.

And there beside you was your best friend. You couldn’t love anything more than riding shotgun next to Eddie, watching him belt out the lyrics to a Killers song in between shimmers of light dancing off his profile. “When You Were Young” set the scene for your journey, turning cinematic in nature.

This was so different from the life you knew mere months ago. The long nights of loneliness, staving off any thoughts of the friends that seemed to fade away as soon as you’d made new ones. And maybe it’d been stupid—pathetic—how much you cried. How much you hated yourself and hated the way you’d been used. 

But it was nothing compared to the self-loathing. That knowledge that you had everything to do with the downfall of not just your reputation, but the people who you’d held close. Especially one.

“Hey, you doing okay?” Eddie asked, turning down the volume. The crackle blaring from the speakers was what really caught your attention.

It was stupid, really. The they-said, she-said. The college drama that looked a little too much like high school. Maybe it was in the way outcasts find each other and realize they have too much growing up to do—and that involves recreating the high school experiences they never had. You just so happened to get lost in that crossfire and became the ostracized fool used in their petty schemes. 

You nodded, unable to keep the fake smile on your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just taking everything in.”

“Care to elaborate on ‘everything’?”

You wondered what you’d tell her if given the second chance. How you’d describe Eddie’s friendship and the way you thought that they’d get along. If she were here, still attached at the goddamn hip, what would she say? How would she act? 

Who is she now?

“Have you ever royally fucked up your life and had to find a way to start over?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie drawled, letting out a low whistle. “Big time.” With a gentle sigh and a glance over at you, he asked, “Have I ever mentioned Ronnie?”

“Ronnie?”

“Guess not,” he said with a shrug. “Well, Ronnie and I were best friends in high school. I mean, super close. Like, we lived in the same trailer park and rode to school together every day until, like, two months before she graduated. Ever heard of a prom?”

You snorted. “Yeah, Eddie. I’ve heard of a prom.”

“Just had to check. Didn’t know if Southerners were too busy doing, like, cotillion or debutante balls or whatever.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed out the memory of hairspray and curlers as you responded, “Well, we do but high schools have proms.”

“Excellent. Well, I kinda asked her to prom and she, you know, said yes.”

“You were dating?”

“Nah. No. It was nothing like that. I just…” He sighed. “I wanted to do something nice for her. Senior year and all. Since I was being held back another year, I wanted to put more effort in. Ron never dated anyone in high school, and it was her choice. Like, she didn’t want to date anyone ever. But I thought that because it was the last chance, I’d do something cheesy and fun. And she said yes which was really cool. I saved up to rent a suit and everything. But come like, fuck, three days before prom, she told me she was going with a group of girls instead.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “The fuck? Why would she do that?”

Eddie grimaced. “They were all going to the same college. Thinking about it now, I guess she just wanted to have some kinda safety net going in. But, at the time, I was fucking furious. Like, this is my best friend. I spent the little money I’d had on renting a suit. In advance. And there was a cancellation fee. In a small town with fuck all people. Tell me how that makes any sense.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Anyways, I was pissed. So, I went over to her place and just fucking unloaded.

“I told her she was selfish for trying to fit in with these lame girls who she’d hardly spoken to. Ronnie told me that I didn’t know shit about who she did and didn’t talk to. And when I tried to tell her we’d been best friends since we were kids and that I definitely knew who she did and didn’t hang out with, she told me that she’d been buddying up with these girls at school for months. Oh, and that she never told me because she knew how I’d react.”

“Y’all never resolved it?” you asked after he paused. “It seems like a mild miscommunication.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a mild fight, especially at seventeen,” he said with a quick glance over at you. “I told her she was a piece of shit for hanging out with these rich fucks who would never understand her or let go of the fact that we’re ‘trailer park trash’—again, I was seventeen so I had no idea I shouldn’t even think like that.

"But she said that, you know, not all rich kids are as judgmental as I thought they were and that these girls were kind. It didn’t matter if Chrissy and Heather were on the cheer squad. They liked her for her. Guess I couldn’t stomach it. I told her she was a gullible idiot. She told me to fuck off since I was clearly jealous that she had friends and I didn’t. Which is, shit, half-true.

“I told her to get her rich little friends to pay me back for my stupid tux and then to leave my life for good. I honest-to-god convinced myself that that had been her plan all along—get the full-ride scholarship and ditch her best friend. The next morning, I found an envelope with enough cash to cover my tux and Wayne and I’s bills for, like, three months with a note telling me that she’d never forgive me for what I said to her and…to have a good life.” 

You noticed his eyes begin to glass over, as if it was too painful for him to stomach. “And…and there was a note from Chrissy. Chrissy fucking Cunningham, this perfect-looking cheerleader that had the biggest dickhead for a boyfriend—captain of the goddamn basketball team and as hardcore Christian as people are here.” He shook his head. “Yeah, she, uh, told me that she was sorry that people treated me like shit and that, for what it was worth, she’d done everything she could to stop the bullying but failed. And she didn’t want to graduate without letting me know she’d always found me cool and to just push through. Said she believed in me and my music and everything.”

A tear escaped Eddie’s lashes. Without hesitation, you reached over to catch it before it cascaded down his cheek. And without any knowledge as to why, your pointer finger lingered there, brushing his skin. As if it was second nature.

You could’ve sworn you saw his tense posture ease, his spine finally meeting the seat. But he kept his eyes on the road, leaving you to remove your finger when he turned on his blinker. You didn’t look away from him as he veered off onto your exit.  

“I met all those weird kids that next school year and through them found Robin and Steve. Fucking Steve Harrington who was born into money and was popular and shit. I mean, his nickname was King Steve. Like, how fucking pretentious, right? But he’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. Sometimes he’s a little stupid, the definition of a himbo, but nice nonetheless. He helped Wayne and I out the moment he caught wind from Robin that we were close to getting evicted. All three of us worked and got our degrees online at night. Then we…came here.”

You couldn’t help but watch him, noticing the way that he was filtering between different emotions by the second, as if he didn’t know how to feel about it. Even now.

“All of this to say…yeah, I’ve royally fucked up before. I made that bed. I lie in it every day of my life.” 

You stayed quiet as he pulled into the parking space facing your apartment building. The poor excuse for a streetlamp barely gave way to his features now. But Eddie turned his torso to face you, fingers tapping along the cupholder. His eyes found yours, the captivating brown swallowing you in its intensity. “Okay, so what’s your story? How’d you royally fuck things up?”

The only thing you could do was pause, the stillness of the van and the distant hum of cicadas finally allowing you respite. You couldn’t help but search his eyes, trying to find a reason to keep him in the dark, to keep that hidden pain inside and shield him from your mistakes.

But it was in that scouring that you realized that you had no reason to hide. If Eddie was willing to show the nasty parts of himself, why shouldn’t you?

“Can we go inside first?”

One spilled pot of mac and cheese, two cigarettes, and three shots of vodka later, you finally told Eddie what happened.

You both sat criss-crossed on the rug next to your coffee table, facing one another. Stray hairs fell over Eddie’s face, his curls now wrapped into a low bun. You couldn’t help but find it cute, even in the face of your unspoken history being brought to the surface.

“I had kind of a big friend group the last few years of college,” you started finally. “I had this D&D group with a few of them and I was really happy. But then I met this other group one night and, I don’t know, I guess I just felt this desire to be loved.

“It was these two couples who’d been best friends since high school and they found out that I was bi and since all of them were too, they thought it would be fun if we all kissed each other and even, like, go further, I guess. We never did the further thing, though.”

“This is the gayest thing I’ve ever heard,” Eddie commented, a hint of a playful smile on his lips.

This made you chuckle. “I know, right? Truly doomed by the narrative since the start.”

“Truly.” 

“So, anyways, I hung out with them a lot. Smoked a lot and kinda forgot my other friendships. I still saw them, but I was just so intrigued by how much those people wanted me. Me, some girl from Tennessee who hadn’t seen much and was in this huge city and… I think I got blinded by the opportunity to have four different people want me like that. I don’t even think I realized I was being used until it was all over.

“One of them even told me what to say whenever we all hung out. Just to, like, put out feelers for kissing, I guess? And I would say what they told me to and just giggle because I thought it was just stupid fun. Like, they knew the others better than I did so, to me, it was just a harmless joke. I didn’t actually expect for us to kiss all the time. We were supposed to be friends first. I even thought we were all close friends by the end of it.”

“What about your other friends?” Eddie asked. “Where did they go?”

“Well, they were trying to tell me that I wasn’t the same, that I was acting all weird and that it wasn’t like me to keep skipping sessions. They told me that they didn’t even like my new friends and that they were worried about me. That they’d heard bad things about them. And because I had a big mouth, I brought this up with the new friends and they just…” You took a deep breath, trying to keep everything inside you from erupting. “They told me to leave everyone. To forget about people who were hating on us for no reason. So…I did. But that’s when it all went to shit.”

It took another deep breath for your heart to slow, the resurfaced memories as bright as they could be. The feverish kisses in their dorm room, the twining of hands in hallway shadows. Their dark blue hair in your hands, tongue piercing brushing against your lips. How it was all you craved, how it was the most painful guilt you’d ever experienced. 

“The one that asked me to say stuff…we kinda kissed when other people weren’t around. And I didn’t know it, but they’d dated one of my other friends.”

“The one that did the D&D group?”

“Yeah, she’d been my best friend. But they’d dated long before I knew the person.”

“So, what, this new new friend didn’t want you being friends with their ex?”

“And said ex didn’t want me being friends with this new new friend. She was trying to warn me, but I didn’t understand. I didn’t get it.”

“Wait,” Eddie said, holding up his hand. “Okay, I think I’m getting confused. They’ve both got names, correct?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle again. “Okay, so Blake, my best friend at the time, was dating Devon who was part of this new new friend group. Blake tried to warn me that Devon was bad, but Devon was saying the same stuff about Blake. And then Devon was the one I kissed when their boyfriend, Ryan, wasn’t around. Which I admit is shitty of me, but Devon swore they were in an open relationship. Which I really did believe. We were all kissing, you know?”

“I’m guessing they weren’t.”

With a nod, you continued. “This group only lasted, like, five months at the most. After New Year’s which, by the way, was spent with all of us making out and being the gayest group of people on Earth, I suddenly had absolutely no contact with them. They all ghosted me. And when I asked Devon what was up, they told me that the kissing was too much and that they were concerned I was getting too close. And that I wanted more from them than they wanted from me ‘cause they were in a happy relationship.

"Which, not that it matters, but they weren’t. Both couples fought in front of me all the time. It was bizarre how many times it was like I wasn’t even there.”

You couldn’t help but think of the day all five of you went on a hike together. Devon and Ryan passed around a four-hundred dollar dab rig that they thought was a great idea to bring into the woods. Devon slipped on a rock, causing the dab rig to crack which then resulted in a full-on screaming match. Ryan unloaded into Devon, wondering how they could be so stupid. Devon had stayed at your apartment that night, crying in your arms. The other couple, Eve and Corie, had just as many arguments, usually pissing contests over who was more unhappy. It truly was a bizarre time in your life.

“And all this time…I resented the friends that I’d been close with. I resented Blake for so fucking long. I just thought she was so judgmental and rude and mean and…” Shaking your head, you turned away from Eddie. You couldn’t stand to look at him, to remember that he was even listening to you. “I let her down and couldn’t even go back because she didn’t want me. None of them did. Blake, Lisa, Jessie, and Jana told me that what was done was done and that I couldn’t come back. No matter how much I apologized.” 

“They didn’t even hear you out?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s kinda bullshit.” The comment made you turn back to him, watching as he shook his head. “I mean, you made some bad friends, yeah, but you realized you fucked up and had the balls to face them and apologize. They could’ve heard you out. Especially Blake.”

“Couldn’t you say the same about Ronnie?” you questioned.

You thought it would sound harsher than you meant it, but Eddie understood. He gave you a half-smile. “Yeah, you’re right. I could.”

Nodding, you added, “I take responsibility for the role I played in the destruction. I regret hurting them every day. Mixing friendship and romance is…” You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t know. It’s tricky.”

His eyebrows lifted, voice laced with intrigue. “You didn’t mention it being romantic.”

“I said we kissed when Devon’s partner wasn’t there,” you stated plainly.

“Kissing and romance can be separate.”

A bitter scoff left your lips, quiet resentment still sitting in your bones. “Well, maybe I was the only one kissing with feeling then.” 

You never wanted to repeat that desperate yearning for someone that didn’t feel the same way. Never again would you waste your time on someone who didn’t want you. If lines were to blur and cross, you would have to draw a deep fucking strike in the sand. 

Especially if they were already in a relationship.

“I do know I was a homewrecker. I saw they broke up a few months later. All their pictures had been deleted off of Devon’s Instagram.”

“That relationship was unstable long before you came around,” he reasoned.

Shaking your head, you said, “Yeah, but I still kissed Devon when I was well aware they were dating Ryan.”

“And you haven’t stopped beating yourself up for your mistake for how long?”

“A little over a year,” you whispered.

Eddie paused, his eyes wandering around the room until they landed on you again. “So…when you said you were taking it all in…”

“I meant the fact that I actually have a friend again.”

“Best friend.”

As you gazed at him, you couldn’t help yourself from leaning over and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Woah,” he whispered before bringing you further into his grasp.

A rush of tears left your eyes, a choking sound leaving your lips. The release of a story once held too tightly to your chest, the understanding and compassion of someone who truly accepted you for your mistakes. It was overwhelming to feel this restored, to feel something unfurl and begin the process of mending. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t be,” he whispered back. “I’m guessing you haven’t told anyone?”

“There hasn’t been anyone to tell,” you admitted. 

You realized that this was the first time you’d ever hugged. 

“You’ve made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean you’re a piece of shit. You just got caught up in that feeling. I get it. I mean, I ruined shit by wanting to be picked over other people. It’s not the same, but it kinda is at the same time. So, I get it. I get you.” His eyes shifted away from you before they came back, elation filling them. “But guess what?”

“What?”

“We can move on. Together.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

“Well, we can keep each other in check. If you ever lose yourself in someone, I’ll let you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

You couldn’t help but blurt out, “You say that now.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “What, is that a challenge to prove you wrong?”

As you looked at him, you couldn’t deny that something was bubbling in your stomach. Bubbling? Blooming? Whatever it was, you liked it. “I don’t know, do you want it to be?”

“Yeah, maybe I do,” he stated, grinning.

And then Eddie was the one to initiate the hug, quickly wrangling you into his arms. You nearly sat on his lap, just holding one another. You couldn’t say how long you sat there, breaths lining up and grips tightening. 

Maybe looking back was the only way you could truly see how far you’d come. How far you were able to go now, with the past staying exactly where it needed to be. And, at least for now, you had Eddie at your side.

thank you to everyone who has been supporting me during this hiatus :') it has meant everything to me

[live-laugh-legolas]

What candy the fellowship likes

Aragorn:

-I don’t think he is a candy man, but he does have a sweet tooth

-Man loves a good cake, especially chocolate

-He also likes DOTS like a fucking weirdo (sorry if you like those)

Legolas:

-Legolas definitely eats the most sour candy with a straight face

-Snorts tartaric acid

-Actual grave mouth

-It’s kind of concerning

Gimli:

-Eats the spicy candy

-Not because he particularly likes it

-But he wants to prove to himself that he can take it

-Face goes really red, doesn’t handle spice well

-Also loves grandma candy, especially butterscotch

Boromir:

-Eats candy like a little kid with no taste buds and just wants the big swirly lollipop because it looks cool

-Seriously those things have no flavor

-Those paper slips with the colorful sugar dots that you use to decorate gingerbread houses

-If he’s feeling spicy he will have rock candy as a special treat

Frodo:

-Gummy boy

-But the old fashioned ones that sit like rocks in your stomach

-Like the one that looks like eggs

-And those circus peanuts; would eat a packing peanut for science

Sam:

-I don’t think this hobbit has much of a sweet tooth

-Probably likes gourmet dark chocolate and a cheese platter

-Chocolate covered strawberries will put a smile on his face though

Merry:

-Likes the nutty chocolates

-And nougat; would swallow a Three Musketeers whole

-Really likes toffee as well

Pippin:

-As long as it is labeled as candy he will eat it

-Keep any fake food away from him in general because he will eat it even once he realizes it’s fake to prove a point

-Goes feral for a Nerds Rope

-I also think he loves carrot cake with the cream cheese icing

Gandalf:

-Jelly beans, but doesn’t care if they taste bad

-“hmm *smacks lips* alas! Earwax”

-I’m not comparing him to Dumbledore but he definitely would do that exact same thing ^

[undiscovered-horizon]

Agnus Dei - Kaz Brekker x Grisha!Reader

[vulgar language, unresolved grief]

SUMMARY: When one of his Crows is revealed to be a Grisha on the run from the Black General, Kaz needs to make a decision: their lives or hers?

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.2k

[PART 2 RIGHT HERE]

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

Everything is going according to plan: the guards didn’t change their routes, the vault was where it was supposed to be, the lock combination Inej acquired worked, the necklace and documents were inside. And yet, you can’t help but feel that something is off as though you have forgotten a pair of socks when packing for a trip - a detail small and unimportant, while capable of making a substantial difference. Like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

A tremor shakes the manor down to its foundations. Dust and pebbles fall off the ceiling in an ominous cloud. Overhead crystal chandelier rings as the small gems clatter against one another.

Blyat.

There it is. 

“What was that?” Jesper asks an octave higher than he normally would have.

“The dynamite must have compromised the stability of the building,” Kaz says as his eyes trail the cracks forming along one of the walls. “We need to leave.”

“Are you saying-”

“Crushed to death, Jes,” you cut him off.

“Why can’t you ever give me a nice surprise? It’s always death and injury.”

You cross your arms on your chest. “Do I look like Ded Moroz?”

Jesper gives you a childish, playful smile. “I wish you did.”

“Come on,” Inej impatiently rushes the two of you. “You can biker when we’re out.”

Everyone follows Kaz, who weaves and turns through the palace corridors as though he knows them like the back of his hand. Considering how much time he had spent staring at the blueprints, it might well be true.

The tremors only grow in strength and frequency. The low hum of crumbling foundations is interrupted by the heavy, rushed footsteps of the guards. You are yet to run into them but considering they thunder somewhere above your heads, it’s only a matter of time before you look down the barrels of their muskets.

You jump to the side when a boulder falls next to you, a mere inch from crushing you. The muskets have to wait.

It’s hard to walk straight when the ground is shaking so much. Pieces of the ceiling and upper floors have you weaving and running into whatever hasn’t fallen yet.

“We won’t make it out in time!” you yell over the noise of crushing foundations and an avalanche of rubble coming your way.

“We will!” Kaz yells back. You’re unsure who he’s trying to convince more: himself, you or the decaying building. “Just go!”

“The entire ceiling’s coming down!” Another block of stone falls in your vicinity, throwing dust and ground bricks into the air. The flecks claw at your throat as you cough. Your eyes burn. “We need to find cover!”

Brekker stops. He lifts his head to look at the cracked bricks above the four of you. In the cloud of dust and refracted, dim light, you notice his face losing colour. 

“Hide!” he interposes. Jesper and Inej waste no time curling up underneath tables and fallen shelves.

You’re almost under a desk, sheltered from the rubble about to fall on your head but something stops you from seeking safety - sudden confusion at your own actions. The realization creeps up on you, making you surprised that at some point you really have forgotten that you don’t have to hide from overgrown pebbles and crushed chandeliers; at some point, you have truly believed the lie you’ve been telling everyone for so many years.

Time seems to slow down as you stare at the crumbling ceiling. You don’t breathe, your heart doesn’t beat. Just the rubble above you and the ringing in your ears. Something tingles in your fingertips when you absentmindedly rub them together.

Do it.

Your thoughts float towards the three Crows. Sure, they’re criminals but do they deserve to die for that? Should they perish, so you can take your secret to the grave? Casualties of war they didn’t wage?

Do it.

Perhaps this day was always coming.

Jesper pushes his head further between his knees, awaiting the final blow. But it doesn’t come. Hyperventilating and confused more than ever, he opens his eyes. The floor is covered with dust and pieces of bricks. Maybe he’s already suffered brain damage or maybe those pebbles and shards really were floating an inch above the ground.

“What in-” he whispers to himself.

The dust collecting in his lungs throws him into a coughing fit. He manages to get on his knees and stand up holding the desk he’d been sitting under. Jesper’s eyes meet Kaz and Inej, who appear just as confused at the fact that they’re still alive. Even more - not a stone threatened their well-being.

Inej suddenly gasps, vaguely pointing away from the three of them. The men’s gazes follow her hand right to the tip of her finger and that’s when they see it:

You’re standing a few meters away from their hiding spots, hands lifted over your head as though you were lifting something. Boulders and falling furniture hang mid-air, stopped by a mysterious violet flame pushing them away from the floor. With a small hop to the side, you swing your hands, making the rubble fly across the already-ruined hall. The remnants crush against the wall, breaking into smaller pieces before settling on the ground. Not a wrinkle, not even a bead of sweat runs down your skin when you turn around to look at them with guilt and apology painted all over your face.

Jesper is the first to break the silence of flabbergast:

“What was that?”

Inej stares at you with wide eyes, her lips slightly agape. "You're Kosomova.” It’s a statement, not a question. She seems to still be deciding between awe and disbelief. “The Lost Dynasty of Sankt Mikhail."

"What's dormant is not lost, Inej,” you say while awkwardly rubbing your hand. There’s no point in lying anymore. “It's just hidden."

You feel his stare boring into you but you don’t dare meet his eye. Just like this beautiful manor, the foundation of his trust has crumbled. It’s hard to estimate the damage and the prospect of whether it is possible to raise the palace once more. Perhaps he’s silent for now but you know this knot must be untied; a cast-aside viper always slithers back to bite.

The boulders and furniture you threw at the wall have breached it in a rather impressive manner. You can leave and disappear in the crowd before the guards even get to this part of the building. There is something positive to barely escaping death, after all.

"Mikhail?” Jesper repeats, his eyebrows furrowed. Walking through a gaping hole in the wall, he squints his eyes when daylight hits his face. “As in Mikhail the Unbowed? Didn't the Black General issue a bounty on his whole bloodline?"

"And it keeps growing every year or so,” you say indifferently while dusting the flecks of bricks and stone off your dark clothes. “Honestly, I'm kind of flattered he thinks I'm worth seven figures in Kruge."

People of Ketterdam stop by, look at the palace and then at you, only to shrug and carry on with their daily lives. Something about the malice residing in the air of this city makes everyone aloof to the plight of others. Most of the time you think of this tendency as wretched and heartless but today you can’t be grateful enough. Soon, all four of you are part of the uninterested, grey crowd flooding the cobbled streets. 

“But why?" Jesper coaxes, "What did you do?”

“I control gravity, making me a catalyst for any summoner,” you answer quietly in case someone can hear your conversation.

“Make or break the Fold,” Inej interjects.

“Probably, yeah.”

But his curiosity is not satiated just yet: “He already has the Sun Summoner. What does he want with you?”

Suddenly, you stop walking and Jesper almost runs into you. You look at your friend with a morbid seriousness he has never seen from you before.  “A man as ambitious as him will not stop at the Fold. He could turn the whole world into his own empire with me and the Sun Summoner at his service. Mountains will bow before him, oceans will separate so he can pass. No one should have that power.” Your gaze lowers, too ashamed to meet any of the faces staring hard at you. “Make arrangements to flee Ketterdam,” you interpose before taking a few steps backwards. A turn, a rushed step, a rounded corner and suddenly you’re gone as though you were never there.

The stairs creak under someone’s weight. Irregular footsteps grow steadily louder until you hear a soft whine of the hinges as the guest pushes your door open. 

"You're leaving."

Hearing Kaz’s voice makes you stop in your tracks for a second, hands filled with clothes and trinkets hover right above the bag. A sting in your chest, that you wave away; you can’t get hung up on your feelings, not now. Not when they inevitably lead to tears.

"Once the news travels across the Fold, the Black General will be here in no time,” you say without looking at him. With a newfound will to get away as quickly as you can, you continue packing up a lot faster than you did before. “Promise me that you will do everything to survive that. Sell me out, I don't care. Just promise me you will be fine."

"When were you going to tell me, Kosomova?"

Surprised, you drop the utility belt you were about to toss on top of the heap of clothes already in the bag. The hint of angry disappointment, a bitter betrayal, in his voice makes your heart break.

You give him a quick glance, only to pick up the belt and resume packing as though you’re absolutely fine with this strange situation.

"Please, don't call me that, Kaz.” No matter how unbothered you want to seem, he’s a bit too observant not to notice the pleading tone hiding between words.

"It’s your name."

You let out a sigh. Standing up and straightening your back, you finally dare to divert most of your attention to him. Face-to-face, as befits something between companions and colleagues.

"I haven't been Kosomova in over a decade. The life I lead and the people I'm grateful to love, I've done all of this as Zavrazhny. So that is my name.” Your eyes escape his face for a moment when you feel embarrassed at your own naivety. “And I wasn't going to tell you. Ever.” Awkwardly rubbing your arm, you look at him once more. To your own horror, his expression doesn’t falter, stuck in this indifferent frown he wears most of the time. What is he thinking about? “It was stupid of me to think I could actually escape my ancestry but a girl can dream."

Too ashamed to look at his face any longer, your gaze falls to the floor. Maybe this day was always coming. 

You fasten the bag and throw it over your shoulder. It’s grown heavy since the last time, pulling you down with the weight of both your useless souvenirs and the memories they hold. Some of them you can probably sell for a nice price, earning you a night of rest on something better than a haystack.

When you’re about to walk past Kaz and out of your room, surely to disappear from Ketterdam and resurface on the other side of the world with a new name and backstory, he suddenly lifts his cane in front of you. Frustrated, you look at the symbolic blockade and only then at him.

Turning his head to the side to look at you, his gaze appears even angrier than before. "You are not going anywhere,” Kaz nearly grits through his teeth.

Why won’t he just let you go?

Your voice is equally low when you answer him. "This isn't the bloody time to play broody and bossy, Kaz. I'm endangering the entirety of Ketterdam with my presence, I'm-...” you stop yourself from finishing the sentence, wondering if you really want to float along this wave of honesty. He slightly lifts his eyebrows, egging you to continue. Your voice is suddenly very quiet, as though you’re afraid someone else might hear you too. “I'm putting you at risk. And I can't have that."

"Have you any idea how much I have invested in you?" The stress he puts on the word is odd as though there is a hidden meaning behind it - one he can’t quite make himself say outright. You feel your chest tighten at the realization. It’s not a monetary value he’s speaking of. No, it’s something he’s too afraid to name correctly even inside his own head. "You're staying here, even if I have to make you."

You shake your head. "I don't want everyone sticking out their necks for me. It's not worth dying for. I'm not worth dying for. Save yourself, Kaz. This is not your fight."

"If it’s you the Black General is after, it is my fight."

His intense gaze makes you break out a flustered smile. "You have a very strange way of saying you care about me, you know?"

Reprieving your decision to flee, you toss the bag back on your bed. Kaz follows your movements with a questioning look on his face as you drop onto the chair by your working table. He thinks the scattered papers on your desk and notes pinned to the wall are very befitting - mind working faster than a steam train, albeit slightly chaotic.

For a moment you’re not saying anything. Slouched and with a vacant look in your eyes, your whole persona just screams defeat. None of the three Crows has seen you like this before, making you realize that this unusual demeanour is going to change a lot on its own. Once shown vulnerability can never be taken back, for the better or worse.

"I’ve never told you how I got here in the first place, have I?" you ask. Kaz catches your gaze once more, only to realise something about it has changed. The fire that once resided inside you is nowhere to be found, its place taken by something chilling and haunting. "Around a decade ago, the Black General caught wind of my family. We knew he was coming. One day, my mother packed all of my belongings and told me to leave. I won't ever forget that look on her face - the anger, the shame, the guilt…” Unknowingly, you raise your eyebrows and shake your head slightly. As grief’s fangs gnaw at you, her face appears before your eyes like a mirage; someone’s reflection on the surface of disturbed waters. “She grabbed my shoulders and said 'Forget your pedigree. You have to go out there, see the world, live how you want and be who you want. This family has suffered enough.' So I did. I didn't hear from her ever again. When I was boarding a ship from Novokribirsk to Ketterdam, I overheard the sailors talking about a slaughtered village in the woods. And I knew…” You take in a ragged breath, feeling emotions flooding your head. Even after a decade, this wound hurts just the same. “I knew I couldn't go back. There was nothing to go back to, so I moved forward. It was the only direction left."

It’s too late. You can’t stop it. Tears sting your eyes and you look away from Kaz, grasping at the serious and professional demeanour you’re so desperate to keep. Alas, it has escaped your shaky hands.

A sob violently shakes your body. You have to cover your mouth with your hand to stop the sounds of agony from reaching his ears.

“She died alone, Kaz,” you whisper in a weak voice. Anguish clenches your throat, making you unable to breathe for a moment. Tears stream down your face, salty taste on your tongue. “Rotting in the middle of the woods because there was no one to bury her. Abandoned.”

“If you were there, you would have died, too.” His tone is strangely gentle but you don’t notice it at the moment.

He grips his cane tighter when you look at him with red, glossy eyes. “You can’t know that.”

“Then the Black General would kill your mother just to get to you.”

“Maybe he’d spare her if I agreed to go with him. Or I would have killed him.” You take in a deep although ragged breath, trying to calm yourself down. Kaz wishes he could do something. With the sleeve of your coat, you wipe your face. “She died because I ran, didn’t she? So, maybe if I stay… Maybe I have a chance at redemption.”

“Her death wasn’t your fault.”

Your eyes snap back to his face. They’re still red but not sad anymore. No, something strange clouds them, something Kaz sees only when he looks in the mirror. “But yours will be if I don’t get my shit together. I can’t just keep running. It’s not who I want to be.”

“If you kill General Kirigan you will be running for the rest of your life.”

“I’ll be doing it anyway. Might as well earn the right to the name Kosomova.”

Suddenly, you rummage through the plethora of pockets you have in your layers of clothing. Something gold glints between your fingers but it’s so quick he can’t even begin to guess what you’re holding in your palm when you offer it to him.

“Kaz, I want you to have something. Just in case anything happens to me.”

You open your hand to reveal an antique pocket watch. It looks worn out, a thin layer of verdigris discolouring the keepsake. Golden coating lost its shine and the decorative engravings are nearly completely smoothed out as though someone had been rubbing its surface. For good luck, perhaps. Although barely visible, three cursive letters on the front are still legible: K. M. V. 

Kosomov Mikhail Victorovich

Kaz takes the pocket watch, for a moment examining your face in detail. Do you not expect to survive the Black General? Or perhaps this is a token of your trust if not affection? 

He gently presses the button on top of the watch and the lid pops open. On the right side is the face of a clock but the hands aren’t moving. Judging by the engraving on the front, the watch has to be several centuries old, making it impossible to say when exactly the mechanism has given out. His gaze follows to the other side of the keepsake, where a message was crudely carved out with something sharp: Я ранен был, но не упал.

“I was wounded but didn’t fall,” you quote. “It’s a family motto.”

Kaz closes the watch with a loud clasp. His gaze returns to you and for a moment you think there’s a shadow of dread dancing across his irises. Then his face turns nearly into a scowl. What fine smithing it really is, to reforge affection into anger.

“Make sure you stick to it,” he orders while stuffing the keepsake in his pocket. “We need a plan.”

“How much time do you think we have?”

“A week at most.”

A half-smile crooks your lips. “Then let’s make it count.”

______

Yes, there will be part 2.

[qhoaaaa]

Guys I'm suffering

I got 12 mosquito bites on my legs and...

(SUGGESTIVE, MINORS DNI)

If fool!Milo don't come here and suck em outta me THENNWHATSBTHEEPOINTT

Maybe he can get some nibbles too after HEBEHEHEBEEH

BUT IM IN PAAAIINNNNN 😞😞😞☹️☹️

[southernbluebellereader]

Can i request for a family trip with captain price x fem reader and the task force 141 going on a trip to disneyland and price and reader being ultimate parents mode and they also act like a old married couple and the task force teases them about it 👀

Family Day

Captain John Price x F! Wife Reader acting like a old married couple

Warnings: Some cursing, Price being Dad, Task Force 141 being absolut children. Mention of death.

Master List (Tag List at the bottom)

A/N: OMG THIS THIS THE CUTEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN. I LOVE IT. I'm gonna make the reader a civilian because for some reason that makes more sense to me? I hope you like it though! Thank you so much!!

"Simon, baby, your face paint is not sunscreen," You sigh as you beckon him to come closer to you as you pull out a baby wipe out of your pocketbook.

"Bu-"

"Ah! No buts, no cuts, no coconuts! You ain't leaving this room until I get this off of you. C'mere."

Simon did as he was told and leaned forward, letting you, Mrs. Price, wipe the black face paint he habitually put on nearly every day. Johnny snickered as he watched you wipe Simon's face. Annoyance radiated from his body.

"Oh hush, Johnny! Didn't you burn your ears on your last mission?"

Johnny stopped laughing, mumbling under his breath.

"Hey!" Johnathan shot at Johnny, then chuckled, "Don't burn your ears off, Johnny."

Kyle was looking around the hotel room, scratching his head, "Anyone seen my hat?"

Simon and Johnny let out a 'dunno' in unison, making you and Johnathan sigh in unison, "Didn't you wear it when we got here?" he asked.

"Yeah bu-"

"You mean this one?" You held the hat in your hand, smiling. Kyle thanked you and put it on. Johnathan rounded everybody up as you packed extra sunscreen, snacks, and water.

---

How you and Johnathan managed to bring three adult soldiers to Disney World, neither of you know. But all of you are here. Johnny wanted to go on every ride. Simon refused to take pictures with Mickey Mouse. Kyle thought it was too hot.

"Simon, please, it's just one picture. You like Mickey Mouse!" You begged and pleaded. Johnathan chuckled as he held the camera. Kyle and Johnny whined. You eventually pulled Simon by the arm and placed him beside the person dressed up as Mickey Mouse.

You looked up at Simon and adjusted his collar, "Just one picture, that's all I'm asking for, aight?"

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled and took a deep breath. You gave him a reassuring smile, "I promise you won't regret it, sweetheart. I know it's a little overwhelming, but we gone go eat soon."

You went back to your husband, letting him take a few pictures of the boys, trying to encourage them to smile. Such an odd sight. You and Johnathan and his stupid hat that he insisted on bringing with him, he almost had a fit at the airport security when he had to take it off to run it through the x-ray.

But here you were, in front of Cinderella's Castle at Disney World, trying to convince three grown super soldiers to at least not whine in order to get a picture with Mickey Mouse.

Once finished, Kyle started complaining that he was hungry.

"Alright, alright. Let's go get something to eat," Johnathan gave you the camera and waited until you'd put it in your pocketbook before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, following Simon, Johnny, and Kyle in the direction of whichever restaurant they wanted to eat at.

Out of nowhere, you started laughing, then sighed.

"What?" Johnathan inquired, smiling at you, his beloved wife.

You wrapped an arm around his waist and looked up at him, "Oh Johnathan. What are we going to do with these boys?"

"You tell me. You're the one mothering them."

"What'd you just say? Who was the one who suggested to go to Disney World?" Both of you chuckled.

"It was Kyle actually."

"And somehow all of them, including you, forgot sunscreen, Johnathan."

They looked back up and saw the three musketeers standing by one of the smaller restaurants, waiting for you and Johnathan.

"Quit acting like oldies and get in here," Johnny crinkled his brows in hunger as he rubbed his stomach.

"Did you just call my wife old, MacTavish?" John playfully spit back.

"W-what?" Blushing, Johnny apologized and scratched the back of his head, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Price."

"Oh it's ok, Johnny, I forgive you." You rub his cheek gently.

Once the five of you arrived to the front of the line, suddenly the four men forgot how to order.

"Oh my God, you can't possibly be serious?" Mumbling under your breath, you turn to the restaurant worker, "I'm sorry for my husband our boys, but can we get started with some appetizers."

Our Boys. That's what you called them. Johnny, Kyle, and Simon looked at each other for a moment, then back at Johnathan. Johnathan just smiled and gave them a reassuring nod. They were your boys. Whenever you could, you sent Johnathan with copious amounts of food - most of it not allowed on the base - so that he and your boys could eat good food.

Sometimes you'd visit the base and bring food. You'd do their laundry. You'd clean up after them. If you were there, they wouldn't go to the doctor, they'd go to you for injuries - despite the amount of times you scolded them for it.

Sometimes when you happened to be on the base and sit in on a meeting and Johnathan would raise his voice at one of them, you'd chime in and say, "Excuse me? Why are you yelling at him? He did his best." The rest of the conversation would go as follows:

"Yes, I know, sweetheart. But this is important that they know they can't make mistakes-"

"Ok but there's no need to yell, Johnathan."

Johnathan would pinch his nose and sigh. Kyle and Johnny tried their absolute best not to snicker, but would be met with Johnathan yelling at them some more. "Why are you laughing right now?" Simon would just stand there in awe. His mask luckily covered enough of his face to hide it. He honestly didn't think that Johnathan could've ever met a woman like you - someone who could talk back to him and scold him, as if Johnathan wasn't a Captain of a military test force.

You always went above and beyond for them, whenever and however you could. You all reminded them of home - or what home could've been. Johnathan and you were those very few people who'd seen Simon's face. Around you, he could be Simon. You reminded him of his own mother. And sometimes you'd ask him about his own mother. Not to get information out of him, just to make sure she's taken care of. You were the first to notice a change in him when his mother passed. You had a silent bond with him that he truly appreciated.

---

By the end of the day, the five of you were spent. You all returned back to your hotel room. There were way too many blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the TV.

You stood in the bathroom doorway, brushing your wet hair as you watched the your boys scroll through the TV channels while all laying on the floor of blankets and pillows. Johnathan comes up behind you and hugs your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

"What're you thinking about, Y/N?" He whispered.

You kissed his cheek and placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it gently, then looked back at the scene in front of them.

"Would you want a Mini-141?"

Johnathan turned his head and looked at you in awe - no, shock.

You waved your hand in front of him, "Oh, not now! When we get home."

The both of you chuckled, making the three men turn their heads and look at the both of you.

"What are you talking about?" Johnny dared to ask.

You blushed and started giggling, Johnathan blushed slightly shot back at Johnny, "Shut up, Johnny!"

"What? I just-"

"Johnny, be quiet and pick a movie!" Simon voiced in annoyance, making the Scotsman mumble under his breath.

As they returned to the movie, you and Johnathan went back into the bedroom, picking a movie of your own. You occasionally looked up at your husband as he watched the movie, thinking about all the things that happened today. You wanted a family with him. But it was hard to start one with how often Johnathan had to leave. But you think that today was a glimpse of what having kids would be. And you couldn't wait to get home to begin that chapter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[ducktoonsfanart]

Happy birthday, Donald Duck! - 90th birthday of Donald Duck - Donald Duck through his periods and ages - Classic shorts, The Three Caballeros, Duck comics, Duck Avenger, Double Duck, Maui Mallard, Ducktales, Kingdom Hearts and Quack Pack - Duckverse - Duckverse in June - Week 1 - My version

Finally, that time has come, when the birthday of the best duck, Donald Duck, is celebrated. Yes, he's celebrating his 90th birthday this year and since he deserves all the special attention, I've drawn a set of all the versions of Donald Duck from his first appearance to today. By the way, found inspiration from this short: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42DBCwvlxtg

I certainly found inspiration in my drawing and related to the versions of Donald's nephews, which you can see here: https://ducktoonsfanart.tumblr.com/post/699647636818509824/huey-dewey-and-louie-duck-triplets-mania-85th https://ducktoonsfanart.tumblr.com/post/714708689115906048/happy-birthday-huey-dewey-and-louie-duck-plus

On June 9, 1934, Donald Duck made his first appearance in a classic short called "The Wise Little Hen" by Silly Symphony and invented by Walt Disney to be reimagined and modernized by Carl Barks, Al Taliaferro, Jack King and Jack Hannah and other authors. In the beginning, a duck with a long beak and excellent trolling, but then he became a grumpy and jerk duck, and later a very family and friendly duck. Yes, Donald Duck describes each and every one of us here, because we all share similar personalities to Donald Duck. Donald Duck has appeared in many cartoons, comics, video games, at Disney parks, in books, as toys, and in many other various ways. Since there are so many versions, I decided to just draw my favorite and most important ones that shaped Donald as we know him today.

Yes, Donald Duck from Mickey Mouse Cartoons by Paul Rudish is holding a piece of cake, along with the first version of Donald Duck from "The Wise Little Hen" which is actually the first version of him. And there is the first prototype of the character Donald Duck (from 1931, appeared in the book "he Adventures of Mickey Mouse"), a baby Donald Duck with a red balloon (if anyone has seen the Quack Pack episode "Can't Take a Yolk" knows what it's about), there's also Donald Duck as a little boy (from Topolino and European comics like Paperino Paperetto), Donald Duck from the classic shorts, caballero Donald with a sombrero from Don Donald and The Three Caballeros, soldier Donald Duck (WW2 propaganda cartoons movies), Sailor Donald Duck (from OG Ducktales), Donald Duck from comics (Carl Barks, Don Rosa, Romano Scarpa, Carpi, Vicar, Van Horn, Martina, Cavazzano, Midthun, Marco Rota, Carlos Mota and other authors), Donald from Ducktales 2017, Donald Duck in Hawaiian Shirt from Quack Pack, Donald as Superhero Paperinik (Duck Avenger), Donald as Double Duck (Secret Agent), Donald as Maui Mallard (Ninja), Donald from Fantasia 2000, Donald as Wizard from Kingdom Hearts , Donald as Indiana Jones from Quackshot, Detective Donald Duck from European comics, Musketeer Donald Duck from The Three Caballeros, Super Caballero Donald from The Legend of The Three Caballeros and Donald as the villainous Duck of Doom (from the Quack Pack episode "The Really Mighty Ducks"). There are more, but not all of them would fit in one drawing, and I apologize. Also, Duck Avenger was invented on this day. Duck Avenger was created in 1969 in a comic book by Guido Martina and Giovanni Carpi (correct me about the name of the author) and since then Donald has been an avenger and later he will be a real superhero.

I hope you like this! I wish the best duck a happy 90th birthday! Feel free to like and reblog if you're a Donald Duck fan! Just don't use my same ideas without mentioning me, thanks!

Also this is meant for the Duckverse in June as Week 1, and for @duckversejune2024, @tokuvivor , @secret-tester and @queer-in-a-cornfield. Also this is meant for all of you as my gift especially for those who love Donald Duck the most! Happy birthday Donald Duck!