#tsunami tour

[risiblesvmours]

[kehlanifenty]

[sunflowerwemadeit]

HOW THE FUCK DID HE SURVIVE BEING IMPALED TO THE HEAD WITH AN IRON REBAR

It is as deranged as it sounds

They even made a joke about it in 911 Lonestar which is the gay spinoff of 911 and they said something like "you won't believe it a guy survived a rebar through his skull and came back to work after a couple of months as well" 😂😂😂😂

[djladydior]

Kehlani's sold out show at Radio City Music Hall in NYC 8.9.22 🌊🧡

[sudutpandangjourney]

Tour Sejarah - Mempelajari Peristiwa Tsunami Aceh Dari Jejak Kapal Apung.

Halo pencinta sejarah..di perjalanan kali ini saya memandu teman-teman mahasiswa dari berbagai kampus yang ada di indonesia, mereka berkumpul dalam satu organisasi yaitu Perkumpulan Mahasiswa Nusantara.Study mereka kali ini bertemakan tour ke tempat-tempat sejarah. Nah, salah satu dari berbagai tempat sejarah yang mereka kunjungi adalah Mesium Kapal PLTD Apung yang berada di Banda Aceh. Lalu…

[galesdevoteewife]

[Later from this post] - Only a thousand? I wouldn't accept anything less than INFINITE!!!! The updated last kisses just swept me away like a tsunami to the depths of affection ocean...THEY ARE SO GOOD!!!! Especially the pull to kiss one!!!! I couldn't stop squeaking 🌊🫠🫠 I didn't expect that because I didn't even know there were updated last kisses, and I was like asdjghlrthgvnlkcxnvla GALEEEE??????? AM I DREAMING??????? Cause I thought I would only see this aggression in my brain???

I think they are bugged in the Upper City. I can only trigger last kisses in the Morphic Pool now (Hotfix #24)

[Note] It seems Ed used to gave elves a setting that when they kiss on the lips it works like mind meld. They get to take a tour at each other's mind, and even fight there. From 'Elminster In Myth Drannor (1997)'

She glided to a stop in front of him. He kissed her eyelids, and then her chin—but at her lips he found his way barred by two raised fingers. "Leave my mouth for last," she said from behind them. "For elves, that's particularly special." ... Their lips met, and then their tongues. And El faced the attack he'd been expecting. The bright sparks of a spell seemed to streak through his mind, with her will racing right behind them. Symrustar was seeking to control him, body and mind, to be her puppet, while she raked through his memories to learn all she could...especially human magic.

Also elves's erogenous zone seems to include palms and ear tips.

Elminster almost smiled as a memory flashed through his mind. In the library of a wizard's tomb lost in the High Forest there is a curious book that has no name. It is the diary of a nameless half-elven ranger of long ago, that tells of his thoughts and deeds, and the sorceress Myrjala had made Elminster read it to learn how elves regarded magic. On the subject of giving pleasure to elven maids, it mentioned using one's tongue gently on the palms of the hands and the tips of the ears.

[ladymalchav]

Evan 'Buck' Buckley giving his beau Tommy an 'I Almost Died Here' tour of LA.

'I choked on a bread stick in this restaurant. My date had to give me an emergency tracheotomy'

'Almost died in the middle of this intersection with a firetruck on top of me'

'Thanks for coming to Bobby and Athena's house party with me! This is the exact corner of the yard where I started coughing up blood and collapsed'

'Almost drowned during the tsunami at the Santa Monica pier'

'Got struck by lightning over there. Literally died that time, but I got better'

and Tommy is just, like, glad he got out of the 118 when he did

[badnewswhatsleft]

PATRICK STUMP (guitar, vocals): "If I were a superhero, I don't know—I sweat like crazy, so I'd probably have some sort of water-creation/manipulation power, and they'd call me something stupid, like 'Flashflood' or 'Tsunami'. My alter ego would be, like, 'John Waters' or something equally implausible."

(from Warped Tour 2005 official program)

[yandere-romanticaa]

You sat on your bed and let the silence envelope you, the scrunched up piece of paper in your hand giving you some peace of mind but at the same time, if you took the offer, everything you knew could be changed forever. It was hard to focus on anything, not when the smile of that handsome stranger was still fresh in your memory like it was yesterday. A few weeks ago, you went on vacation to Japan for a week or so and it was by far one of the most magical things you had experienced. It was not because of the food, it was not because of the culture or anything related to that.

The absolute highlight of your trip was a mysterious man named Dazai Osamu.

Your meeting with him was accidental but he called it fate. After saving him from a near drowning incident the man stuck by your side like glue, regardless of the dirty looks your family gave him. He proclaimed himself as your make shift tour guide, claiming that who else was better qualified to show you all the amazing sights in the city than a hot blooded local?

There really was no beating that logic.

In the end, Dazai spent the week with you and your whole family as bonus baggage. Whenever he could, he would take you all for himself and have long talks, many of which were an odd combination of silly and soul touching. The man was strange, jumping from silly antics to a profound man who had seen all of the pain and suffering in the world who just wanted to give you some (perhaps not necessarily) helpful advice and show you a good time.

"I see that look in your eyes." said Dazai on your last night in Japan. The two of you were walking and stopped to rest near the river he almost drowned himself in.

How poetic.

You remember turning to him, confusion written all over your face but Dazai's gaze was focused elsewhere. His tone was flat, but not unkind.

"Tired. You look so, so tired."

That summed up your situation quite well. You were tired. Everything, everyone, it was just so much. No matter how hard you tried, nothing seemed to be going your way. College was giving you a massive migraine, in your head the upcoming exams were less like pieces of paper and more like massive tsunami waves, ready to destroy you right where you stood and leave nothing behind. Your social life was no better, having lost a good chunk of friends due to either life getting in the way or you simply drifted apart. Some things just weren't meant to be and that was okay.

When was it all going to end though?

When were you going to be allowed to finally breathe?

Your family was of no help either. The constant fighting and shouting, their words cutting deeper than knives. "You are a failure."

"You are not trying hard enough."

"Why can't you just do better?"

Without warning, you felt the soft touch of Dazai's bandaged hand on your cheek.

You didn't even realize that you had started to cry.

His soft brown eyes held nothing but pure sympathy for you, the thin smile on his lips causing the flood gates to burst wide open as you threw yourself into his arms, full on sobbing into his coat as the man said nothing. One of his hands made its way to your back while the other was still on your cheek, the wetness of it staining his white bandages but he didn't mind. He wasn't going to tell you, but you were pretty like this. In tears, broken, weak.

...In his arms.

He did not know you for long but Dazai grew fond of you over the past week. Was it love? He certainly thought so! Or, at the very least, the beginning of love. He wasn't sure what he was feeling but one thing was for certain - he wanted you to stay.

The universe was kind to him, giving him an angel whose wings were already so damaged. The moment he saw you, he knew that all you wished for was to flee and never return, to move somewhere no one knew you and start fresh, away from everything and anyone that ever hurt you.

Dazai saw the opportunity. He siezed it like a true devil would. He planted the seeds inside your head and you had no clue.

"You know, you can always just stay here." said Dazai, a slight smile on his face. "My workplace is always hiring and I'm sure you would be perfect."

Was this even real? His kindness was otherworldly.

Even so, hesitation ate you up like nothing else before. Do you choose to fight your demons head on or will you run away into the unknown? The paper in your hand was a letter of recommendation which Dazai had written for you, all that needed to be done was for you to commit to the bit.

With feeling as if there was nothing else for you to lose, you grabbed your phone and dialed the number that was written on the other side of the paper. At almost lightning speed a cheerful "Hello!~" greeted you on the other side.

With a deep inhale, you said three words which would change the course of your life from that moment forward.

"Take me away."

You couldn't see it but Dazai was grinning on the other side of the phone. With a click of his tongue, all he said was:

"Consider it done."

You hung up, a smidge of relief washing over you. You were more than ready to leave the demons which haunted you right here, in your old home.

And yet, you had no idea just how horrible the next demon which was going to follow you around was actually going to be.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enomane, @ishqani, @satohruu, @bluepeanutharmony

[hanlimz]

synopsis: you always have room for yang jungwon. pairing: jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: best friends to lovers!!! / self-indulgent fluff! ig maybe angst if you squint, won compares himself to others, reader talks abt being in pain but it's not real (?), mayhaps this fic is a bit incoherent T_T i wrote this in one sitting that ended at 3am so quality may be a little iffy (sorry :,( , mayb i'll rewrite in the future!) wc: 1.4k a/n: cass write for someone that isn't yang jungwon challenge : FAILED ! nah but fr tho, this pic has a Grip on me n i was possessed to write. but in all srsness, i Am working on other non-won centric fics n they should be out.......soon (?)

[8:36PM] through the lens of your grandfather's old polaroid camera, the sun seems to cradle jungwon's face in her array of rich oranges and deep reds. she places her bright lips on the crown of his head and bathes him in a warm, summer light; her golden fingers reach down to smooth out a few stray strands of his hair while moving slowly to caress the sharp angles of his silhouette. however, the glow he radiates almost manages to outshine her as the peach hues of the sky only serve to accentuate his natural beauty. his cheeks are full and round after a (near) five course meal at your grandparents' cottage, his lips are a delicate pink that matches the swath of tulips outside of your old elementary school, and his eyes sparkle in a manner that mirrors the ocean behind him. and, in mere seconds, you decide that this vacation is one of the best ideas you've ever had.

two hearts healing together as one, each enveloping the other in blanket after blanket of pure, unadulterated adoration. with a gleeful flicker in his gaze that you weren't able to place, jungwon had agreed to accompany you—biking around your hometown while reliving old memories and chronicling stories of youthful grandeur. the tranquility had grown steadily, like the dawn of a new day or the promise of a new beginning, and the certainty of his presence came to be all-consuming and ever-existing.

perhaps, you dare to let yourself believe, jungwon had become your sun. since the fifth grade, he has been the one constant in your life. he was the young boy who led you on a tour of your new school after packing up and leaving the place you called home, and he was the kind stranger who helped you catch up on the topics you missed out on. jungwon was the hesitant acquaintance turned best friend, and he is the one person you want to be with after oblivion plagues the earth. but, drawing too close is dangerous—his heat could scorch your skin while his love turns you to ash. for a moment, you ponder that particular track of thought and allow the train to run its course. perhaps, you correct yourself, jungwon has always been your sun.

"[y/n]!" he calls, beckoning you forth from the daydream you found yourself trapped in, "did you get the picture?" no matter the timbre, his voice is melodic, hypnotizing—it is the perfect addition to the evening's quiet sonata. he sings alongside the croaking frogs and the chirping crickets, welcoming the moon as it takes its place in the night sky.

you reply, trying to push down the sudden panic rising in your throat, "not yet, won—stay just like that!"

the camera clicks as it snaps a photo of the masterpiece before your eyes. upon hearing the sound, jungwon leaps from his position on the rocks and bounds over to watch the film develop. with a gentle tug, he pulls the picture from your grasp; jungwon shakes it and blows on it before resigning himself to the painful reality of waiting. the nerves that were crashing like angry waves against the walls of your stomach become a tsunami as he settles with his shoulder brushing against yours. his touch hurts—his presence, though ineffably beautiful, singes the hairs on your arms and ignites a column of blue flame around your heart. a tumultuous contradiction begins to swell inside of you; the peace jungwon imbues in you fights tooth and nail with the doubt your brain conjures up.

don't get too close.

don't let his fire catch.

don't let yourself be caught.

as the colors turn vibrant and jungwon's form becomes clearer, you attempt to hold everything in—every thought, every feeling, every wish, every dream. but, the walls you've kept up for so long start to break and something is forced to give. unable to will your mouth shut any longer, words spill out before you can shove them back down. "you're gorgeous—i mean, it's gorgeous! the picture, that is. i really love you—no, wait. i really love the way you look in the photo ... the sun was really pretty, the sky was perfect, everything was—"

jungwon's laughter stuns you to silence; he clutches his belly while doubling over at your jumbled mess of a confession. his eyes are closed, and you're almost positive his voice will be hoarse tomorrow with the volume at which he's expressing his amusement. the blue flame has been reduced to embers, but another influx of agony washes over you, cutting deeper than before.

"jungwon ..." you say, voice thick with impending tears, "this isn't f—"

a soft hand is pressed to your cheek. the gesture is tender and loving, conveying more than words ever could. his expression is firm, and all traces of humor have dissipated in an attempt to communicate his true feelings with you. "i love you, too," jungwon replies, rubbing his thumb over the apex of your cheekbone. "i love you, too."

"you do?" you ask, fear prickling like thousands of tiny needles under your skin.

"of course, i do." his answer makes everything seem so simple.

"no—but, i'm saying that i love you, love you. i love you in the sense that i want to spend every waking minute next to you, but i don't want to fuck anything up or make anything weird. i love you so much that my future plans always include you—no matter the way, shape, or form. the house i want to live in always has a room for you—i always have room for you." raw emotion overtakes the usual tone of your voice as the reality of this beachside argument about love and clarity and blurred lines sets in. you want him to understand. you need him to understand.

jungwon pauses for a moment. he takes a step closer to your body; the sweet aromas of blood oranges and limes permeate the air shared between the two of you while hints of vanilla and spice mingle with the citrus. never in the eight years that you've known him has jungwon ever been this forward, but as he gazes at you with two umber oceans—you can't bring yourself to care. "i get it. i swear i get [y/n]—and, i'm saying that i love you, love you, too," he giggles, diffusing the tension in the blink of an eye. "i think i always have, [y/n], but deep down, i'm still just that little fifth grade scaredy cat.

our friendship is one of the most important things in the world to me. i honestly think losing you would kill me. and, i know, i'm not the greatest with words if i'm not reading them from a script. i'm nothing special. i'm not good at things right away like heeseung, and i'm not a romantic like jay or jake. i don't have sunghoon's allure or sunoo's charm or riki's magnetism. i'm just me—good enough to be your friend, but not good enough be anything more."

the anger and hurt have been washed away by the soothing rays of jungwon's light, and you speak softly, "isn't that for me to decide?"

he reluctantly agrees, shuffling his feet as though he wants to pull away. rocks clack against one another, and the cacophony of noise foretells a future in which you let him walk away. so, your body moves on its own, and your hand shoots out to grab jungwon's wrist. surprise is evident in his stare as his eyes flick between your face and where the two of you are connected. with a newfound sense of courage, you pull him infinitely closer to you while relishing in the way his frame seems to fit perfectly against yours.

"you're good enough for me, yang jungwon," you declare. "you've always been good enough for me, and you always will be."

as high tide begins to roll in with the moon, a gentle quietude falls upon the beach. the polaroid photo has long since been forgotten, lost to the rocky shore and the sands of time. the sun has disappeared and her palette of colors has faded along with her, but you are still warm. jungwon cards his fingers through your hair while you find solace in the constant beat of his heart; fire still licks at your skin, cinders still smolder in the pit of your stomach, but there is no room for pain in his arms.

jungwon is your sun, and this time—you let yourself burn.

[half-bakedboy]

Tommy Taking care of Buck when sick or injured

Evan has a cold but if anyone could see him right now, Tommy believes they’d think he had the bubonic plague. 

“You know, for someone who has been crushed by a firetruck, made it through a tsunami, and got struck by lightning, you sure are reacting to a stuffy nose like it’s the end of the world.”

Evan smacks him, but he laughs despite it.

“I am suffering, Tommy. Christopher’s a teenager now, he’s not supposed to bring home germs like a toddler. Isn’t that how it works?” Evan complains. 

“I’m pretty sure schools are just cesspools no matter what age.” 

Tommy strokes a hand over Evan’s forehead to check his temperature as he’s done a few times over the past hour. He’s not too hot, but clammy, most likely from the weighted blanket he has pulled up to his neck. He’s tried to convince Evan to use something lighter, but it’s not an argument he’s going to win. 

“What can I get you?” Tommy asks softly. He presses a gentle kiss on Evan’s forehead, lingering for a moment when Evan leans into the gesture. 

It might actually be killing Tommy not to kiss him. 

“Do I have any SpaghettiOs? Maddie used to stock my kitchen up with them before she moved in with Chimney.” He pouts as he speaks, and Tommy feels like he’s going to lose it. 

He stands up abruptly and wanders to the kitchen, searching through every cabinet for the one thing Evan wants. He’s grateful when he finds a top shelf full of soup and a small note from Maddie telling him to feel better. It isn’t dated, but something tells Tommy that it’s been there for a while. It makes him smile, knowing that he’s always been cared for and that Chimney is being cared for by her now. 

He grabs the can of SpaghettiOs and tries to decide if Evan would rather have them on the stove or the microwave—the one other time Tommy tried to make something on the stove that was microwavable led to the great hot dog debate that pulled in the entire 118, so he goes with the microwave. By the time three minutes have passed, he can hear Evan snoring loudly on the couch. 

Evan is a sight to behold. He’s sprawled out on the couch that is just a little too short for his long frame, mouth wide open, nose reddened from tissue rash, and the blanket he’d fought Tommy to keep thrown to the floor. It’s quite possibly the most adorable scene he’s ever witnessed, and he’s done helicopter tours for kids. 

Without hesitation, Tommy pulls the much lighter blanket off of the back of the couch and rests it over Evan's frame so he has something to keep him comfortable. He picks up Evan’s legs carefully and reaches for the remote to change the TV over to some soft indie music channel Evan seems to enjoy when he’s relaxing. 

The book he’s been reading is just within reach, and he settles back into the couch to read. Evan’s snoring is loud and he’s seriously at risk of catching whatever Christopher had given Evan, but he can’t bring himself to leave. He’s going to be there when Evan wakes up. Even if he’s being overdramatic about his cold, Tommy knows there’s something inside Evan that needs taking care of, and he’s going to be the man to do that.

[kehlanifenty]

[buckychristwrites]

When the Rain Gathers | Chapter One | j.t

↳  Pairing: Jamie Tartt x f!reader

↳ Word Count: 3.8k

↳  Summary: Pain hits like a downpour, but when a heartbreak from your past is what greets you at your new job at Nelson Road Stadium, it's more like a catastrophic tsunami.

↳  Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Discussion of parental abuse, fluff and angst.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Main Blog

“This is stunning.”

Your folded hands tightened.

Rebecca Welton looked between your resume to Sharon Fieldstone, who was sitting beside her. They were both beaming as you continued to sit nervously. Although, that was to be expected with you. They could’ve told you that you were sent by God himself and you would still be rifled with anxiety. 

“And how exactly did you get a recommendation from Ted Lasso?” She asked in awe while reading the letter from the man himself. You shifted in your seat.

“I did some work with the Wichita State Shockers after I finished my degree,” You explained. “During Ted’s time there, of course. He was the one who sent this job my way, actually. Said I’d fit in nicely.” She read the letter over and over again, a fond look on her face. 

“Any person who Ted trusts is someone I trust.” Was she getting choked up? You tried to ignore that in an effort to not embarrass her. Sharon nodded.

“I think you’re the perfect match to work with me,” The psychologist said definitively. “Now that we have the women’s team as well as the men’s, I can’t do it all on my own.” Rebecca nodded in agreement. 

“You’ll take over the care for the men’s team while Sharon helps the women’s team adjust.”

You allowed yourself to take a glance around Rebecca’s office, appreciating the simplicity. The weight on your chest seemed to lift, now that you knew the job was basically yours. All morning you had been stressing over this interview. Even going as far as to sit in the car park for a whole 45 minutes beforehand so you wouldn’t be late. 

“When do you think you could start?” It was clear that Rebecca was trying oh so hard to not sound eager, while also failing miserably at it. Funnily enough, you were doing the same. Your first answer would be that very minute, but you reeled yourself back. 

“As soon as possible.” 

You didn’t think it was feasible for them to look more elated, but you were proven wrong at that moment, as their faces seemed to radiate joy. Rebecca clapped her hands together before rising from her seat. 

“Wonderful,” She said. “I hope tomorrow will work for you, then?”

It stunned you briefly, how quick the start date was coming. You had assumed it wouldn’t be for another week. But you were more relieved than distressed by the speed this was all going. Since the move just a week prior, you were desperate for income. 

“Perfect,” You said as you also rose from your seat. Sharon swiftly followed, the three of you exchanging such pleased looks. It was overwhelming how well this interview went. It wasn’t really an interview, though. The impression you had been given when the conversation started was that you’d had the job the moment you walked in the door. Though, funnily enough, they had been trying very hard to not let you in on that.

“Shall I give you a tour of the club?” Rebecca suggested. You nodded excitedly.

“That would be wonderful.”

Sharon began to inch towards the door. 

“I have some appointments to get to, I’m afraid,” She said as she glanced at her watch. “But I’ll be ready for you in the morning to help you with getting acclimated.” She gave you a warm smile, which you couldn’t help but return. “I’m so glad to have you.” 

“Wonderful to meet you, Dr. Fieldstone,” You said, raising a hand in goodbye. “I’ll see you in the morning!” She gave one last look of what appeared to be relief before turning and leaving Rebecca’s office. You turned towards your new boss, the anxiety creeping in again. 

You glanced out the window at the team, who were currently training on the pitch. The drills they were running looked intense, more intense than anything you had ever seen before. Which, considering you had seen and had even been involved in a great many football trainings, you were more qualified than most to say that. 

Subtle rain droplets hit the window, catching your attention for too long before you refocused on the players.

A flash of one player as he spun around his teammates with the ball gave you deja vu, and you had to turn away before it began to fester in your head.

“Shall we?” Rebecca asked, gesturing towards the door. You nodded, following her out into the hallway and down the stairs. 

The club was a lot larger than the outside suggested. Rebecca showed you the press room, conference room, all of the bathrooms, and where Sharon’s office was located, though the door was shut at the time. Pictures 

“How was the flight… home?” She asked in a more questioning tone than anticipated. “This is home for you, yes? Your accent is certainly… unique.” You pressed your lips together. This was quite a popular question from both the English and the Americans alike. 

“Yes and no,” You explained. “I’m actually from Manchester. But I moved to the United States for school about…” You did the maths in your head. “About six years ago, I guess.” Saying it out loud felt so strange. Some days, it felt like just yesterday that you had gotten on the plane that swept you away from England. Others, it felt like a lifetime ago. Which, with the changes that had occurred in your life, it might as well have been. 

“The Americans got to you then,” She teased, tapping her hand against your arm as if you had known her forever. 

“That’s exactly what my mum says when she hears me speak anymore,” You admitted sheepishly. Remembering her original question, you turned to face her. “My flight was a nightmare, by the way.” She looked at you in shock. “Yeah, my daughter had an ear infection the day of, naturally. So when we took off and the pressure built in her ears, she just cried and cried for a solid hour until she fell asleep.” 

“You have a daughter,” Rebecca said, poking her bottom lip out just slightly. Subconsciously, you pulled out your phone. 

“Yes. Ivy,” You told her before lifting your phone screen to show off your brunette baby. “She just turned two at the end of May.” 

Rebecca took your phone to gaze at the toddler. At first, you thought it was because she was in silent agreement that the child was the cutest thing to ever cross the Earth. But then you saw the crinkle form between her eyebrows as she brought the phone closer to her face.

“She-” Her head tilted to the side, her lips pressed tightly together. “She looks so much like-”

“Rebecca, hi!”

The both of you turned to find a small blonde woman bouncing towards you. She was wearing a neon purple top, with black skinny jeans and heels higher than your ankles could handle. As Rebecca’s face changed from confusion to delight, you slipped your phone from her hand and back into your pocket. 

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Keely?” She asked, turning her hands towards you. “I’m sure you know, this is the new sports psychologist that we’ve hired to help Sharon.” Reaching a hand out, you introduced yourself to Keeley. In lieu of a handshake, she pulled you in for a hug.

“Keeley Jones, at your service!” Her hug made you feel warm. It had been a while since you’d had one so loving, and from a stranger at that. It was surprisingly nice. When she released you, she went to give the same to Rebecca. “I came to see Roy. The boys’re coming in from training now, if you’d like to go down and introduce her to the team?” As Rebecca pulled away, she looked at you with excitement in her face.

“Would you like to meet the team?”

You could practically feel the rise in your blood pressure, the anxiety pouring out of your ears. But you knew if you didn’t meet them today, you’d have to tomorrow, and your first day would go much easier if the most stressful part happened sooner rather than later.

“Of course!” 

With wide smiles and rosie cheeks, Rebecca and Keeley whirled around and led you down the hallway, arms linked together. Watching them was incredibly lovely, and made you yearn for a friendship like that.

“Before you interrupted, Keeley,” Rebecca said playfully, earning a glare from her long haired friend. “She was just showing me a picture of her lovely daughter.” Keeley’s head whipped in your direction. 

“You have a daughter? How old is she?” She asked eagerly. You grabbed at your phone again.

“She’s two,” You said proudly as you showed her the same picture you showed Rebecca. Her face went from joyful to dazed, her grabbing at your phone and looking down at it. 

“Do you have any other pictures?” She asked with a less hearty smile this time. The ease in your chest began to falter. Trying hard not to feel offended, you opened your albums and pulled up another photo. In this one, it was a better look of Ivy’s face, and not her just making goofy looks for the camera, like your lock screen photo showed. Grabbing the phone back, Keeley and Rebecca examined it as they continued to walk. They were so distracted that you were surprised they didn’t hit a wall when they rounded a corner.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Rebecca asked Keeley in a low voice.

“That she looks exactly like-”

You had seen the impending collision that was about to occur, like it was written in the stars, but you were too late in your efforts to warn them, for both Rebecca and Keeley ran into the door of the changing room that had just been opened by one of the coaches. 

“Oh fuck,” A small man with gray hair and a kind looking face muttered as the women hit the floor. Your phone was quick to skid across the floor. The man scrambled to help Rebecca to her feet, as you did the same for Keeley. 

“I’m so sorry, so so sorry, Keeley, R-Rebecca,” The man stammered, shaking his head. “I didn’t see you there.” Rebecca brushed herself off, straightening her skirt.

“Not a problem, Nate,” She said, although her face was still rather filled with embarrassment.

“Quite alright, Coach,” Keeley said, her bubbly tone not faltering for a second. Once you were sure the two of them were fine, you walked over and grabbed your phone. When you turned to face them again, your phone safely replaced in your pocket, you found his anxious eyes on you.

“This is Nate Shelley,” Rebecca said once she composed herself. “He is part of the coaching staff for the men’s league.” As you reached a hand out towards him, she introduced you to him. He looked at your hand in confusion before taking it.

Someone struggles with trusting people, you noted to yourself when your hand dropped from his. 

Nate reopened the door to the changing room and kept his head down as Rebecca, Keeley, and yourself respectively made your way inside. When the door shut from behind, you noticed that Nate had not entered the changing room along with you. 

“Is everyone decent?” Keeley asked with a hand disjointedly over her eyes. Everyone turned their attention towards her, amused smiles on their faces. From what you could tell, everyone was, in fact, decent. When Keeley dropped her hand down once more, she let out a pout. “C’mon lads, just one time!” They all laughed in a way that suggested this was a running joke, but they all somehow still found it funny each time. Rebecca took a few steps forward to give herself centre stage. Your heart clenched.

“I’d like to introduce you all to the new sports psychologist as Sharon transitions over to the women’s league.” She gestured towards you. “She will be taking over all of your care.”

As she told them your name, you watched the range of emotions that flooded all of their faces. 

“Sharon won’t be working with us anymore?”

“This is a betrayal!” 

“Why do the women get our Sharon and we have to have someone new? Send her to them for fuck’s sake!” 

Any excitement that you had left evaporated as you listened to their complaints and shouts. While you never expected the transition to be easy, you didn’t expect it to be completely rejected, either.

“Aye!” A bearded ginger with a baseball cap shouted over the noise.

“Gentlemen!” Rebecca yelled, her voice a mix of anger and surprise. “This is not how we welcome someone to our family, is it?” 

Some of them grumbled a response, while most of them just stared down at their shoes. A couple of them were eyeing you curiously. You folded your hands patiently in front of your abdomen. Rebecca sighed heavily.

“Where the fuck is Kent?” She asked the bearded coach, voice exasperated. “He should be controlling his team.”

“Running drills with Jamie,” He said simply. You felt a wave crash in your chest as he turned to face you. “Coach Beard, by the way.” He stuck his hand out towards you, and it took you a beat too long to compose yourself enough to take it.

“Nice to meet you,” You said, voice unsure. A nervous glance was tossed towards the distraught players again before you turned to him once more. “Did you say… Did you say Jamie?” His eyebrows knitted together, as if you had just asked him if he was able to poop on command. 

“As in Jamie-”

The door to the pitch burst open, handle knocking against the wall. In came a tall figure with dark hair and even darker and thicker eyebrows. He paused just beyond the threshold, his eyes scanning the room. You studied him instinctively. The way the room stopped just upon his entrance told you that he was an important figurehead.

“It’s about time,” Rebecca scolded, hands planted on her hips. “Where have you been?”

“Sorry,” The man said, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence, before directing his thumb behind him. “This one wanted to run a couple more drills.”

The one he was referring to entered at that moment, as if on cue. As if it were rehearsed. 

Your heart stopped functioning altogether.

He was a new man entirely, with long hair that parted like curtains off his forehead and locks coloured a light brown, almost dark blonde. His jawline was more chiselled than you remembered it, arms and abdomen more defined as his shirt hugged his muscles dearly. Taking a glance around at the commotion, it took him a moment to meet your eyes. But the moment he did, his skin blanched. 

You’d know those eyes anywhere. The greenish-blues you had looked into a thousand times in your life. Soft, gentle, almost innocent in appearance. It felt like they were the only thing about him that hadn’t changed completely.

It’s him. Jamie Tartt.

Your Jamie.

Fuck, you thought to yourself.

Fuck, Jamie thought to himself.

It’s you.

His you.

It felt like he was repeatedly getting hit by a train. Over and over and over again. One right after the other.

His mind suddenly forgot how to think. For the first time in his entire life, it was completely silent. All he could focus on was your face. How different you looked and yet somehow you were exactly the same. The hair he had run his fingers through time and time again was longer than he could recall. Your face had somehow matured in the three years it had been since he had seen you.

Fuck, has it already been three years? He found himself thinking. Because even after all this time, it felt like a victory that he had gone ten days without thinking of you. Now, it seemed, those streaks would be long over.

Rebecca took you around the room to give every player an individual introduction. Though you tried to pay attention, Jamie continued to catch you looking over at him, as he couldn’t stop looking at you. He found your expression unreadable. Since when could he not read your mind by just looking at your face?

Oh yeah, since he didn’t really know you anymore.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Roy said in a low voice. Jamie hadn’t realised that his friend had even leaned in, the sound of his voice causing him to jump.

“The fuck you mean?” 

“You look like a fuckin’ deer in headlights.”

He didn’t have a proper response, so he said nothing. The feeling of Roy’s eyes burning holes in the side of his head were nothing compared to the discomfort he felt from just entering the changing room. The air around him began to suffocate him. You were the only presence he could feel. It had always been like that, when it came down to you, but not like this. Never like this.

“This is Roy Kent, the head manager of the club,” Rebecca continued on with the introductions. Roy grunted in your direction, but a daggered glare from the owner forced him to raise a hand for a shake. You were stiff as a board as you took it.

“And last, but certainly not least, we have Jamie Tartt here.”

And then you were in front of him, wide eyes boring into his face. A whiff of your perfume hit his nostrils. The same perfume you had been wearing since he had gifted you that same bottle for your seventeenth birthday. Now it was a lethal gas, asphyxiating him. Hands shaking at his sides, he stuffed them in the front pocket of his jacket. From his periphery, he could see Rebecca just as angry at him for not going to shake your hand or properly greet you, but unlike Roy, he stood his ground.

After a moment, you cleared your throat.

“Actually,” You said with a shaky breath that Jamie did not miss. “We’ve met before.” 

His lungs ceased to function as his entire body ran cold. 

“We went to school together.” 

It was such a simplification of it all. Twenty three years of knowing someone condensed into five simple words. It felt like a million swords flying through his body.

“How nice!” Rebecca said, her voice high. “Isn’t it lovely to be greeted by a familiar face?” She looked between the two of you expectantly.

You stared at him, your expression neutral.

“Yeah,” You said ominously. “Familiar.” 

That was when he saw it. The fire behind your eyes. Oh, how many times he had seen that anger, but rarely towards him. When the two of you began to really fight, it was almost entirely over the phone, which meant he didn’t have to see it. Which was exactly how he wanted it. Having to see those eyes with so much hatred in them would’ve made him quickly fold. Just like he wanted to right at this moment.

Rebecca pulled you away, saying something about seeing your new office. Jamie’s heart went cold when the warmth of your stare left him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your receding back, and even when you disappeared behind the door, his gaze was still glued to that direction, as if you would reappear any second.

“Jamie, please tell me you hit that,” Jan Maas said as he also continued to stare at the door you disappeared through.

“Fuck off, Jan Maas,” He grumbled as he turned to walk towards the boot room. The room began to spin around him, his steps becoming clumsier.

The air in the boot room was fresh despite the reeking boots and unlaundered kits. It was untouched by your scent, which was what he needed. Jamie fell into the shelves, his hands supporting him from hitting the floor.

“Will, mate,” He said through shallow breaths. “I need ya to leave. Please. Go out there and make sure no one comes in, yeah?” Though he wasn’t looking at the kit man, he saw the movement out of the corner of his eyes.

“Y-yes, of course.” 

The second the door closed was the same second that Jamie lost control of his breathing. They became quick and rapid as his knuckles whitened against the wooden shelves. His head slowly grew light, his fingers tingly. 

It had been a while since he’d had one this bad. His mind went from being completely empty to running at a speed he couldn’t possibly comprehend. The room was silent, and yet so incomprehensibly loud. He squeezed his eyes shut. Nausea flooded his stomach and sent chills up his spine.

A voice filled his head.

Breath, my love. You need to breathe.

He inhaled in as best as he could, for as long as he could. As he held his breath, he counted to four in his head. Just as you had taught him. 

Fuck.

The thought of you made him once again lose his composure, and then the panic began once again. 

“FUCK.”

He began to throw boots off the shelves in frustration.

The guilt was filling his lungs, drowning him. Every single emotion he had felt over the years was coming back in full force, hitting him all at once. He didn’t know how to control it, so instead he let it out. The victims being the boots that Will had kept so clean and tidy.

Ground yourself. What can you see? What can you feel?

He forced another deep breath.

“The bench,” He mumbled to himself, looking down at the metal bench he was standing over. “Shelves…b-boots… kits… the wall…” He put a shaky hand on the shelf. “I can feel.. the wood…” Pulling away, he put it to his chest. “Me heart beat… and me shirt.” Then, he sat down, burying his face in his hands. “Me face.”

He could breathe again. 

Even when you were ripping his mind to shreds, you were also somehow putting him back together again.

The door slowly creaked open, but Jamie didn’t move a centimetre. Quiet footsteps made their way over to him.

“What happened?” Sam’s voice asked. Though he pulled his hands away from his face, he didn’t look up at his friend, instead opting to stare at his socked feet. There was another pair next to them, the hairy legs letting him know that Roy was also in the room.

“It’s a long story,” Jamie said, wiping his eyes. He didn’t realise that he had been crying until that moment. “But it starts and ends with one thing.” Bringing a hand away from his face, he stabbed his index finger against his chest. “Me being a proper fuck up.”

~

TAGS

@oncasette, @shiptheship, @ajkdjdnkekemfxj, @breepboopbap, @sssatorus, @jelleeyfish, @puckyou-forpuckssake, @ricciardhoe3, @buckybarnex, @loveslide, @hopefulromances, @sokkigarden, @optimisticsandwichgladiator, @hanybunch

[ekman]

Environ 18 heures après la diffusion de l’interview de Vladimir Poutine par Tucker Carlson, Twitter annonçait autour de 125 millions de vues. Je ne sais pas si ce missile-là est supersonique, ou s’il s’est déguisé en torpille au plasma, mais autant vous dire que c’est un brin la panique dans l’Occident collectif – pour ne pas dire “collecteur”. On m’a montré les réactions sur LCI (ou était-ce BFM ?) de chroniqueurs confus, d’experts délirants et de traine-sabres hystériques n’hésitant pas à se noyer dans leur logique de loser intégral : Poutine ment, alors mentons plus que lui encore. Fascinant ! Plus loin, c’est le chargé de communication du “National Security Council” des États-Unis, l’amiral John Kirby, qui ne parvient pas à dissimuler son agacement et son désarroi face au tsunami d’audience réalisé par cette longue séquence. “Les Américains savent qui est Poutine et ce qu’il a fait.” Oui, bien sûr John. Ils savent aussi que quelques heures plus tôt, Joe “Alzy” Biden affirmait que tout allait bien dedans sa boule d’escalier – deux jours après s’être entretenu avec Mitterrand. Les États-Unis fabriquent des mensonges comme ils impriment des dollars. C’est à dire sans vouloir comprendre qu’ils sont dans une fuite en avant qui un jour va cesser, Brics obligent. L’empire de la freedomerie s’écroule à son tour, emporté par cette méchante fièvre apparue un soir de novembre 1989. La liberté tue l’espérance et seuls ceux qui doivent lutter pour elle ont l’énergie pour se tenir debout. Je sais, c’est un poil sisyphien, mais c’est ce que j’ai observé tout au long des cinquante dernières années. Les combattants marxistes d’hier sont devenus des entrepreneurs libéraux et les porteurs de sacs de riz face caméra sont devenus des porteurs de parts anonymes. Mozambique et Amazon réunis dans la même équation fatale. Vladimir sourit. Il s’amuse à dérouler sa démonstration sans appel. Il aime bien Carlson, ça se voit, même s’il le rattache fatalement à cette nation de clowns psychopathes que sont devenus les États-Unis. Enfin “Unis”... pour quelques temps encore.

J.-M. M.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Autumn 2023 Rumor Round-Up

Rumors and theories resolved October - December 2023

Confirmed

Sussexes want an invite to Royal Christmas 2023. (tons of PR from Meghan and Harry about it)

Charles to make a decision about the Sussex children's titles after Spare is published. (He took no action, which is a kind of decision...)

Harry's book finishes him with UK aristocracy and the BRF. (No invite to Charles's 75th birthday party, no invite to the Grosvenor wedding, excluded from the Sandhurst book, etc.)

Sussexes to get the Edward/Wallis treatment following Spare - e.g., only Harry is invited back, weddings and funerals only, no private or personal relationships. (Only Harry appears to be invited back and talks are happening through staff.)

Harry's book to be a financial disaster and incur very little, if any, profit. (Year-end publications from the industry revealed that Harry hadn't made back his advance and sales really struggled.)

Meghan wasn't invited to the coronation. (Markus papwalk)

Kate had two gowns for the coronation. (While it hasn't been officially confirmed by sources, the embroidery on her dress in the portraits is different from the embroidery on her dress worn to the service.)

Meghan crashed the US special forces ribbon-cutting event; only Harry had been invited to attend. ("behind the scenes" story from one of the organizers)

The Sussexes were not invited to Charles's birthday party. (didn't attend)

The Sussexes aren't invited to the Grosvenor wedding. (They told on themselves, clapping back with several "we're invited but we declined" stories.)

Busted

Spare's audiobook to be nominated for a Grammy 2023. (didn't happen)

Waleses Christmas 2023 photo is taken by Millie Wilkington. (didn't happen - she did a photoshoot in the spring of the family)

Fourth Wales baby to be announced via the 2023 Christmas card. (didn't happen)

William and Kate to have a fourth child, a girl, in 2023. (didn't happen)

Harry and Meghan separated, will divorce in 2023. (didn't happen)

Kate pregnant with twins, due in October 2023. (didn't happen)

Prominent UK families, such as the Churchills, will sue Harry over stories in his book. (didn't happen)

Meghan will hit rock bottom in 2023. (didn't happen; she's fallen down a few rungs - back to merching and pap walks - but she hasn't hit rock bottom yet.)

Sussex divorce after Harry's book tour obligations end in February 2023. (didn't happen)

Sussexes to divorce in November 2023. (didn't happen)

Meghan to leave Harry if he goes to the coronation without her and the children. (didn't happen)

Meghan is beginning her divorce PR with the Markus papwalk on coronation weekend. (didn't happen)

Sussex divorce announcement timed for Earthshot 2023. (didn't happen)

Sussexes to divorce in 2023 and at the same time, the press superembargo on the children's births will be lifted. (didn't happen)

Harry to return to the royal fold for Christmas 2023 and he'll bring the children with him on the Christmas Walk to insulate from boos and cricitism. (didn't happen)

Sussexes to make a public statement in the summer or early autumn about their children. (didn't happen)

Waleses to face a press tsunami in autumn 2023. (They did get some criticism in the autumn, but nothing I would consider a "press tsunami." For reference, a "press tsunami" is an overwhelming critical coverage like the kind the Sussexes faced when they were in Australia. The Waleses haven't seen anything like that.)

Sussexes to attend Charles's 75th birthday party or other events. (didn't happen)

Meghan to re-launch The Tig in November along with Endgame. (didn't happen)

Sussexes to attend Royal Christmas 2023. (didn't happen)

Only Harry is invited to/will attend Charles's 75th birthday. (didn't happen)

The Sussexes will appear in the documentary made for Charles's birthday. (didn't happen; this rumor came from when we knew Charles was having cameras follow him, but before we knew it was about the coronation prep.)

Charles's family order to be debuted in the 2023 Christmas Speech. (didn't happen)

Sussex Christmas Card to be released at a time it takes attention away from Kate and/or the Waleses. (didn't happen - the Sussexes' card was released on Dec 15th.)

The 2023 Sussex Christmas Card to feature a previously-unreleased photograph of the children with Her Late Majesty. (didn't happen)

Charles or William to be named in the Epstein papers. (didn't happen)

Meghan to attend the Golden Globes 2023 as part of the Suits reunion. (didn't happen)

Plausible

The Netflix docuseries was meant to include the Sussexes' charity work but the idea was scrapped after backlash in real-time. (The Archewell "impact video" published in December 2023 of work they claimed was done in 2023 includes footage from appearances made in 2022 that were confirmed to have Netflix cameras present.)

The Sussexes have been banned from the Carlyle Hotel for their past behavior. (They haven't stayed at The Carlyle since September 2021 - the Mandela Day/UN appearance - despite having gone back to NYC at least 3 times since.)

The Sussexes plan to use Endgame's criticism of the BRF to bury the "Harry's Nazi uniform" storyline on The Crown. (There was an awful lot of Endgame stories published that weekend, but it could be a coincidence.)

Partially Confirmed

William to attend the December 2023 Sandhurst passing out ceremony. (He did attend a passing out ceremony in December, but it was for the naval academy, not Sandhurst.)

Kate excluded from Charles's documentary to avoid upsetting Meghan and Harry, the same way she was excluded from The Queen's documentaries. (Kate didn't give a "talking head" to the documentary, but then again, most of the royals didn't - only Anne gave an interview.)

Scobie's "Endgame" will pick up where Spare left off, and the Sussexes will have an overt influence on the material so they can have new material with which to attack the BRF. ("Endgame" didn't pick up where Spare left off, but we can tell the content was influenced by the Sussexes and the Sussexes did intend to attack the BRF with the new information.)

[spotsandsocks]

✨Inspiration Saturday ✨

Tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @daffi-990 @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz

So i decided to add in a bit of cannon to shifter fic and chapt 1/2 are now going to be a whirlwind tour of our beloveds season 2/3 traumas and “moments” - I forgot to add tsunami to the mood board but it’s gonna be there too - so have a line from that bit.

He tries but behind his stumbling explanation and excuses that mean nothing his wolf is angry and confused. It’s fighting him to get out and act where he’s failed them all. It wants to run and search more, howl out their loss to the world, rage and fight against the truth. It wants to keep looking until he has Chris back.

and I’ve spent most of today expanding on this part

Buck’s looming and ok so he’s tall and strong Eddie knows that already and he has big arms, bigger thighs. Eddie pulls his mind back from thoughts of Buck’s thighs. That might be true but Eddie’s still stronger than a human and he’s faster too, he’d have Buck pinned against the floor in no time. Or maybe a wall or…. fuck, what’s wrong with him. The images that accompany those thoughts do nothing to cool him down.

If you see this you’re tagged to share if you want and have something to share - im too tired to do all my tagging list but tagging a few i can remember being enthusiastic shifter fic fans- @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @wikiangela @pirrusstuff