#she’s.. persnickety

[pwurrz]

pretty girls hang out in the laundry room, and maxine is no exception to this rule!!

[persnickety-doodles]

this is the last thing you remember

[ervona]

I need to give Vit a name because as I keep saying it's just a rude nickname, and her giving away "Vita" as a contact is because it's genuinely nothing to her... she needs a real name that she wants

[hawnks]

my downstairs neighbor plays the cello 🥺

[ettawritesnstudies]

what's a story premise you've had lurking in your head but haven't done anything with yet?

I've got one mulling about called StoryWeavers where the magic system is based on the intersection of fiber arts, storytelling, and the metaphors behind them (manipulation "pulling on the strings", fate "caught in a web", creativity "spinning a yarn", etc.). This is inspired by my special interest of historical costuming and how much of our modern vernacular stems directly from how important fibercraft was throughout history and the legacy of the quiet women who kept the world clothed and how much politics happened around the embroidery hoop.

It would be a magical realism kind of story taking place in an ancient world where the gods and spirits walk amongst humans. I don't know what kind of culture I would want it to be inspired by because there's so many interesting historical fibercrafts. Right now I'm kind of torn between Incan because of the quipu writing system and the bridges woven over the mountains works really well thematically. I am afraid of writing this though because I don't want to appropriate anything and I would want to be sure to do a LOT of research and get sensitivity readers. Their patterns are also really gorgeous.

Alternatively I would want a Eastern European winter type of setting because I think these geometric and floral patterns are just so pretty and half of my family is Polish I don't know nearly enough about that mythology as I want to.

Anyhow, the plot goes as follows: In this little village is an old grandmother named Lohe who was a master of her craft, but has been losing her sight to old age. Her granddaughter, Janome, trained as her apprentice and the two of them work side by side, younger aiding the elder to cope with her blindness, and the elder guiding the younger's unpracticed hands. All is well with the world until one day, a sorceress (who may or may not also be a cursed dragon-like monster) steals the sun, trapping it in a bag woven so tightly that no light can leak through. The world is plunged into darkness and cold, and the Queen despairs, instructing every seamstress to get to work making blankets and cloaks to keep people warm.

Janome and Lohe decide they need to fix the problem because they can see their fellow weavers burning themselves out trying to save everyone else, and so they crochet shawls of feathers to fly into the sky, knit mittens that will let them hold the sun without burning, and sew skirts with tactile star maps embroidered into the fabric, so they can still read the skies when the wax of their candles is gone.

[they do the adventure]

[they save the day]

[hurrah]

The plot is still coming together, but I have some other mythological things I might want to feature. The Crane Wife story involves a crane sacrificing her feathers to sew into garments, so they are going to meet a crane woman at some point who helps them out. Maybe also a Selkie because of the sealskin thing. Spiders of course. Birds who weave nests. Storks are different from cranes but they're the bird on my favorite pair of embroidery scissors. There's a goddess named Trama that they need to help/ask for help, I haven't decided yet.

Just vibes.

Thanks for asking!

[intothewildsea]

@dilffactory (solas)

Mithril had invited Niamh out with her little group on a scouting mission, claiming that having Niamh around to tend to their wounds would be helpful. She didn’t mind, especially since it gave her a chance to get out of Skyhold for a little while.

She had to admit to herself, though, that she was a little uneasy about going with them, if only because Solas was in the little group. Something about the elf unsettled her. She couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t that he was rude or unkind - if anything, he was polite most of the time. Yet there was something lurking beneath the surface that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Sometimes, she noticed him looking at her in a way that made her wonder if he knew what she was.

They had stopped for a rest. Mithril was talking to Iron Bull, Varric was scribbling something down in his book (Niamh wondered if he’d ever speak to her again after the kissing incident at the ball), leaving her to sit off to the side near Solas.

She didn’t want to be rude and just ignore him. “Do you need anything? Any potions?” she asked after a few moments. “I have some in my bag.”

[gravything]

today we are proud of the cat because she asked for wet food and then actually ate most of it. good job, cat!

[space-mouse]

this is very "readers don't care about plot readers only care about plate tectonics" of me but man. MAN.

why would you do this.

[natalievoncatte]

It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.

You could just turn it off.

“What do you want, Danvers?”

Alex’s voice was thick.

“We can’t find Kara.”

Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”

Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.

“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”

Lena licked her lips.

“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”

“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”

“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”

“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.

“Right. Help us find her.”

“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”

Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.

Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.

After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.

Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.

She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.

“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.

Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.

“Red sunrises,” said Kara.

Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.

So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.

“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.

Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.

Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.

This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.

You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.

Kara answered on the third ring.

“Hi.”

Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.

“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”

“I beat the monster.”

“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”

No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.

Then she hung up.

A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.

She didn’t drive home.

Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.

She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.

Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.

“Kara?” said Lena.

Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.

“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing a red sunrise.”

Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.

She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.

Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.

“Alex send you?”

“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”

Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.

Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”

“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”

“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.

Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”

Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.

When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.

“Hey,” Kara muttered.

“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”

Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.

As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.

“Pain hurts,” she observed.

“It’ll do that.”

Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.

“I have her.”

“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.

Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.

“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”

“What now?” said Kara.

“Is the ice still cold?”

“Yeah.”

Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.

As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.

“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.

“Yeah,” said Lena.

It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.

(Fucking seriously?)

Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.

She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.

It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”

Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.

She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)

The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.

When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”

[ghostaholics]

bodyguard!ghost who’s tasked with protecting a civilian because the witness protection programme compromised her safety with an information leak that revealed her identity, so now there’s an entire crime syndicate that’s put a massive target on her back

neither have any tolerance for this new arrangement – she’s been stripped of her normal life and nearly killed twice within the span of two months so what the hell’s this imposing, masked man going to do for her that hasn’t already been tried by the incompetent law enforcement and other agencies that originally told her she was in danger

and “ghost” – what kind of name is that – there’s nothing anonymous about someone who’s built like a brick shithouse and hovers around her – a dark thundercloud that glowers at anything and everything (when she’s taking the tube, when she’s pumping gas, when she’s making small talk with the cashier who’s making heart eyes at her despite such an uninteresting topic of choice ugh)

meanwhile, he’d much rather be on the field doing ops than protecting a civilian that tf-141 needs alive due to her intel on the enemy’s whereabouts; he’s pretty sure that this assignment would have been better left to another member’s devices – like gaz, who actually has experience in vip protection, or soap who can stand human interaction longer than five minutes

anyways he goes over all the different rules and expectations he has for her while she’s under his watch, but because she’s a persnickety little thing, she’s got her own list for him that looks like it’s on a single piece of paper until it unfolds to reveal two additional pages – fuckin’ hell– he just knows that she’s gonna drive him crazy by being an uptight know-it-all

and it really is such a shame that she has to start her new identity as someone going by the name of mrs. riley

[gallusrostromegalus]

Is Tousen prescriptivist or descriptivist? As a librarian, he would certainly have strong opinions about it. For that matter, do any other characters have a notable stance on the topic?

For those of you who are not friends with linguistics nerds:

It is two truths largely universally acknowledged that 1. Words and Gramatical conventions mean specific things and 2. Language changes over time. Perscriptivisim is the perspective that WE HAVE RULES ABOUT LANGUAGE, DAMMIT. They have a point- for a lot of things we use words for like legal documents, manufacturing instructions, and medical research- Precision is KEY. But it isn't very flexible and doesn't account for some of the nuances of language. Descriptivism is a stance that is a bit more akin to your stoner buddy going "What even ARE words?". They have a point- language is, at it's core, a massive cooperative game of make-believe. But it'd not very helpful when you need to be clear about your meaning.

This can make editing... difficult.

Kaname had strong opinions on it when he was a librarian that have only gotten more insane and intense since becoming Editor-In-Chief of the Gotei-13's newspaper, but true to fashion, has managed to pick a position that pisses off everyone.

He's a Topical Perscriptivist.

There is a Meticulously updated and catalogued database of shifts in word usage, slang and novel grammatical structures. It's an incredible academic resource, and a helpful living translation document in the Gotei-13 where the last time the division policies got updated was in the Meji era. He's working on a mobile version for the newfangled 'smart' communicators. It's an incredibly useful tool!

Kaname pisses people off by using it to be a persnickety little shit about the grammatical rules of linguistic conventions invented last week.

"You know, if you want to annoy him back, you can try hosing your boss back with the constant stream of madness from the internet!" Keigo suggested to Shuuhei once. "There's a fun new term for throwing something real hard that could use an offi- You're kidding."

Shuuhei shook his head, handing the Official Conjugation of Yeet Document from the 9th division's Database of Current Linguistics to Keigo. "The Captain had this drawn up within an hour of the term hitting the 10th Division reports page. It's got a regular Perfect Tense, but Irregular and different Imperative, Continuous and Conditional tenses for maximum confusion."

"...That motherfucker." Keigo groaned, looking over the conjugation tables. "...I yeet, He yeets, we yote, I had yeeted, she had been yote, they will have been yet- Its so stupid but it makes so much intuitive sense! It's the perfect joke conjugation for a joke word!"

"That's why he's The Captain." Shuuhei nodded.

"I thought he was captain because he beat the crap out of Mugurama-san for the job? Twice?"

"Listen here you little shit-"

[persnickety-doodles]

Radiant 😘

[redstuffs-ig]

snippets of a possible star wars modern au I may make, but mostly just translating the events and characters of the series into a modern setting, let's call it "Whillstown". most of these are general fandom consensus, some are taken from AUs i've seen on Tumblr which I've really liked, but i've sprinkled some stuff of my own too

The Disaster Lineage is just a long, winding, complicated string of relationships. Great-Grandpa Yoda refuses to die and speaks cryptic riddles to whoever will listen. Grandpa Dooku won't shut up about politics and lives alone in a massive house with an adopted young adult going through one hell of a phase and his weird pet gecko. Anakin and Obi-Wan are adopted brothers, who both deal with their dad Qui-Gon's weird schemes and potential gambling addiction in the making. They've somehow befriended a kid called Ahsoka who babysits Ani's twins from time to time. Anakin's wife Padme is a town councilor and proud holder of the single set of brains in the entire family. Anakin is a real gearhead, with a loyal dalmatian named Artoo and a neurotic ginger cat called Threepio.

Palpatine is like. A regular politician. Somewhat shady, a bit controversial, but he's just the kindly mayor of Whillstown. The 'Dark Lord Sidious' meme spread when a young Luke Skywalker snapped a covert picture of the mayor in his favorite, hooded black dressing gown, and it's haunted the old man since.

Clan Fett is a gigantic extended family whom no one can make heads or tails of. Jango Fett is presumed to be the family's patriarch, despite only fathering a single son. Rex and Anakin are inseparable, while Obi-Wan and Cody are cordial co-workers who kinda had to become besties too in order to wrangle their brothers. Boba Fett is already a delinquent in his tweens, while an estranged offshoot somehow got custody of the only girl in the family.

'Mother' Talzin Opress is the neighbourhood witch. She has a... Complicated relationship with her three sons, and is an old friend of both Dooku and the mayor (She pretty much strongarmed Dooku into adopting the orphaned child of one of her late friends). Weird green light comes from her house at ungodly hours of the night, and few dare to even approach her door. Her eldest and middle children, Savage and Maul both started a punk rock band called 'Crimson Dawn', and even managed to unite all the town's bands for a music festival once. Maul and Obi-Wan beef over the pettiest shit, and Ahsoka beat him up once.

Han Solo and his dog Chewie live in a rundown trailer park off the outskirts of Whillstown. Despite being older than Luke and Leia by a few years, he became their best friend in their teens, something cranky old Ani does not approve of. He owns an utter shitbox of a Honda he lovingly calls the Falcon, which has a tendency to break down very often at the worst possible time. He also has beef with Boba Fett. Like, a LOT of beef with Boba Fett.

Lando Calrissian on the other hand is easily the most charming boy in town, and Han's ""best friend"". He always find success in his ventures while Han's numerous get-rich-quick schemes always find a way to blow up in his face, something the latter greatly resents.

In highschool, Leia got into a long feud with persnickety Headmaster Tarkin by way of numerous cases of malicious compliance and outright disobedience. The uptight principal was none-too-pleased to find the academy crest distorted into a 'wretched gray ball of death' one morning, after having imposed a strict break policy earlier in the week.

[our-happygirl500-fan]

Something that I have kind of been thinking about is differently Leo kind of seems to act when animals get mutated compared to how he kind of acts when the one getting mutated is a human.

Leo: Okay, so she's a mutant

Raph, Donnie & Mikey: [Screams]

Raph: Leo, if you'd just listened to me, we would've gotten the bugs and been hosing down Mikey right now

Leo: We did listen to you, Raph, and that persnickety guy was ironically mutated into a clumsy bull.

Leo: And did you see her camouflage power? Classy

Leo: But I feel terrible, we're the ones who made him into this

In the episode 'Bug Busters' Leo acts kind of upset & sort of annoyed when Bullhop does get mutated leading him to almost kind of nearly lash out in frustration & the episode 'Bullhop', Leo also seems genuinely upset when he expresses his guilt over the Turtle's part in Bullhop's mutation & Bullhop being mutated in the first place.

However in the episode 'Flushed, But Never Forgotten' Leo simply accepts that Piebald is a mutant now & seems more interested in her new powers. Which makes me kind of wonder if Leo is possibly more upset about humans getting mutated but less upset about animals getting mutated due to Leo possibly understanding or realising how mutating could affect a humans life.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

IM SORRY DID U SAY YOURE WORKING ON A FIC ABOUT “COP BIG DADDY ELVIS”?!?- please tell us more because this sounds like the greatest thing ever 😭

I did, Mon ami, I did indeed…welcome to the demented 2009, sweaty and non famous cop AU that @eliseinmemphis and myself cooked up in our feral yearnings one night.

Edit: it’s here

Allow me to lay a bit of the setting for us all, and maybe even throw in a few lines from the draft below.

Life is insular when you���ve been born and raised in a trailer park. A little El Paso suburb was never a thriving metropolis, what with its gas stations and dollar stores on the way to nothingness in the desert, but the recession didn’t help none. Your dreams of buying a car that might actually make it above 120 mph and not guzzle your wages in gas is a far off dream when you learn from officer Presley that your entrepreneuring father has been incarnated for racketeering across in Juarez. It’s a shame, a damn shame but it hardly throws a wrench in your life, you were already used to making it however you could. When workin’ at the trucker’s club turns into something a lil more illegal and Elvis has his morning waffle ruined by Joe Esposito yacking about the powers of your pink tongue…he feels a little responsible for leaving you without a father figure. He’s got top notch swamp coolers in his trailer, plenty of food and tiger figurines out front -and he’s got an interest in fast things, just like you.

You could do worse than shack up with such a fella; not that he’s offerin’ but you can tell by the flicker in his eye and the smirk of his lips that he’s as susceptible as the next guy watching you on the pole. Except this sweet, world weary cynic just might screw your gooey insides up worse than any threat or ogle from another man.

Snippet:

“Well, well officer Presley, finally got persnickety about laws, have ya?” you observed to yourself with a grin as you watched the handsome man swagger towards you along the white line in your side mirror, tugging at his pants as he neared, trying to shimmy the article of clothing a little higher but is impeded by his belt, stopped by his sizable belly, his holster and buckle sitting under the bulge of it.

Your mouth watered. It had been a year or two since you saw him last. He was always built, intimidating to all the stupid rascals he keeps in line along the border, but now he had become outright fat and his khaki shirt pulled apart between each button. Yet when he came up to your window, that little boy grin was still gracing one of the most exquisite faces known to man, and his voice was tender and playful when he greeted you, just as you once recalled. You could see his sweaty hair, matted on his chest and belly between the gaps, his underarms had massive pit stains, doubly apparent thanks to the light color of his police uniform.

Your smile had something of the she-wolf in it as you greeted him, sniffing the air in hopes of catching a whiff as he leaned on your window frame, nearly crowding you from outside. “Hey Miss Sweet Cheeks,” he greets, “you know why ya been pulled over?”

“Haven't got a clue, officer.” You stated the truth and enjoyed the way his title rolled off your tongue in a bantering way. It was easy.

Officer, officer. Somebody important and authoritative. No sir, yes sir, Officer.

His left eyebrow quirked and you wondered what he looked like at twenty five, how devastating that expression would have been before his wound and his meds and the water retention. Whatever power it may have once held, it holds nothing to this slightly bemused, slightly cynical world weariness that shows in his every expression now, that had a twitch of an eyebrow making you feel a fool. “You’re goin’ seventy in a forty five, Miss.” his tone was patient even as his face suggested he’d like to tan your hide for being so reckless. “Reckless endangerment of others, and yourself,” he quoted sternly, “it ain’t no small matter and I don’t countenance it on my highway.”

Gosh, you just loved it when he laid claim to government property like highways and interstates. It helped you smile meekly at him and nod.

“Sorry officer, I got lax.” You purred, batting your eyes and you could see the heavy flap of their coal coated weight in your periphery. “I’ve seen you lettin’ me flyby on the interstate. I guess I thought…”

[hippolotamus]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 🐝

tagged by the always lovely and talented (and a tad ouchy) @bucksbiawakening @theotherbuckley @underwaterninja13 @wikiangela @jesuisici33

@spotsandsocks @bidisasterevankinard @diazsdimples @elvensorceress @tizniz

@thewolvesof1998 (be sure to check out their snippets and fics if you haven't) (p.s. shameless plug that I'm updating my tag list for tag days, fics, etc.)

SO, James gave me this wonderful gift of a ballet au snippet after I bullied him into suggested it. In return (and since I was already toying with it) I made him some Bridgerton sentences. Follows this snippet. Master list here.

Henrietta and Karen Wilson, along with their son, Denny, are a staple of the Ton. They’re said to be closely connected to Robert Nash and his wife, Athena, though Eddie isn’t sure exactly how. He’s familiar with both families, but hasn’t had much opportunity to mingle with them. If mingling was something Eddie engaged in.  “Hen!” Chimney opens his arms wide to embrace her and then Karen. “How are my favorite hostesses tonight?” Hen and Karen share a skeptical look before Hen turns toward Chimney, raising an eyebrow. “Delighted, Howard. What do you need?”  “Henrietta!” He holds one hand to his chest in mock offense. “Can I not say hello to my two dearest friends?” “No,” Karen and Hen answer in unison.  Eddie stifles a chuckle, drawing Karen’s attention.  “Oh, hello,” she says politely, extending her hand to him. “I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m-” “Karen and Henrietta Wilson,” Eddie interjects, taking Karen’s hand and placing a kiss there before releasing it. “Edmundo Diaz. But you can call me Eddie.”  “I could’ve done all that,” Chimney mumbles under his breath.  “And you can call me Hen.” She offers him a mischievous smirk, nodding towards Chimney. “I’ll forgive you for keeping company with this one. So, what brings you over, Eddie?” “I was hoping you could help me. Or, I suppose, my mother is hoping you can help me.” “Oh?” He gives both women an abbreviated summary of his situation, explaining his ‘need’ to find a wife.  “Well,” Hen taps her chin. “I don’t suppose…” She trails off, glancing at her wife. They share small nods as if they’re having a silent conversation.  Eddie begins to fidget, looking between Hen, Karen and Chimney. Finally, Hen looks at Eddie again.  “Does it need to be a wife? Or a spouse?” “I-” The world around him seems to go quiet, replaced by a loud buzzing that drowns it all out. What would make her think- “A wife. It has to be- a wife,” he stutters.  Karen gives him an almost sympathetic look, like she knows something he doesn’t, then grasps her wife’s hand. “I may have one suggestion,” Hen says, carefully. “Bobby and Athena are hosting someone this season. A... widow. No children of her own. But she is being accompanied by her younger brother who I understand is a bit- protective.” “And persnickety,” Karen adds.  Eddie breathes an internal sigh of relief. A widow could be ideal. Someone who might be able to understand his complicated grief. And it’s not as if Eddie has any liabilities, beyond his mother of course. Charming one sibling should be simple enough.

np tagging @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @actuallyitsellie @filet-o-feelings

@queerbuckleys @bi-buckrights @chaosandwolves @epicbuddieficrecs @eowon

@fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @saybiwithme @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck

@indestructibleheart @kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999 @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites

@lizzie-bennetdarcy @loserdiaz @loveyouanyway @monsterrae1 @rmd-writes

@shipperqueen6 @spaceprincessem @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @steadfastsaturnsrings

@the-likesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck

@welcometololaland @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @a-noble-dragon @mrs-f-darcy

@drowsy-quill and anyone else who wants to 😘