#seems like only people in the uk can watch it if they share something on youtube i will share it

[keane-updates]

Link to watch [17.05.24].

#keane #hopes and fears #bbc #the one show #twitter mention #keane band #keane 20 #seems like only people in the uk can watch it if they share something on youtube i will share it

[mistydeyes]

miss americana: ghost edition

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

series summary: The 141 has varying thoughts about Americans which range from finding them wildly entertaining to thinking they’re the worst people on earth. However you challenge their perspectives when you meet them. Something about you makes them feel a little more patriotic ;)

read gaz's edition here!

summary: Living in the UK has been quite a transition for you and there's a few things Simon doesn't mind pointing out (or making fun of you for)

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x American!reader

warnings: swearing

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

the way you make tea is CRIMINAL to him.

“What are you doing?” Simon asked, startling you and causing you to lightly tip over your mug of lukewarm water. “Jesus, Simon,” you gasped, “I’m making some tea.” He did a double take as he examined the mug in your hand and the partially opened microwave.“You have the microwave open?” “Yeah to heat the water,” you responded as if he was asking a rudimentary question. At that moment, Simon could’ve had a heart attack. He quickly went over to you and dumped the water into a stovetop kettle. You crossed your arms over your chest, wondering what had gotten into your boyfriend. To your curiosity, you watched as he heated it until the kettle whistled. He poured it gently into your mug and placed a tea bag in it. “Here,” he said as he handed it to you, “that’s how you make tea.” “I don’t see the difference,” you mumbled before gingerly sipping on your tea and giving him a quick kiss.

He entertains the amazement you have when you see something that you swore was only distinctly “American.”

“You have hot dogs here?” you practically shouted seeing a stand with your favorite mystery meat. He looked at you bewildered as you stopped to stare at the stand. It was autumn and the leaves colorful leaves lay perfectly around the stand. "It's beautiful," you whispered as the sunset illuminated the bright red hotdog meat on the plastic sign. "It's a hot dog stand." Simon replied flatly, "You make it seem like it's the second coming or something." You shot a look back at him as your stomach slightly grumbled. Before you could say anything, Simon pulled you along with your hand firmly placed in his. "We're having dinner at Price's," he reminded as you pouted at his brisk pace. "But Simon," you began to plead before he cut you off. "It's the same thing you get back into America," he informed and you nodded at the commonality of the stand, "probably a little better though."

When you’re in public, he’ll be sure to let you know if you’re talking too loud.

"AND THEN" you practically yelled as you walked around the grocer's. Simon gave a death glare to the stares that met your loud mouth. "Mind just lowering your voice a little, love?" he asked politely as he continued to push the cart down the aisles. "Sorry," you sheepishly replied, "just used to everyone being deaf back at home." You sighed, missing the loud, noisy streets of your hometown and the boisterous laughter and comments from your friends. You just naturally spoke in a louder tone to compensate for it. "It's alright," he comforted, "people here can barely speak over a whisper." You shared a laugh as you continued your conversation without care. You could feel your homesickness temporarily wash away in the moment. It also helped that Simon met any judgmental eyes with a look of absolute menace. 

You initially thought him not smiling was only a characteristic distinct to him but you soon caught on to the British way of melancholy or blank stares.

"Why does everyone look so sad here?" you whispered to him as you sat on the tube. After a casual dinner, you looked around to see the other passengers silently looking at their phones or out the window. "It's like everyone has a perpetual frown on their face," you continued as you looked up at him. "Just the way people are," he replied in an attempt to answer your question, "you all are so smiley in the US." You looked at him shocked and put a dramatic hand to your heart. "Not my fault we're just so friendly," you mumbled as he pulled you back into his side. You continued to sit in silence as the train car screeched along the tracks and the train car began to empty. With a handful of stops left, you felt the need to continue the conversation. "You know, I thought it was just you, but I guess it's just a UK thing," you joked before returning to look back at your phone. As you sat there in silence, Simon couldn't help but love the little things you said that always kept him wondering.

Simon will never understand the beauty that is a bacon, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel from a New York bodega after a night of drinking.

"Good morning," Simon smiled, slightly more chipper than usual. You looked back at him as he tussled his messy bedhead. You had gone out for a rare night of drinking with his team and it was clear that someone was feeling a little hungover at the moment. "What are you making?" he asked as he poured you both a cold glass of water. You smiled as you turned around with your masterpiece on a plate. "I made something special," you giddily answered as you pushed it towards him, "this is a New York specialty." As he placed the sandwich in his mouth, you continued. "Here we have expertly prepared strips of bacon, two eggs, and sliced, American cheese of the finest quality. Everything has been cooked to optimal temperature to burst in your mouth and it all lies on a bed of a perfectly toasted, everything bagel," you presented as you smelt the delicacy of your creation in the air. "It's a sandwich," he replied as he swallowed and you rolled your eyes. "It's not just any sandwich, Simon," you corrected, "it is essential to the morning after drinking." He nodded unimpressed as he continued to munch on his breakfast sandwich. "If you don't want it though, I can always take it," you began to say but you were met with his hands snatching it off the plate. "Mhmm that's what I thought big man." 

Despite always correcting you, he smiles a bit at your little phrases and terms.

On a slow morning, you walked over to the couch and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Got any plans today?” you asked and he let out a small grunt in response. “I’m thinking we go to the movies,” you suggested. “You mean the cinema?” he cheekily asked and you rolled your eyes. “Whatever, let’s get dressed.” When you arrived, you walked with Simon and saw the growing line to enter the theater. “C’mon babe, let’s wait in line,” you said, walking towards the back and you failed to see his shit-eating grin. “It’s the queue,” he joked, clear sarcasm in his voice and you groaned at his antics. 

Finally, the last straw was when you exited the movie and you wanted to relax at home with a good glass of wine. You put up with the teller, sweets, loo, and chips but you drew the line when it came to the next term. Simon’s arm was slung on your shoulder as you discussed the film when you remembered the lack of alcohol at home. “Si, can we stop at the liquor store?” you asked, innocently and you could see a signature smirk flash across his face. “You mean the off-license?” he replied and you lost it. “Oh shut up or I won’t have my parents ship those Costco jeans you love so much!” you replied and his snarky comments silenced. You knew how much he loved those bargain pants that were surprisingly sturdy. He nodded in response before placing a kiss on your angry forehead. “You’re a shithead,” you exclaimed and before he could interject with another term, you put up your hand to silence him, “not another word, London boy.” God, how Simon wanted to correct you and say he was from Manchester.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #izzie is drawing #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #mw2 #izzie is writing

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 46)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (41) & Alexia Putellas x Character (10)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**Happy 2024!!**))

“And you just left?”

Ridley shrugged. There were sat at a café Ridley was introducing her to, waiting to order.

“It sounds like a good night…”

“It was.”

“And she forgave you?”

“She said she did.”

“And you shared dessert!” YFN’s eyes were basically hearts. “That’s adorable.”

“She can’t eat too unhealthily during season.”

“Don’t go making excuses now, Riddles, she wanted to share.”

Ridley sighed, the heat of the Spanish sun shining down onto her face. Her sunglasses could only do so much. She’d dressed for the pool they were going to be bathing around at Lucy’s place, black shorts and a loose, see-through white button up shirt with a black bikini underneath. She always took advantage of her days off by spending them in the sun or doing activities. She was much more excited to spend it with her Blue though. She looked over at her little smiling face, her dimples on show. She was also dressed for the pool and wearing quite a similar outfit, though with one of Lucy’s button ups, from the looks of it. She wasn’t quite as tanned as she’d been when they’d last seen each other in Australia, though. The UK would do that to you. She seemed much happier though. Happiness suited her. Lucy suited her.

“What’re you thinking?”

“Spain suits you.”

Her face flashed a happy surprise as her smile widened, and she pretended it didn’t. “You think?”

“Yes.”

“Lucy loves it here…” She said, looking around them at the people who were so much more placid and in less of a rush than the UK. “Reminds me of Australia.”

“Do you think she’ll stay at Barca?”

“She wants to, but her knee…she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep going.”

“You know, anyone in her position would have quit years ago already. Her work ethic is impressive.”

“I know. I find it hard to believe she wanted me of all people…I’m really proud of her.”

“Don’t discount your worth, Blue. She’s very, very lucky to have you. I guarantee you bring her a lot of love and security that she’s never had before.”

Ridley had always been honest, though she knew where it was necessary. She also was incredibly good at understanding people. Even though YFN knew this, it still didn’t stop her partially freezing at Ridley’s words. She understood them to their core, and that’s only after meeting Lucy once.

The waiter came over, then. He was cute, polite, his hair was a wavy light brown mess and he gave them both the most genuine smile as he pushed the glasses up the bridge his nose. He was exactly Ridley’s type. She leant back in her chair to get a better look at him, not worried that she was obvious about it. She could feel YFN’s eyes roll and the man’s naivety slowly being replaced by his testosterone as he realised she liked him. He blushed lightly and gave a little, nervous laugh that made her want him even more.

“Good morning, my name is Christian, what can I get for you today?” He asked, his voice so Spanish that she knew he didn’t speak English. She assumed he was new to the café as Ridley hadn’t seen him before.

“Torrijas and pan con tomate, both to share. A café cortado for me, and an apple juice for my friend, please.” Ridley replied in perfect Spanish, ordering for the two before they’d even looked at the menus. YFN didn’t mind, she was used to it, and Ridley knew exactly what she wanted anyways.

She handed the menus over with a smile she knew would catch him off guard. She could hear a little nervous breath as he took them, able to compose himself enough to nod at both before he left. She watched as he went. She was going to rock his fucking world.

“Ridley…” YFN chastised. She was the only person in the world who’d not be encouraging at something like that. She kept Ridley’s morals intact, which is one of the reasons she loved her so much. Also, hearing her actual name from her lips meant she was in trouble.

“He’s cute.” She murmured, still looking.

“Poor form.”

“I’m not in a relationship.”

“And what about the conversation we were just having?”

“Alexia and I aren’t dating.”

“But you want to be.”

“Wanting and doing are two entirely different concepts. Maybe I just want to fuck her and my brain is pretending it’s in love with her.”

“You know that’s not true. Yes, you obviously want to have sex with her. But you’ve had the opportunity, and you haven’t really… that night doesn’t count. You know she makes you feel differently. I hear the way you talk about her.”

That interested Ridley. She thought she’d done a good job of being nonchalant when speaking about the hazel-eyed footballer.

���I don’t owe her anything.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Riddles.”

Ridley hated when YFN was disappointed with her, which was a rarity. Did she owe her something, she wondered? For the feelings Alexia made her feel? For the feelings Ridley made Alexia feel? For the tension? For the unsaid acknowledgement from them both at dinner the other night that they could be something more?

Argh, emotions, her thoughts muttered. This is why she avoided them because they were always so fucking complicated. She wasn’t bad at them necessarily, she just avidly avoided them, so it was funny that the person closest to her in the world, the one sitting on the other side of the table, was the complete opposite.

“Any plans for tonight?” She asked, changing the subject.

“Lucy is organising a meet up for the Barca team to introduce me,” she said, her disappointment gone and her smile back. So she’d be with Alexia tonight. As if reading her thoughts, “I’m not sure who’s going. Lucy’s handling all of it.”

“Mmn. And this dress you need is for which event?”

“Uh…GQ Awards?”

“In London? How did you manage that?” She was surprised, and a little suspicious.

“My boss knows people.”

“Mmnhmn.” Again, the suspicion, but she didn’t push. “Date?”

“Solo.”

“To help Jordan and Leah, right?”

YFN had mentioned it was to support her ‘friends’ but hadn’t mentioned who. Though, she didn’t seem surprised that Ridley had made a correct assumption.

“Cheeky, but yes.”

“Okay, solo, representing your business, celebrity awards…obviously we need something sexy. It’s the Man of the Year awards so everybody will be dressing more masculine, even the women. Expect suits everywhere. So I’m thinking we go opposite and make you look so sexy that the men will want you on their arms.”

“I don’t want to go too crazy..”

“It’s okay, baby, I know exactly what you need.” Their drinks and food arrived then; the server just as nervous as previously. Ridley shot him another grin that had him tripping over his feet as he left. “And you said Jordan wants an outfit too?”

“Only if we find something nice. She’s been busy with training and doesn’t want to ask Leah.” She slid her phone over the table for Ridley. “This is what Leah is wearing.”

“Fuck me, she’s stunning. We can find something to match that. Jordan has a gorgeous figure. If Leah is in a dress, is Jordan happy with a suit?”

“I think she’d prefer a suit to be honest…”

“Perfect, I already have something in mind.”

“I also have her sizing-” The look Ridley shot her was almost offended. She was good at sizing. “Never mind, now what are these?”

“Apple juice for the drink. These are torrijas which are essentially a sweet cinnamon sugar French toast, but the Spanish way. They tend to get offended at that description, though. I know you like your sweet things. And this is pan con tomate which is a very popular dish in Spain where you have bread, usually ciabatta, which you brush with olive oil and toast before rubbing garlic cloves over the bread and then spreading the tomato on top. If I were to liken it to anything, it would be closest to bruschetta, just with tomato puree and it’s simpler.” She gestured to the tables around them, most of which had the same. “It’s very popular in Catalonia.”

“I feel like falling in love with Spain is inevitable at this point.”

Ridley allowed herself a chuckle. “Well, you’ll always have a home with me.” She let herself pause to see YFN’s smile. “If you’re used to naked people, that is.”

YFN groaned.

“What? You’ve seen me naked.” Ridley teased.

“You know, I think the noise would be the deal-breaker.”

She shrugged. “I soundproof. And then there’s the gags-”

Ridley was stopped by a small torrija launched in her general direction which she caught with ease and bit into as if it were meant for her.

They finished up their brunch and of course Ridley collected the server’s number before they left, much to YFN’s disapproval. Ridley made sure YFN had all of the attention and care she needed when they chose a dress. By the end of it, even she admitted it was stunning. It was a simple, charcoal grey satin dress which curved down around her body, hugging all of the right places. It was a spaghetti strap and low back to accentuate one of her best features, her back, and those dimples at the bottom. The design was so elegant and simplistic that even YFN loved it. They played around with hairstyles, Ridley eventually convincing her that a minimal boho side-braid would be the best with the dress the show off her collarbone on one side. They picked out jewellery, a simple silver necklace and a few rings along with an exquisite silver flower ear cuff. YFN had said she’d never felt so beautiful in her life. Ridley was proud of that. She loved putting confidence into others, especially YFN.

During her fittings and talks to the staff, Ridley had been doing some shopping of her own, amongst which was a suit for Jordan to wear. It was expensive, but money had never been a factor for Ridley as she purchased everything they’d chosen that day, including YFN’s items before she’d even had a chance. Ridley had YFN tell Jordan that she had a full outfit picked out for her as she drove them to lunch by the beach. A dip in the water was tempting, but they were already both hanging out for the pool at home. A lazy day, just with each other’s company.

“Do you mind if we pick up Chiquito on the way to yours?” Ridley had asked.

“He won’t fight with Narla?”

“He doesn’t fight with anyone unless it’s for my attention.”

“Okay, then.”

Chiquito was Ridley’s cat. He was a young, grey Turkish Angora that she’d rescued during her recent contract in Dubai. Due to the weather, he was a lot less furry than others of the same breed and being Ridley’s pet, he was quite used to all things outdoors including swimming. Unusual for a cat. They say pets are like their owners, and in that aspect he was, along with being the cuddliest cat on the planet according to Ridley. YFN had not met him yet, though.

They stopped by Ridley’s house, which she’d only seen in photos. It was massive. To own a house in Spain, you needed to be well off, let alone to own a house of that size. It was typical Spanish architecture, and from the state of it and the Spanish gardens, it was obvious she had people to take care of it. Inside, it was still original with a modern twist. The attention to detail was incredible, she knew Ridley must have had a lot of input into the intricacies of the place. Everything was so neat and tidy and…Ridley. Chiquito greeted them at the door, excited to meet someone new. He let YFN pick him up and cuddle him while Ridley showed her around the house. The outdoor area and pool were stunning. YFN’s jaw dropped. She knew Ridley was rich, but she had no idea how rich. She was scared to look in the garage.

“Why don’t we just swim here?” She laughed as she stared.

Ridley shrugged. “We can. Isn’t Lucy picking you up from your apartment, though?”

Your apartment, she’d said. A Ridley way of saying she approved of their relationship which was more important to her than she realised. “I can just give her this address.”

“Okay, it’s settled. We’ll stay here then.”

Two people rounded the corner then and YFN jumped.

“It’s okay,” Ridley laughed. “It’s just my housekeeper and caretaker. Blue, this is Maria and Mateo.”

She waved while Ridley introduced them to her in Spanish. They were a cute, older couple who looked happy to see someone other than one of Ridley’s casuals. Ridley asked them something in Spanish and they nodded, getting to work.

“They live in the guest house,” she said. “They look after the place 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. I’m practically just their guest who’s home on occasion.”

“They seem lovely. What did you ask them?”

“I just told them to expect more company and asked if we could have some snacks out by the pool.”

Ridley was similar to Lucy, always hungry, because she was always working out. She showed her around the entire place, multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, gym, kitchen, living areas and she even had a music room. Ridley loved her music. She’d always played when they were younger.

“Do you remember any of the guitar I taught you?” She asked.

“Some I think?”

Ridley grinned and picked up an acoustic guitar, handing it to her, before taking her favourite since high school, a cream coloured Sterling Cutlass. Ridley took a few more things including an amp out by the pool with them and set them up. YFN texted Lucy the address before they settled in for a swim and a play. Watching Chiquito get in the water and swim was one of the strangest things she’d ever seen, and it was hilarious to see him all soaked as he got out. They sun-baked for a while in their bikini’s and had a few jam sessions, the music coming back to YFN. Ridley could tell how much she’d missed it and the calm that came with it that she enjoyed. Snacks, guitars, swimming, Chiquito. It was perfect. They’d lost track of time, the sun getting lower in the sky. YFN was sprawled out on her sunbed in her bikini and open button up, eyes closed and listening to Ridley as she jammed to a song. Ridley was proud of her musical intelligence, following flows and creating her own melodies. She was sitting partially cross-legged on her sunbed, also in her bikini and button up, Bose headphones on and head moving to the sounds she was improvising. They had Spotify playing popular songs that she was improvising solos to, eyes closed and in her happy place. Chiquito was by her foot, now fluffy again with the sun drying his fur, curled up with his paw draped over her foot. He was a touchy cat.

She was in the middle of a solo to The Chain by Fleetwood Mac, one of her favourite songs, when a grape hit her head. She was undisturbed and reached for it, popping it into her mouth before another one hit her and she got the hint, her eyes opening to a sight she hadn’t expected.

Lucy was there. With Ona Batlle. And Keira Walsh. And Alexia.

Alexia would have been lying if she said she wasn’t turned on by the sight of Ridley jamming away in her bikini. YFN threw a grape at her, impacting her temple but she didn’t flinch, she stayed in her zone, even popping the grape into her mouth as her fingers expertly navigated her instrument. She opened her eyes at the second grape, though, her eyes immediately finding Alexia with a grin before they roamed over the others she was with. She popped the second grape in her mouth and tilted her head, pulling her headphones down around her neck.

“What in the world of football lesbians do we have here?”

Another grape hit her head. This one was thrown by Lucy, though, from her spot on the bottom of YFN’s sunbed.

“Are you secret royalty?” Lucy asked.

“No, just materialistic, I guess.”

Lucy chuckled at that and Alexia could tell they were already good friends. “I brought a few people, I hope you don’t mind. I drove them all to practise this morning.”

YFN was standing, introducing herself to Keira and Ona. Keira was happy to meet her, hugs and all. Ona was a little quieter than usual, Alexia realised. It had been last minute that they’d diverted and she hadn’t realised YFN would be here, she supposed.

“The more, the merrier.”

“The pool looks tempting. I would ask for a swim, but the sun is setting and we don’t have bikini’s.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a little skinny dipping, Bronze,” she replied with a wink.

“Riddlessss…” Came the warning from YFN. “Play nice.”

Ridley put her hands up in a gesture of submission. “Party wrecker.”

YFN rolled her eyes. “Ona, Keira, this is Ridley, Ridley, this is half of the Barca team,” she said with a laugh. It was a happy sound that made Lucy turn around just to look at her. She stepped forward and put a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder where she sat. “And you already know Lucy and Alexia.”

Ridley gave a wave. “Hola. And this is Chiquito. Welcome to our home.” She gestured around her as she picked up the little grey cat. “Have you come to take my friend away?”

Ridley stood then, most of her body on show. Alexia couldn’t physically help but stare at her. So many scars she hadn’t noticed before. And…tattoos? Ridley wandered over closer to the group, not bothering to close the button up like YFN had. With a body like that, she didn’t blame her.

“Sure have. I hear you helped YFN find a dress for Friday?”

“Not ‘helped’.” YFN said. “She did everything. And accessories. And hair. And Jordan’s outfit also. I can’t wait for you to see it!” She gushed leaning further onto Lucy. Alexia knew she didn’t mean to be so touchy in front of Ona, it was just how they were together. Thinking that, she remembered Ridley’s fingertips on her hand at the restaurant the other night, her lips on her cheek as she said goodbye, her fingertips rubbing her clit into her orgasm and through it-

“La Reina?”

That pulled her from her daze, her eyes immediately locking with Ridley’s.

“Si?”

“Are you okay with it?”

“With what…?”

Ridley’s smile and eyebrow raise made her feel like she knew she was the reason she was so distracted. That stunning face. Alexia was…nervous. It was an unusual feeling.

“I asked Ridley if she wanted to come tonight and she only will if you’re okay with it.” Lucy responded. She was standing now, one arm around YFN’s hip.

Alexia cleared her throat quietly and responded quickly trying to not be so obvious about wanting exactly that. “Si…yes I’m okay with it.”

Alexia tore her gaze off of Ridley, finding anything else. Her eyes fell on YFN who was biting her lip and Alexia wondered what she was thinking before she spoke. “We can meet you at the bar if you want?”

Ah, she must have been thinking about an awkward car ride sitting between Ona and Keira.

“Your clothes…” Lucy reminded her.

“I have plenty of clothes here. Many different sizes. We’ll find something cute for her to wear.” Ridley was confident.

Alexia wondered exactly why she had so many clothes, and her brain immediately thought of women she had over. Was it for them?

“It is…a boy?” Ona asked in broken English, stepping closer to Ridley and looking at Chiquito.

“Si.” She took a small step forward for Ona to pat. Ona was very much an animal lover. Keira stepped forward also when she realised how cuddly he was.

“How old is he?” She asked.

“Just turned one.”

“You adopted him?”

“She rescued him while she was in Dubai,” YFN answered for her.

Ridley rescued him? The thought of her seeing the little cat and wanting to take him home to Spain moved something in her. Her heart softened. He was very much obsessed with his mum, from the way he looked at her. Alexia felt a sadness in her stomach for her Pomeranian, Nala, who she’d recently lost. She pushed that emotion aside and gave way to the next which surprisingly was a deep jealousy, watching both Ona and Keira so close to Ridley, brushing up against her as they patted Chiquito in her arms. Keira stepped back first, being more of a dog than a cat person and even while Ona was still patting him, he looked over at Alexia and extended a paw in a stretch, slowly blinking. She thought she was going crazy, thinking he was gesturing to her when Ridley caught her attention.

“I think he wants to meet you.”

Alexia hesitated, not allowing herself to look up at Ridley just yet, for fear of daydreaming or doing something stupid again. She stepped towards the cat who was leaning into Ona’s hands, though looking at the Barca captain as she came so close she was almost touching Ridley. She stroked her fingertips through his soft, longish grey hair, noticing there wasn’t much of him. He was still a baby. And he was adorable.

“He’s intelligent, no?” She asked in Spanish.

“Si, very much so,” Ridley replied in perfect Spanish.

Ona’s head shot up. “You speak Spanish?”

“Of course, I live and work here.”

“Most people don’t bother to learn.”

She shrugged. “You learnt English, no? It’s rude to move to a country and not try to learn the language.”

“Wow, your Spanish is so good!” She complimented, listening to it roll off of her tongue. Ridley smirked at her and that jealously hit Alexia hard again. Very, very hard. So hard she felt sick and took a step back. She looked over at Lucy who’s eyes widened as she noticed.

“Okay, should we stop patting Ridley’s cat and go?” It was a deliberate sexual innuendo, obvious enough to earn her a slap on the arm by YFN. They grinned at each other.

“I’ll see you there. Text me the address.”

“Actually, we’re going to Javier’s bar…” Alexia said.

“Javier?” Ridley seemed confused and the look in her eye was almost as if she would back out. Alexia wasn’t surprised, she would have a lot of people flirting with her there. She couldn’t imagine she’d get through the night without spending some time up in one of the private rooms with someone.

“Is that okay?” YFN asked, a hand going onto her friend’s arm.

“Si,” she replied, pulled from her thoughts, her eyes finding Alexia’s. “Yes, we’ll see you there.”

Alexia was sitting on a bar stool, her leg bouncing as they waited. All of the Barca girls were there and having a good time. It was the middle of the week, so they weren’t drinking, just having dinner and chatting away. A hand touched her knee gently and she turned to Lucy who was giving her a look. A look that said ‘calm down, everything is okay.’

“They’ll be here soon.”

They’d arrived earlier, and Alexia knew that. Just as she said that, they walked through the door. She knew that because of the regulars greeting Ridley, and Lucy’s head snapping to watch YFN like she sensed she was there. Lucy stood automatically and Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle. They were just as bad as each other. While Ridley was tied up with some of the staff and regulars, Lucy introduced YFN around the table. Alexia forced herself to talk to Mapi and Ingrid across from her, distracting herself. She’d only lost sight of Ridley for a few minutes when the hair on her neck tingled and she smelled her perfume as she came up behind her.

“Is this seat taken?” She asked in Spanish.

Alexia shook her head as Ridley took a seat to her left, but not before introducing herself to Mapi and Ingrid over their table who gave Alexia a look. It was common knowledge around the team by now of Alexia’s ‘crush’. The ‘one who made her so grumpy’ Oshoala had said.

“Alexia!” Came another voice from behind her. She turned in her seat and grinned at Javier who had his arms outstretched as he came in for a hug and a kiss on either cheek. “Ridley was telling me about how your friends are dating…small world, yes?” He laughed.

“Apparently so,” she grumbled.

He laughed again at that. Javier was not stupid. He knew people. Not of people. But…people. What made them tick. It’s what made him so good at his job. “Servers will be around soon, I’m heading off for an early night, I just wanted to say hello first.”

“Sexy date?” Ridley asked.

“Oh baby, you know it. I’m going to blow his socks off.”

They shared a hand clap and a cheeky look between them. Javier said his goodbyes and left, but not before slipping something to Ridley that she caught out of the corner of her eye. Her stomach sank. Was it a room key, so she could fuck someone?

Lucy and YFN returned to their seats on the right side of Alexia, Lucy grabbing the bottom of YFN’s chair and dragging it right up against hers. Cute. Although Ridley wasn’t as close, she was very aware that she was right next to her, no matter where she looked.

“Alexia?” A small voice came from behind her.

She turned in her chair to see a young girl in a Barca jersey holding up a little teddy. Alexia took it out of politeness.

“Hola. Would you like me to sign this?” She asked in Spanish with a smile.

“No, that’s a present for you. Could I get a photo?”

Alexia smiled and nodded. She knelt down next to the girl and held the teddy up, one arm going around her as her mother took a photo of both of them.

“Thank you for my teddy, it’s very cute.”

“Her name is Nala.” Alexia hesitated, not able to find words. “Because you lost Nala.”

The melancholy must have been written on her face because her mother stepped forwards putting her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Alexia. She heard you lost Nala and wanted to give you something…I hope it’s okay?”

“Y..yes.” She replied, her voice cracking. “Yes of course, sorry, you caught me off guard. Thank you for this.” The last part was directed to the girl who smiled.

She watched them as they walked off and she returned to her barstool, holding the teddy to her with one arm. Nala. Fingertips touched her hand. She looked at Ridley who had lost all cheekiness, her eyes sincere.

“Are you okay?” The question was soft and just between the pair.

Alexia nodded. “Si, thank you.”

“She’s cute,” she murmured, looking at the teddy.

Her fingertips left her then and the skin where they were became cold.

The rest of the night was full of good talks, and a few awkward moments. Ona had been unable to stop her eyes wandering to Lucy, and it was obvious to everyone at the table besides her. YFN made her way around to talk to different people, Ridley mingling also. Ona had been flirting with Ridley and Alexia wondered if it was intentional, or just to distract herself from Lucy. From what she’d seen, Ridley had been polite about it, but that hadn’t stopped the jealousy. They all moved around, not really keeping their seats as they spoke to each other. Alexia kept her little teddy close so it wouldn’t be covered in drinks or food.

“Ridley!”

Ridley turned, so did Alexia who was a few people down from her. He was a handsome guy who’d had a few to drink, and he spoke to Ridley like he knew her.

“Hola.”

“It’s me!” He said in Spanish with a slur.

She tilted her head.

“Max?”

“Oh! Max. Hola.” She seemed uninterested and as if he’d interrupted them, which he had. Still, her reaction caught Alexia off guard because she was usually nice to everyone.

He frowned. “I thought you’d be more excited to see me.”

“I’m with friends, Max. Is everything okay?”

“I just wanted to know if you’re free.”

“Clearly not.”

Another frown. “I’m beginning to think you don’t like me…”

“I’ve told you multiple times in the past that I don’t.”

“Come on baby.” He grabbed her jaw. “I wanna see what that mouth can do.”

Alexia took a step forwards but stopped as YFN grabbed her arm. “She’s got this.” She murmured.

Ridley slapped his hand away. “My mouth can do a lot of things…” She teased.

“Like what baby?”

“Like hurt your feelings. Now fuck off.”

He didn’t take it well and his jaw flexed as Ridley turned her back on him. A woman came over and grabbed his arm, dragging him away before returning and grabbing Ridley, spinning her around.

Ridley groaned. “What in the one mutual friend do you want?”

“That’s my boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry. Do you need a therapist? I have a great one I can recommend.”

A few of the Barca girls chuckled under their breath, enjoying the show.

“Fuck you. He’s a great guy! He was just being nice!”

“You see a lot of potential in a guy who obviously sleeps on a mattress on the floor.”

Alexia coughed to cover a laugh and from the side of Ridley’s mouth smirking, she knew she heard it.

“You’re just a fucking-”

“Uh uh.” Ridley cut off. “Before you try to hurt my feelings, take into account that I don’t have any, and that you probably do. Now go back to your boyfriend and maybe give him some attention so he’ll stop trying to pick up women in the bar like he does every other night.”

“He does not.”

She shrugged. “Just warning you. Have fun.”

“He’s…he just like sex. He’s the reason I’m happy.”

“Good for you. I’m the reason a lot of people drink heavily. Now fuck off before I call security.”

She raised her hand, gesturing to the security guard watching them. The woman looked over and thought about it until she gave up and walked away. Ridley nodded to the security guard who nodded back and kept an eye on them.

Ridley turned back around to the applause of the Barca girls and Alexia would be lying if she said she wasn’t incredibly turned on. Apparently Ona was also as she leant in and shared a chuckle with her about the ordeal. Alexia turned away but couldn’t find a distraction anywhere. Across from her, Mapi and Ingrid were kissing, and to her right, YFN and Lucy were getting closer, talking lowly with their eyes loving each other. She couldn’t be mad, but she was. So mad. Behind the madness she could feel loneliness and sadness. She looked at the time. 9pm. They had training tomorrow.

“I’m going to head off,” she murmured thinking no one would hear. They did.

“Already?” Lucy asked before looking at the time, her eyes widening and turning to YFN. “We need to get you to bed.”

YFN had an early flight.

“We’ll come too,” Mapi nodded.

“I want to stay,” Ona said, but it was directed more at Ridley. Her eyes flicked to Lucy and back though.

Alexia didn’t even want to hear the response, thinking about the room key in her pocket. She stood and said her goodbyes, holding her teddy close as she walked out with Lucy, YFN, Mapi, Ingrid, and a few others.

“Who needs a lift?” Lucy asked.

Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid put their hand up for that. Oshoala offered to take Patri and Keira home while Caroline and Marta were going together.

On the way to the car, they were approached by two young men wanting autographs. Alexia had seen them before, and knew they didn’t care about them, they just used their autographs to make money. The Barca girls brushed them off but they were insistent. One of them was going for Lucy and pushed YFN out of the way. She stumbled and fell to her knees.

Lucy saw red and shoved him away, helping YFN back onto her feet, putting her behind her protectively. “Get the fuck away from her.”

He put his hands up and backed away, Lucy waiting until far enough away to look at YFN’s scraped hands. She put her in the passenger side and closed the door, holding the rear door open for the others. Ingrid jumped in and Mapi was shoving the other insistent guy away before he got to the Norwegian. Alexia was last, and obviously his prime target.

“Alexia!” He held out something for her to sign. She ducked her head kept walking to the car. “What, so you’ll only sign it if I’m a girl? Typical lesbian.”

What he said was disgusting, but it wasn’t something she hadn’t heard before. She kept walking to the car as he backed away, though he seemed to change his mind and before she got to the car, he snatched the teddy from her arms and ran away.

“No!” She yelled after him. Nala. He jumped into the car his friend was in, both laughing as they started the engine. Alexia knew better than to pursue in case she was hurt and just stood there, her arm still outstretched a little from when she’d tried to stop him. She couldn’t help the tears that fell from her eyes. A hand touched her arm and she turned. Ridley. One look at her face and Ridley’s jaw flexed, her expression changing to something Alexia hadn’t seen before. Ridley ran to their car as they started it up and grabbed the door handle. It was locked. They stuck their finger up at her and started to drive off. She ran with them and that’s when she smashed the front window in with her fist. It took a few tries and Alexia gasped when she watched it, knowing how much it must have hurt. The guys yelled and hit the brakes as she leant through the window and grabbed the teddy. She left them there, and wandered back over to Alexia, her anger disappearing as she did so. The car sped off behind her. Alexia looked wide eyed at Ridley as she handed the teddy back to her as if it was nothing.

“Some things can’t be replaced.” She murmured, not meeting her eyes.

Alexia’s lips trembled and she wiped the tears from her eyes, taking it and holding it close to her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you drive my car to hospital please? I broke my hand.”

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #engwnt #jordan nobbs #lionesses #lucy bronze #woso x reader #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader #ona batlle #mapi leon #ingrid engen #alexia putellas #barca femeni #keira walsh #barcelona femeni #barca #fc barcelona #fc barça #fc barca #culers #england lionesses

[nsharks]

buckshot | simon “ghost” riley

words: 2.4k

plot: simon teaches you how to use a shotgun so you can protect the family while he’s gone.

tags: mostly fluff, dad simon, a small touch of smut, lots of gun talk, fem!reader

a/n: I am not pro-guns at all this is just a fic. also based on my research shotguns and hunting rifles are the only guns you can own in the uk.

“Why the hell not?”

Simon is standing in the doorway of your bathroom, arms crossed and his mask off as he watches you brush your hair.

Sharing a home with him, and now a baby with him, has made Simon the most protective person you’d ever met. Perhaps even more so in the past few months he’d been home since the birth of your son. He refused to let you do anything but rest and nurse for the first month. He’d wake up multiple times during the night just to check the locks on all the doors, and recheck them, and then check up on the baby’s room, as if someone could have snuck in and swept him away.

You’re paranoid, Simon, you’d told him a couple times. Groggy and woken up again by his nightly patrol. Sometimes you even caught him just sitting in the living room at ridiculous hours; he claimed that it was due to a bad dream, but you suspected he was trying to take “watch” while his family slept.

“Because, Simon,” you say in exasperation, seeing his irritated reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I don’t like guns. Why would I want to shoot them?”

Simon always kept a shotgun hidden in the house.

You’d known that he had the license for it since before you. He even made you get licensed a couple years ago (in case of emergencies, he’d said). But you weren’t a fan of that sort of thing, and he hadn’t insisted on you actually using one until now.

“You don’t have to fuckin’ like them. You just have to know how to use one,” Simon says tersely. He runs a hand through his hair, an action he does only when he’s maskless around you. Even after all these years, it’s still a shocking sight to see him without the skull painted over his appearance.

Skull or not, he’s intimidating.

You don’t share his worries about your and the baby’s safety. Not when you’ve got him to scare people off.

“I really don’t want to,” you sigh, setting the brush down. Your voice is soft and careful, not wanting to fight him over something so ridiculous, especially when you’ve seen how paranoid he’s grown.

In no time at all, you’re standing in front of him with your hands placed on his bare chest, the strain of his muscles softening only slightly under your touch. It takes him a moment before his arms slide around your waist.

“Y/N,” he breathes out through his nostrils and leans over to touch his forehead to yours. “I’m… leavin’ soon. Next week. You’re not going to have me here in case… in case shit happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” you tell him in a whisper. “Not to me, not to our son.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. Instead, the notch in his throat presses against his skin as he swallows.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Can you just do this for me?” His forehead slides down to the dip in your neck, breathing in your neck like he always does, and his voice has turned hoarse. “I need to… keep you safe. Have to.”

You’ve only ever heard the story about his family and his little nephew once or twice. It’s not something you could bare thinking about when your son slept just meters away, but it crosses your mind.

Maybe Simon has a point.

It took him so long to feel safe, worthy, of growing this family with you.

You can only imagine the fear he must feel. How much responsibility he feels to make sure your fate doesn’t end up like the rest of his family members.

Hands moving to the expanse of his back, you melt into him and finally give in. “Okay,” you whisper. “Okay, okay. Show me how to use a gun, Simon.”

_____

You both feel awful saying goodbye to your son for the day.

It’s the first time you’ve asked for a nanny. Simon preformed his own “background check” on each name you listed off to him, names that had been mentioned to you by friends or family. After his thorough research, you had finally settled on someone to watch the baby while the two of you went on your “hunting” trip.

“I think he will miss you the most,” you’d pouted, watching Simon hold your son before you left.

The baby looked so small in his arms; even at three months old, Simon’s hand could cover the entirety of his little back.

“No way, love,” Simon gave a small kiss to the boy’s forehead. “You’re the one feedin’ him. He’s gonna miss the fresh meals more than his dad today.”

Now, not at home with the baby for the first time since his entrance in your lives, Simon is driving you down a gravel road in the middle of nowhere. You have been awfully quiet the whole ride, equally as hesitant about the new babysitter as you are about what your husband is dragging you out here to do.

You know what he does. You’ve known perfectly well what Simon is infamous for, what his nickname is, and the long list of names of the people who have died at his hands. You’re okay with it since you never have to see it, because when it comes to violence, you are nothing like your husband. You used to catch Simon practically smirking when a gory or violent scene would come on in a movie. Meanwhile, you’d bury your gaze in his chest and grimace.

Don’t worry, pet, they’re not even showing it accurately, he’d tell you, as if that would help.

The place he stops at is a wooded area where the dirt road starts to dissipate into tall grasses. He claims to know the property’s owner so it’s fine for you to be there. He’s instructed you to wear long pants and comfy shoes for the occasion. For himself, he’s opted for black cargo pants and his painted balaclava.

“C’mon,” he says, stopping the car and eagerly getting the shotgun he brought out of the trunk.

You follow him into the woods. Something about his confidence indicates that he’s been here before, but you’ve never known him to hunt animals, especially with what his father used to do with them.

“We’re not… we’re not killing anything, right?” you ask when he finally stops walking. There’s nothing but tall trees around you and the occasional bird or squirrel causing you to flinch in surprise.

Simon’s too busy loading the gun to look at you.

“No.”

Something about his voice is different than the Simon you know. Concentrating intently, he closes the shotgun and then reaches for your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Take it,” he says huskily. Your fingers outstretch to wrap around the gun and take it from his hold. It feels… heavier than you anticipated and your grasp is awkward, the butt of it pressing into your chest.

“Well, not like that,” you can almost hear the amusement in his voice, but then it sobers, deepening with a tone of command. “Place this hand on the stock wrist.”

He’s behind your body, closely pressed against you so he can maneuver your hands where he wants them. You’re trying your best to focus since this is a serious situation, a loaded gun in your hands, but it’s hard not to feel the satisfying warmth emitted from his chest.

Once Simon seems satisfied, he asks you, “How does it feel?”

“Heavy,” you admit.

“Let’s fix your stance,” he instructs gruffly, “That should help.”

He uses his booted foot to tap against your feet, urging them further apart until they’re about shoulder-width. He shows you how to stand properly, how to bend your knees slightly and keep the gun high by your cheek as you hold it. He tells you to keep your feet planted to absorb the recoil. You’re doing your best to follow his instructions, feeling like one of his soldiers.

“Is this okay?” you ask, his hands dropping from yours so it’s only you now.

He takes a step back and inspects you with heavy eyes, the same eyes he drags over your naked body in bed. But this time, he’s not inspecting every detail of your bare skin and reveling in the beautiful sight of your curves and dips. Instead, he is inspecting the quality of your stance as you hold a weapon, and you try your best to appear confident under your husband’s experienced gaze.

“Good girl,” he finally says. The praise makes you shudder. “You’ve got a solid stance.”

“Can I shoot it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He shakes his head and leaves you to grab his backpack. He pulls out a couple of empty bottles.

“Point it at the ground, love,” he orders before he steps in front of you. You obey, lowering your aim and being mindful not to shoot him as he places the bottles on a fallen tree in front of you.

Once he’s out of the way, back by your side and wrapping his arm around your waist, you lift the shotgun back to the position he has showed you. His hot breath floods through his mask and tickles your neck.

“There’s a safety lock on it,” he mutters lowly, pointing to a little switch next to the trigger. “You need to move it if you want to shoot.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks flushing from the sound of his voice. “Should I unlock it now?”

“Go ahead,” Simon says, “The gun in the house is loaded. You just have to unlock it if you ever need it”

There’s something about the way Simon’s powerful presence envelops you that makes your head feel fuzzy. It’s time to shoot now, but your heart is thumping wildly and you can’t help but lean into him.

“Can you… can you shoot it with me? For the first one?”

“Just the first one,” he warns, but is already placing his hands over yours, touch warm and strong and reassuring. There is always safety to be found in his touch. “Don’t worry so much about aim, alright? These aren’t regular slugs. They’re buckshot’s.”

You blink. “What?”

“They have a bunch of little pellets, not a single projectile. It’ll be easier for you.”

Although you are wildly out of your element, he is comfortably in his. You’re almost certain this isn’t even the kind of gun he uses in the field, but still, it is a language he is readily able to speak no matter the weapon.

“Finger on the trigger,” he murmurs in your ear.

Your finger finds the curve of the trigger, his finger following yours so you’re not pressing it on your own. There’s not another second for you to hesitate before he’s shooting it for you, bringing your finger down with his. The shot rings out. Echoes among the wilderness along with the sound the shattering bottle.

The recoil presses you further into his hold, but he keeps a firm grip on you, taking most of it in himself.

“I’ve got ya,” he assures you, noticing the wideness of your eyes. “That was good. You did good.“

“Oh, wow,” you sputter. The strength of it, the feeling of its power beneath your gentle hands, is not what you imagined. You wonder what it feels like to have this frightening kind of rush all the time. How it must feel to watch a body take the bullet rather than a bottle.

“On your own now,” Simon huffs.

The warmth and security of his touch is lost when he steps away and leaves the gun in your hands. The weight causes your hands to falter, but you repeat everything he’s told you in your head and adjust your grip. You want to show him you can handle yourself. Ease his worries with the assurance that you’re not weak and incapable whenever he’s gone.

But you hesitate.

Swallowing, you take your eyes off the next bottle to look at him for help. “Simon, I can’t-“

“Hey, hey.” The command in his voice remains, firm yet gentle. “Yes, you can. You are the strongest woman I know.”

“But… but I’m not you.”

“You don’t have to be me to shoot a shotgun.” His eyes catch yours and he gives a small nod of encouragement. “It’s just for protection, yeah? Not trying to turn you into a soldier.”

With the small encouragement, your finger returns to the trigger. You widen your stance a little. Keep the gun’s stock up by your cheek. You feel his eyes watching you carefully, but for just a moment, you pretend Simon isn’t there. Because the truth is, he’s not there all the time. There are stretches of time when the only person you, and now your son, have to rely on is you, and that’s not a responsibility you take lightly.

You shoot the gun and the next bottle shatters.

The strong recoil causes your feet to dig into the dirt and your body shudders.

“Christ, nice shot,” you hear Simon say over your steady breathing. You lower the gun and beam at him, the rush from the shot filling you with confidence.

“Thanks to you, lieutenant.”

_____

Practicing until all the bottles are broken leaves you with a sense of adrenaline that Simon assures you he knows how to soothe. The sun starts to set as he gets you back to the car, but once you’re inside, he’s pulling you onto his lap and attaching his lips to your collarbone.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groans against your skin and anxiously peels off your top, your pants, every piece of fabric that gets in his way. He kisses the marks that pregnancy has left behind, always supplying them with adoration. His skin is hot to the touch, just as consuming as it had been during his teachings, and when he starts moaning into your neck about how fucking hot you are, you wonder if seeing you shoot a gun is the cause of the wild lust in his voice.

“Got to reward you,” he hums low, giving you his fingers just how he knows you like them. “You were such a good girl for me.”

When you’re back home that night, finally leaving after his reward in the car, Simon is the one to put the baby to bed. Then, he joins you in your room, slipping his warm body under the blankets beside you, and sleeping through the night for the first time in months. He thinks, maybe, now he won’t be quite as worried when he has to leave you both next week.

——

a/n: ok I promise simon picked up all the glass and threw it away somewhere because he’s not a litterer 👍🏻 also I don’t like any kind of gun at all and I’d prefer if they didn’t exist but I can understand why someone like simon would feel safer with one in his house given his past

#simon ghost riley x you #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #fanfiction #fluff #cod #tw gun

[dnpbeats]

Just going a little more into the whole thing about understanding young dnp differently now that we have the whole story, something else I have been thinking about so much is queer rights movements and legislation in the uk. Im a good decade younger than them, when gay marriage was legalised I was 12. I was old enough to understand what it was, but i didnt really have any sort of understanding of how it affected me bc i hadnt even started to figure out who i was yet. To me it feels like so long ago, i feel like ive always had it, which is an immense privelage. But dan and phil were not only already in their mid twenties and in a 5 year strong relationship, they already had an active career on youtube. Watching ditl in london, that was the year gay marriage was legalised in the uk. That was who they already were as people and as creators. I cant imagine what it would have been like when the bill passed. They were still so closeted, but that was also such a big win for them and the whole community. I wonder if at the time it still seemed like such a far fetched thing anyway, bc i cant imagine they were even close to wanting to come out yet. Idk if they thought at that point they ever would. And then i think about the fact that they had been in a committed relationship for 5 years at that point. I cant imagine what it would be like to be with my self-proclaimed 'soulmate' and know that you can not legally recognize your relationship. To not know if you ever would. Which then makes sense as to why its not necessarily a priority for them now. Idk, its like you said. Its strange and a little sad to know now who they were then, but in the end it all worked out. They made it to the other side and i could not be happier for them.

oh wow yeah!! im about the same age as you I think, and yes it was much the same for me in the sense that I was aware of same-sex marriage legislation being passed but I had no real grasp on like, what that actually meant for people lol. this got me curious so I went back and tried to see if they ever even talked about same-sex marriage being legalized in the UK. from what I can see they didn't tweet about it at all, and im assuming they didn't make any other statements about it? then in 2015 when it was legalized in the US, they did both tweet, but quite impersonally (I mean I get why im not saying they should've been making grand statements or anything like that). like even setting their relationship aside for a moment, I can imagine it was incredibly difficult for them as two closeted gay men to navigate how to address things like this publicly—obviously when it came to the UK they didn't even address it at all. but im sure it was a huge deal for them to see it legalized just in the sense of what it represents. but even with this landmark that represented lgbtq+ ppl being more generally accepted, they were still closeted, so there was only so much they could say. like I would love to know their thoughts that they couldnt express in 2013/2014/2015 on what it meant to them! but also how it affected them that they couldnt share their thoughts

but then yeah I do wonder how it was for them in the context of their relationship. bc like before it wasn't even a possibility that they could get married. and then they did have the option, but actually not really because they were still closeted, so even if they wanted to they still technically couldnt without outing themselves. but obviously just knowing you now have the option when you couldnt before meant a lot to them im sure

#dan and phil #anon #ask #d&p

[canmom]

Since you're anisports posting, can you share your thoughts about Yuasa's Ping pong ?

the very short answer is man I really gotta watch more of Ping-Pong! so far I've only seen the first episode, but it was pretty interesting in terms of character dynamics. I hear the animation is really creative later on - I mean go figure, it's a Yuasa project - so I really gotta watch more. (I am actually really bad at getting round to watching stuff outside the context of the movie night... hell I'm like 7 episodes behind dunmeshi right now.)

so, from memory then... what I did find striking in the first episode is this theme of like, elitism and international rivalry. the story begins with a Chinese player coming to Japan and finding himself contemptuous of how shitty the Japanese players are in this pathetic backwater where nobody is good at ping-pong. and being good or bad at ping-pong is a big deal for these characters.

'China is much better at ping-pong' is not a concept I'd really been exposed to before that! (I absolutely could not tell you what countries are supposed to be good at ping-pong.) but it does resonate with a certain broader recurring theme you occasionally see of like... whether Japanese (xyz) can hope to stack up against the mighty (xyz)-doers of whatever other country. whether that's playing ping-pong or building fighter planes (a sentiment you see motivating the characters in The Wind Rises).

and that makes me think about odd places I've seen that sorta nationalist underdog sentiment crop up, not just in Japan. whether Chinese social media critics writing scathingly about guómàn out of a perceived need to rise to the level of Japanese and American animation, or Japanese game developers taking to heart the cruel sentiments expressed about Japanese games by other developers during the 2010s and talking about wanting to make Japanese RPGs (for example) compare with Western ones. maybe even the South Korean government going all in on supporting a fraudulent geneticist out of a feeling that the country had to prove itself scientifically.

these examples are all from Asian countries but I definitely don't think this is something that only happens in Asia lol. that said, it's kind of a contrast to the general attitude in my country, where nationalist sentiment more often looks like empire-nostalgia or blithely presuming superiority. people don't so often seem to feel like we collectively have something to prove. maybe there's a sense of embarassment when the UK loses the football [soccer] again, since that one's supposed to be our thing. it was kinda darkly funny when the womens' team actually did win the football, and suddenly people cared about womens' football.

I don't really have much of a thesis on that though, I'm just running along a tangent here. I'll have more interesting things to say about the sports, and the boys that play the sports, when I give Ping-Pong a proper watch through.

#also still need to watch kemonozume and the tatami galaxy on the yuasa front #anime

[wherefore-whinnies]

how i learned to crochet amigurumi!

this is for @jetset-rain but I thought I might was well just post it to everyone!

I taught myself to crochet back in 2020 for the sole reason that there was a really really cute Wooloo pattern and I wanted it. no other loo would do. so I wanted to share some tips and such!

to get started I got a few things:

a crochet hook, or multiple: I bought a super cheap set of like 10 different sizes on amazon for like $14. (unfortunately I don't know where besides amazon you'd look; at craft stores they'll be brand name and much more expensive.) since you're just starting out and seeing if you like it the quality really does not matter imo. so yeah I'd totally just grab some cheap no-name/knock-off set from somewhere, it's fine. the two hooks I used from the set most often until I replaced them with higher-quality ones were size 3.0mm and 4.0mm. I think 3.0mm isn't a common hook size in North America; when I replaced it I got a 3.25mm hook instead. these hook sizes might also be referred to as size D (3.25mm) and size G (4.0mm). I think for some of my very first attempts I used a 5.0mm hook (size H). so really I would have only needed those 3 sizes.

some cheap yarn from my craft store. the yarn weight I used might be called "medium", "worsted", or just "size 4" (in the UK I think it's called "aran") and it's the most common size at least at my craft store. I just looked for something cheap with a lot of yardage in a colour I liked. I think mine was Bernat Super Value Solid in Lush (green) which was 426 yd - I still haven't run out 3 years later although I'm getting close now. you might want to get two different colours.

stitch markers - these are little things like safety pins that you insert into your stitches to help you keep track of the counts. I think I didn't get any right away but they are very helpful! I think once again the cheapest way to get some is somewhere like amazon unfortunately. you can get a large quantity for a lot cheaper than in craft stores. or you can skip buying some initially especially if you have safety pins or something you can use as a substitute.

a yarn needle - you'll need this to weave in the loose ends of your yarn at the end of a project. I got a couple relatively cheap from my craft store. you can skip buying some initially and just leave all the ends chilling hanging out.

I then proceeded to teach myself stuff off of youtube videos. if you're left-handed like me you can look up specifically left-handed videos or you can just use one of those sites that lets you mirror youtube videos.

this video below seems super familiar and I'm pretty sure it's one of the first videos I ever used.

I also used the video below this for my first ever "project". there's a right-handed version on their channel somewhere.

at first it took me several minutes to make just one single crochet stitch. it was so frustrating and I was like how tf do people just do this (I have pretty poor fine motor skills). but I kept at it!! here is the first square I ever made (following the above video) on the right, and the second square I made on the left:

the next thing I learned was how to do a magic circle so that I could crochet in the round to make amigurumi. I think I used the below video (there is probably also a right-handed version, otherwise you can watch a mirrored version):

and then after that I was ready to make cute creatures! I made a whale following the below video! (also I had to buy safety eyes for this, on amazon again)

and now you have amigurumi!!!

[missmouse25]

Ask and thou shalt receive ✨❤️ hope you enjoy it!

Our Story - Max Fewtrell

gender neutral first person pov // 912 words // quadrant core being chaotic; just fluff

---

“Wait, Max, are you lying in bed?”

“Yeah? What of it?”

“Lazy sod!”

“Oi! It’s Sunday afternoon, I’m allowed to be lazy!”

The bickering continued next to me. Max was, in fact, lying on his bed with his phone stretched out in front of him, watching his friends faces on the screen. It was always nice when they did social calls - I got a good giggle out of whatever stories the core Quadrant members had to share.

Even though they didn’t know I existed.

My boyfriend looked over from his spot, to see me smiling as I lay next to him and I watched his eyes turn to hearts in front of me. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one.

“Max! What are you looking at?” Ria’s voice was heard.

“Nothing.”

“Lies! He’s gone all gooey.” Niran. “Who’s with you?”

“No one, it’s just me.” Max tried to defend himself.

Even though I couldn’t see them, I could imagine the faces of everyone on the call as more chaos ensued.

I couldn’t stop myself: I laughed.

“Oh my god there is something with you!” Lando nearly yelled.

It became impossible to hear anyone clearly for a few seconds as they all spoke over each other. Max’s face scrunched up at all the voices, clearly regretting his life choices.

“Hello random person!”

“Is it someone we know?”

“Let’s see them then!”

Gently, I patted Max’s leg to get his attention and he moved closer.

“It’s ok, you can tell them,” I whispered in his ear.

“Are you sure?” He whispered back.

I nodded, to which Max smiled and got back in front of the camera.

“Ok, ok! All of you shut up!”

The silence came thick and fast.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

~ It had started just like any other day. The sun baked the streets and made buildings glitter as it hit windows far above my head. I had planned my day ahead of time and knew exactly what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go.

And then everything went sideways when I saw him. He was standing by himself on the pavement, a confused expression on his face and a map in his hand. Normally, I would leave tourists to their own devices – there were plenty of places to get help if one needed it. But there was something about him; maybe it was the spark of kindness that I saw in his eyes as he moved out of an elderly man’s way.

“Excuse me?”

He turned, looking as bewildered as I felt by this interaction.

“Do you need some help?” I asked, and watched his entire body relax.

“Yeah. Yes, please. I’m so lost.” He said in a British accent and smiled, almost nervously.

On the map, he pointed out where he was wanted to go and much to his luck, I was going the same way.

“We can walk together,” I suggested. “Make sure that you don’t get lost again.”

“I would very much appreciate that.”

And so, we walked. He told me his name was Max and then I told him mine. He explained to me about how he had wanted to be a normal tourist for the day, get out onto the streets and experience Dubai for himself. And how with that experience had come with getting lost within the first five minutes of leaving his hotel.

Although I felt bad, I was also amused. Max seemed so genuine in his efforts and the way he spoke about things. It didn’t hurt either that he was kind of cute.

- “When’s your flight landing?”

“It should be 4pm UK time.”

The airport was grand and it seemed that the stream of people moving about never seemed to end. But soon enough I would be in the air and on my way to England, and this would be a memory.

“Ok, send me a message when you land,” Max’s voice was soft through the phone.

“Yes, Max. You’ve already asked me to do that.”

“Sorry, I just want to make sure that I’m there.” He paused. “I’ve really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. But we’ll see each other soon.”

I looked up and saw the sign change, showing that it was time to board.

“Max, I have to go, we’re boarding.”

“Fly safe, please.”

I laughed a little at that. “I’m not the one flying the plane.”

“I know but… just… Be safe, I love you.”

~ Max finished telling our story and waited with baited breath.

“You’ve been in a relationship for a year and we didn’t know about it!?” Lando finally said.

“Yeah.”

“Can we meet them?” Steve.

Max seemed hesitant. Despite having told them the whole story, a year of keeping everything on the downlow was about to officially end. I could see that Max didn’t want to give it up just yet.

“Max,” I said quietly. “Give me the phone.”

Slowly, Max passed the phone over as I sat up properly.

“Hello, everyone.”

Yet again that afternoon, chaos erupted as everyone on the call tried to be the first to say ‘hello’ or ask questions.

The smile was on my face without even thinking. I felt Max slip his arm around my shoulders and pull me closer.

“It’s nice to finally meet you all,” I said, though I doubted they could even hear me.

And so I started the next chapter of my story with Max.

#i have not proofread this #im trying to post this before load shedding hits #hope you liked it! #max fewtrell fanfic #max fewtrell x reader #Mouse Writes #ThatKindaVibe

[gillianthecat]

.

omg Alchemy of Souls is really good?! who knew? i mean yes, everyone knew but i try to keep myself as ignorant as possible if it's a show i think i might watch. anyway, I was not expecting a romcom/straight up comedy (i had the impression of grand romantic tragedy), and it's a delight. the leads are both sooo hot and ooh boy yes there is the chemistry everyone was talking about (really the only piece of news that made it through my embargo). and i'm still only half an hour into episode two.

it manages to successfully pull off the comedy of a powerful woman losing her powers without (so far falling at least) falling into the misogyny trap. i think because naksu/mu-deok really does feel like a powerful person temporarily disabled, and she's not put in situations any more ridiculous than any of the men. and because jang-uk does seem to genuinely look up to her and her power (even if he does also get turned on anytime she says she's going to kill him).

i'm confused about what happened to jang gang and to the king, but presumably that's a Mystery that will be revealed later. and i'm very appreciative of our favorite socially oblivious sunshine boy, mr. exposition himself, park dang-gu, because i would be even more lost without him.

i also watched the first two episodes of Perfect Marriage Revenge and My Lovely Liar, but then ran into viki's paywall. i was intrigued by people's comments and gifs on my dash about Perfect Marriage Revenge, and looking for distraction i checked it out. it is... extremely soapy and melodramatic. and v. low budget, the cheapest looking korean production i've seen yet. i kinda gritted my teeth through the first episode, figuring i would enjoy it more once she went back in the past to get revenge, and i did! i rather liked her and her anger, and the marriage of convenience trope has some appeal. but i'm not huge on the whole rich ceo shows his attraction by bullying the woman thing, and while this wasn't a very egregious example, it did toe the line at moments. (also his acting was rather wooden.) i can see them having some lovely moments and chemistry, and i wouldn't avoid watching it, but i certainly wasn't going to pay viki for the privilege. i'm rather picky about how my damsel-in-distress plots are depicted, and again, this is kinda on the edge.

My Lovely Liar on the other is shaping up to be really excellent. it seems to be doing something similar to Into the Ring, where the heroine has her own full self sufficient life already, and is simply intrigued by this guy she keeps encountering. if anything, it seems like he will be the one in distress and she will be the one doing the rescuing. i mean, just compare the episode two drunk scene in MLL and PMR—look at who is passed out drunk and who is looking at them fondly and stealing a caress. i need my heterosexual romances to do something interesting with their gendered tropes to really grab me.

there was a moment when they were both about to watch the soccer game on separate sides of their shared wall, and i thought "i hope they're rooting for opposing teams" (which i might have already figured out if i knew what team jerseys looked like but all i could tell is they were both red). and then they were! and the scene was perfect. and i was like, of course i should trust this show to get this right. the whole thing just feels well crafted so far. (and the production values felt positively luxurious coming straight from PMR).

that is a show i would want to return to someday.

#gtc on alchemy of souls #gtc on perfect marriage revenge #gtc on my lovely liar #liveblogging other shows #het romance #het dramas

[spotconln]

uk conlon siblings

because @daveysjackie and i both love pinoy spot (clarice we miss you), naturally we had to expand on her life and gave her siblings. a lot of my other thoughts about her comes from here! 

they are marisol, tala, and sean col-long at birth

ages in canon are 17, 13, and 9 respectively 

marisol: sunflower in tagalog; before moving up to new york from the south, their mother’s favorite flowers were the narrowleaf sunflower. a beautiful plant that’s able to thrive in difficult conditions, a sentiment she hopes is passed onto her firstborn

tala: bright star in tagalog; like many others, the stars were an important guide that got their ancestors to america, strong and bright, grounding. the second-born, rounding out their little family and becoming a new star in the col-long constellation 

sean: ‘god is gracious’ in irish; while not filipino in origin, their parents’ faith in god is a large part of their lives, so it seemed fitting to honor their third and final child after the faith that’s kept them together and strong as a family (also it’d be a crime to not keep sean conlon in the mix somehow)

when they move to new york, their last name becomes anglicized to conlon to assimilate a little better  

tala and sean are part of the select few to call marisol ‘mari’, but it’s only used when they want something or feel mischievous 

before moving, they’d speak in tagalog practically all the time. but after, they started speaking in english more for practice. they do still often communicate in tagalog, mostly to gossip in front of folks or discuss private things

because of her namesake, tala developed an appreciation for the stars, her favorite being the lyra constellation because it reminds her of the music shared in her community 

mari loves both her siblings (despite their behavior at times) and prioritizes them over everything. tala gets along with mari more than she does sean. she’s the ‘anti-mari’, refusing to obey her sister sometimes, but she does not like sean for most of their childhood. she teases him for being the shortest and smallest of the three, often calling him mini, dot, half-off, semi-conlon, bite-sized, smidge, etc. sean’s biggest role model is mari, and took to trailing after her a lot when he was quite young

as newsies, they become spot, dash, and mini

spot: named after her deadly aim with a slingshot

dash: based on her mad running skills that spot is both proud of and hates – it’s easier for her to run off into a crowd whenever she does something stupid

mini: both because dash won’t stop calling him this and he aspires to be like spot one day, so people took to calling him a ‘mini spot’ (it was nearly freckles because he does have them and it adds to his charm in front of the ladies)

the three of them used to sleep in a single bunk (due to the fear of losing each other after their parents died) but when they got bigger, spot took the top bunk while dash and mini took the bottom. the three do try to squeeze together on occasion, to various degrees of success

spot taught them how to use a slingshot when they were each old enough and gave them their own personalized one. dash’s has the lyra constellation carved in, while mini’s has two circles – one large and small

dash, lucky, and stray make up the ‘troublemaking younger sister/cousin’ trio. they drive spot, belle (daveysjackie’s oc for lucky’s older sister), and specs (stray’s older cousin – ty bailey siblings) insane sometimes 

sprinkling in the sprace; mini looks up to race as a brotherly figure. whenever he makes the trek over to brooklyn, at night he and dash and mini would sit on the fire escape and he would tell them stories until they fall asleep. spot watches from the window and takes her siblings back inside so race can sneak off undetected 

mini becomes fiercely loyal to race. one time some of the brooklyn newsies were in manhattan, and he saw jack and race argue over something. immediately ran over to them and started hitting jack’s legs to defend race. race was highly appreciative. jack was confused but played along, over-exaggerating his defeat

now every time jack sees mini he starts off by dramatically hiding from him in his “are you following me” style. it boosts the kid’s ego so much

mini and les become fast friends, being the same age. mini absolutely teaches les how to use a slingshot. davey is concerned, spot just hopes no one’s eye is taken out

while dash thinks of mini as the ‘annoying younger brother’ for a long time, she’s still very protective over him. sees him get beat up by the delanceys once and “knocks morris’ teeth out with his own brass knuckles”. mini feels loved. spot is proud

mini punches dash’s arm hard enough to bruise once – she was teasing him for his small stature again – and she is immensely proud and has a newfound respect for him. of course, she hits him back and they tussle it out for a bit until spot breaks it up

as spot and race’s relationship continues on, and once the elders aren’t newsies anymore, race takes on more responsibilities taking care of dash and mini. they start to see him take on a fatherly role in their lives 

mini calls him dad once and race cries 

spot struggles a lot with balancing being young and fun with them as an older sister while also being stern and caring like a mother. she doesn’t want to replace their mother in their eyes, but there are moments where she acts as she would and it makes her emotional

she often worries that she didn’t do a well enough job of taking care of them throughout their adolescence. but then she sees them grow up to be the most wonderful, strong, caring and smart people and is relieved to have done an alright job (race argues she did an amazing job)

to dash and mini, the line between spot the sister and spot the mother figure gets blurrier as they grow older. while they do miss their mother – or the idea of a mother – spot has her own special place in their hearts that they wouldn’t give up for anything

i’m SO normal about them, can you tell 

#newsies #newsies uk #uksies #west endsies #spot conlon #sprace #guys please talk to me about them i literally love them sm

[rivertalesien]

People are still sharing their 9/11 memories but it was hard revisiting that day. Mine started with hearing Donnie Bonaduce on the radio screaming about what was going on until I had to turn on The Today Show to figure out what that idiot was on about now...and there it was. I remember Katie Couric's sobriety as they all tried to hold it together for their audience. Watching that second plane hit the tower. There's no words for that.

In the first hours after, there was so much chaos and so many rumors, and we heard very little from any government officials. Bush did make a brief statement in the morning, but then all we heard was of him on Air Force One flying around the country (he doesn't return to DC until later that evening). He basically up and disappeared. We heard Cheney was giving orders and this only made Bush seem even more removed: we all knew who was really in charge.

From the false reports of other bombings and hijackings around the country, this really seemed like something enormous and there was no one out there to calm anyone's nerves or tell us what the plan was. Not even their spokesperson, Condoleeza Rice, made a statement.

Osama bin Laden's name was everywhere on the news, though it was just speculation. It's the GOP who are sending up the "act of war" card and blaming it on bin Laden. We heard Congress was being taken to an undisclosed location and the government was still operational.

I remember the first couple of hours after the planes hit as being significant for the country's trauma and how it would all play out later: the longer we went without a serious breakdown of the events and the scope, without any sign of reassurance or any official details, the deeper the trauma set. The whole country was being shut down. Airplanes everywhere had to land (that week of no planes in the air? That silence was haunting). New York City was being evacuated. We'd never experienced anything like this. My grandparents said even WWII seemed less dramatic by comparison. It felt like we were being spun too fast on a blood-soaked merry-go-round and couldn't get off. My grandfather said at least they'd had Churchill and FDR. We talked like this was the start of World War III.

The first real statement with any substance that we heard from a world leader on the matter was Tony Blair, then Prime Minister of the UK. He wasn't Churchill, but his words and his voice were something of a calm in that storm: we weren't alone. For all I cared, Blair could have been president at that moment.

The whole day was a nightmare, mostly for New York, and it didn't end with Bush's press conference that evening, promising vengeance. I believed it then and I believe it now: it was the wrong thing to say and it set the Worst Timeline in motion.

It didn't take long for the flags to come out, to see them on every door or waving from the back of pickup trucks. It didn't take long before the first stories of attacks on Muslims in the US. It didn't take long for terror to become a way of life, to see it packaged and sold on TV. It didn't take long for our government to give unprecedented power to Bush jr. to wage war wherever he liked for however long he liked. Each day felt like the walls were closing in.

We knew the hijackers were from Saudi Arabia, but two years later we were invading Iraq on the false pretense of them having weapons of mass destruction. They had nothing to do with 9/11.

In the streets that March of 2003 we got a preview of the future: filled with militarized police and media as the mouthpiece of an authoritarian regime. It was the first time being on the wrong end of a can of pepper spray and feeling nothing but disgust at how easy it was to spot all the lies. Media calling protestors "strangers" and "violent" when the only violent aspect was the police. It felt like we'd wandered into the Twilight Zone.

We had eight years of non-stop revelations of what monsters we were becoming.

Obama's tenure wasn't a reprieve. It might have been the commercial break.

But we've never left that purgatory and the far-right is even more determined to keep tunneling us into hell.

I keep wondering if we'll break out of our collective trauma and start over, but if its out there, maybe it's waiting for the next catastrophe.

#9/11

[foxbullfrog]

oh the post is up now! it kinda turned into pointing out how a bunch of the assumptions of the “inherent” motives of beatrice’s parents could be false, and/or not cut & dry, i.e people taking beatrice’s parents being stated to care about appearances as being inherently negative and that they must only care about beatrice only for how she reflects on their appearance

https://www.tumblr.com/ftm-viktor-hargreeves/712137453619838976/i-feel-like-a-lot-of-how-beatrices-parents-are

and like yeah!!! anytime anyone makes any of the ocs american i’m just like 😭😭😭 what on earth did they ever do to deserve this insult

and w ava, silva is literally the most common Portuguese surname and alba is portugese, (also iirc simon said he hced ava as being from canada) so why on earth. english is the “universal language” for better or for worse, american dominates everywhere, and we know ava watched a lot of tv in the orphanage, which there was probably a lot of american media on, so it makes sense that she has an american accent while not being an american,

and yeah!! people, do not account for familial and/or cultural religion enough, especially cultural religion, and white americans are particularly guilty of this (which is ironic given they’re one of the biggest ones who spread that stuff everywhere but i digress) and the american centrism reeks when like, reading a wn fic set in spain and for some reason so many times all of the characters are atheists for some reason??? regardless of if they’re one of the more gen devout believers in the show or if it makes sense for them or whatnot, when spain is like one of the most culturally catholic places ever 😭

like i’m from the philippines which was colonized by spain, and it’s very culturally catholic, like everyone and their mom will do the sign of the cross and pray and go through a lot of the motions, ir regardless of how much they actually believe in it, and from what i’ve heard and learned, spain is very similar in this aspect so, yeah, why all the atheists in these fics lmao

and if the reason is “because they’re queer”.. well hate to break it to you but queer people of all religions exist and being like “religion & queerness can’t co exist” is kinda lowkey culturally western too, just take a look at many cultures had what we’d consider trans & genderqueer people as spiritual leaders or special in some way spiritually or something

apologies for going on a bit of a tangent in your inbox, whoops, i just see a lot of potential in warrior nun for interesting & nuanced explorations of race, nationality, religion & disability and how they can overlap and/or impact someone’s life esp given how canonically (relatively) diverse the wn characters are so it’s :/ when so much stuff just seems to be entirely blacj & white, western pov of stuff

don't apologise I love your pov!!

I really like the point you made about queerness and religion and the way queer people in certain nations interact with religion because I honestly feel like it's overlooked how ingrained culturally religion can be for queer individuals even if they're no longer religious. especially for a nation like Spain where its heavily homogenously a particular religion. like I dont engage with the church anymore but the traditions don't just go away i still celebrate the feast days and wear my st christopher and use the sign on the cross/religious language in my everyday life bc its culturally and socially ingrained, it doesn't mean I agree with the church's teachings or even that I'm a believer.

its funny. despite sharing the same language i feel like america and the uk are such stark opposities on this point. the US has genuine separation of church and state but a very high percentage of the population identify as religious. whereas britain is one of the most atheistic nations in europe but our head of state is also the head of the church and state run schools have kids singing hymns and our national anthem references God. I can still casually call myself Catholic (even if I often qualify it with 'non practicing') because people here likely won't even assume it means I'm religious. its a cultural marker. so I can't believe there's that many people walking around Spain flat-out calling themselves athiests when catholicism defines so much of the cultural make-up of the nation. but I could be wrong! I've spent a very limited amount of time there.

anyway your last paragraph is just *chefs kiss* and it sums my own thoughts on the matter up perfectly so ty

#ask #ftm-viktor-hargreeves #wn #warrior nun #warrior nun meta

[denimbex1986]

'Boppenheimer. Oppenbarbie. Whatever you’re calling the double-bill of the century, wherein Christopher Nolan’s scorching epic Oppenheimer and Greta Gerwig’s kitsch masterpiece Barbie are both released on Friday 21 July, you have to admit that the cultural moment is fast amounting to more than the sum of its parts.

After sustained giggling on social media about the incongruously shared release date – are you team Pink or team Black? Is it better to see Barbie or Oppenheimer first (obviously it goes Oppenheimer, then Barbie for dessert, are you mad)? – it turns out that, for many filmophiles, the idea of watching one right after the other was more than just a joke. Sometimes art imitates life – and sometimes, as with the Boppenheimer memes, life imitates art.

Following the announcement from AMC that 20,000 people have already secured tickets for both of the summer’s biggest blockbusters on the same day, it seems that the British public is not just ready but begging for the emotional whiplash that only chain-smoking Cillian Murphy and Saccarine-sweet Margot Robbie can deliver. I for one can hardly wait; and after the few years we’ve had, is it any wonder that this most atonal of chords – ultimate desolation versus peppy plastic – is resonating so profoundly?

In a simpler time, the distinctions between Barbie and Oppenheimer – their aesthetics, their world views – would have made such audience overlap unthinkable. But this is the UK in 2023, where nothing is straightforward – least of all anything so complicated as feelings. I can’t be the only one yo-yoing between elation and devastation depending on what headline I’m looking at. On one hand, we’re post-pandemic, but mid-cost of living crisis on the other; we’re 13 years into a Tory government and knee-deep in Brexit, but at least Trump’s gone; this month delivered the two hottest days of the planet on record, but, you know, at least it’s summer…?

As you can see, it’s hard to know where to let your emotional dial rest; there’s plenty to be downcast about, and yet, after being locked inside for two years, a distinct sense that life’s too short to waste it crying. Faced with such a stark binary, what’s a girl to do? A middle ground feels impossible – instead, may I interest you in, um, everything at once?

First up, a hedonist sugar-rush of blaring pink, Barbie promises a bingo-board of zeitgeisty Gen-Z nihilism and brilliant shoes. When I was teenager, there was nothing less cool than the hyper-femininity Barbie embodied; the highest (and looking back, the most back-handed) compliment me and my classmates could be paid was “you’re not like other girls”. While we’ve got plenty of room left to grow, recent years have seen that sentiment shift. From 2022’s TikTok bimbo-core moment, celebrating superficial glossiness and its power to paper over a niggling sense of powerlessness, to the long overdue reappraisal of history’s most underestimated it-girls, unapologetic pink was having a moment even before the Barbie film was announced last year. Perhaps softness, femininity, even – whisper it – pink itself, isn’t so bad after all? And when the world’s on fire, what’s the harm in enjoying something sparkly?

On the polar-opposite end of the spectrum is Oppenheimer. At three hours long, Christopher Nolan’s harrowing marathon promises anything but escapism, instead scrutinising the origins of the atomic bomb and mining the conscience of the man who helped to develop it. We’re talking darkest-heart-of-humanity, greatest-tragedies-of-all-time, we’re talking devastation and depravity, the kind of misguided hubris that changes the world for the worse. I expect to exit Oppenheimer with a renewed hopelessness, a heavy heart, and the kind of malaise that only a late lunch with loads of wine can assuage – which is perfect, because cocktails are at 6, and we’re all wearing gingham.

What I’m saying re world-ending catastrophes is, good to keep one’s eye in. I’m also saying that there’s no harm – scratch that, there is essential soul-salving good – in seeking joy and frivolity during life’s darkest moments. Whether we’re conscious of it or not, that’s a seesaw we’re all increasingly familiar with: life is both beautiful and horrifying, people are both awful and extraordinarily generous, and I’m going to see both Oppenheimer and Barbie on 22 July.

See you at the afters for electrolytes and candyfloss, in that order.'

#Boppenheimer #Oppenbarbie #Christopher Nolan #Greta Gerwig #Oppenheimer #Barbie #AMC #Cillian Murphy #Margot Robbie

[uncommon-etc]

A controversial take...

It might just be because I grew up in an era where queer characters, the few that we had, were regularly murdered, sidelined or reduced to punchlines on screen, but I think if you’re not doing any of the above, there is no such thing as bad queer rep.

I’m tired of living a world where, if I want to watch an overtly queer love-story in the cinema, I’ve got to take a two-hour train journey to London, (because beautiful films like Firebird, and Freefall literally only get shown at like four cinemas in the UK, and three of them are in London), I’m sick of doing the exact same thing, as an adult, we did as kids when trying to find characters we related to in media (’he’s never actually said, but he seems pretty queer-coded to me’), and I’m fed up of seeing people hating on writers who give us canonically queer characters for not making their queerness more overt, because you can guarantee they’re getting hate on whatever social media sites straight folks use nowadays for ‘trying to make everything gay’.

I don’t want to live in a world where Our Flag Means Death is a unique, beautiful exception to the rules of how we treat queer characters on screen. I don’t want to live in a world where if I want to go and see the only example of a same-sex love-story that’s central to the plot of a major blockbuster I’m accused to giving money to a terf who, let’s face it, is already richer than the queen, and isn’t going to care whether I see it or not. And I definitely don’t want to keep living in a world where we’re still sharing gifs from the same four shows in a few years time, because they’re the only ones who have managed to do queer representation ‘correctly’.

I want bad queer rep as well as good.

I want queer characters with as many flaws as we regularly let straight characters have, while still rooting for them.

I want queer characters that come across as deeply uncool, who parts of the fandom hate on, not because they’re queer, but because they’re just plain annoying.

I want queer characters who live up to stereotypes, and own them (It’s a Sin did a particularly good job of portraying gay men who had a lot of different sexual partners in the 80s as being no less worthy of care or sympathy than anyone else who contracted AIDS, but few other shows have been brave enough to go there).

I want to turn on the crappiest, most badly-written, procedural crime show completely at random, and see a queer detective, or a queer serial killer, preferably both, and they get it on, enemies-to-lovers style, with very little build-up or meaningful connection.

I want queer himbos who are so dumb you can’t quite work out why they’re still alive.

I want the next Disney prince to be gay.

I want queer superheroes who continue the long and proud superhero tradition of having almost zero personality, and not much going for them beyond being quite good at flying people out of burning buildings.

I want to see queer characters cross-dress, and explore weirdly specific fetishes, and reclaim dated terms for their identities, and do all the other things we no longer see queer characters do, because it’s viewed as bad rep, even if plenty of actual queer people do these things.

I want a queer character in every lame, action-thriller aimed at making a tonne of money from a predominantly male audience.

I want to see love-triangles that turn into polyamorous triads, in the trashiest possible way.    

And I want all of these things because, as a queer person, in a supposedly equal-opportunities media landscape, I want something more realistic than the sainted, beautified, sanitized version of queerness that we’re all too often given, because there is still too much stigma to show us as regular people, and because some writers are still so afraid of getting it wrong that they continue to create worlds in which we don’t exist. 

#lgbt #lgbt representation #lgbt discourse #ofmd #it's a sin #disney #mcu #fbtsod

[notanotherinfjblog]

As a general trend, European infjs you listed seem so much more verbally articulate than North Americans even accounting for factors like intelligence. I saw you mentioned Colin Morgan as not having particularly fluid speech and that you are able to strongly identify with him. When I watch him or Freddie Highmore my reaction is "wow" they are some of the most articulate infjs I have ever seen. At first glance and coming from North America, I would initially have passed them over due to how articulate they are relative to my expectations derived from day-to-day life experience. Is education and emphasis on public speaking just really different in Europe? (I remember Dario Nardi once mentioned European brains of similar types seem wired differently for math as an example.) Thanks for your time.

Ah, now that's a fascinating question, thank you!

I love that you mention this because I often have a bit of trouble with typing North American NPs because I find them vastly different from the Europeans, so the culture is certainly not something to ignore (which is precisely why I always try to include people of different nationalities on my list). But it's still interesting that I don't see that much of a difference between ENTPs from Germany, the UK, France or the Netherlands, for instance, despite there being no less cultural differences between them than there would be between a British and an American ENTP (or so I would assume), and yet it's only the North Americans that throw me off. For example, I've been debating for like six years if Dylan O'Brien is a sensor-passing ENFP or an intuitive-passing ESFP. Who knows? Not me. So there is certainly something going on between Americans and Europeans, but I can't pinpoint what it is exactly.

But it's interesting that you point out the articulateness because it's not really something I've noticed across cultures, but then again, almost all INFJs I've come across are European. Something I could imagine that's going on here is their relative level of introversion compared to the cultural standard. As a European myself, I always find the American average level to be insanely high up on the extroversion scale, so any American INFJ might kind of stay under the radar even more and will thus not really be used to speaking publicly. Speaking for myself here: the louder the people around me are, the less likely I am to speak up and the less likely I am to even be encouraged by those other people to do so (though there is absolutely a trend in which types do this encouragement, which is also interesting). So, in a quieter culture, the INFJ will have more opportunities and feel more comfortable to get a word in. But I do think it's quite interesting that you consider Colin Morgan this articulate because I actually find him to be the most detached of all NJs I've typed and when he's interviewed together with a co-star of any type, you can bet that he will do no more than maybe 20% of the talking at best. But it also depends on the level of comfort in the situation and the level of preparedness. For instance, I teach at university, so I'm forced to play the entertainer once a week, which is certainly not my forte. So I prepare little monologues to some topics that I do not put on the slides and then pretend I just had a thought that I want to share with the class to make it seem like I'm able to have a coherent thought in public (which I'm not). So never underestimate the lengths that INFJs go through to project a particular image of themselves. They know what they're doing in this respect, mostly. I agree on Freddie Highmore though, he's certainly the most articulate INFJ I've ever seen. I actually did consider him as an ENFJ once, but it just never sat right with me. Another thing that might play into it, however, is the very nature of an interview: someone is holding a microphone under your nose and you get to monologue for a bit, which is a vastly different situation compared to having a conversation with eight people sitting together, and in the former case, the Fe just kind of takes over and starts talking, while in the latter, the INFJ will be much more inclined to just silently sit there and watch and listen. Or to explain in it in the words of my ESTJ friend who once said that I, as an INFJ, just don't talk a lot in general, but when you ask me a direct question, you will always get a fully fleshed out answer, but when you then go and ask our mutual ISFP friend, who is also very quiet, that same direct question and she doesn't want to answer it, you will get absolutely nothing from her.

But returning to the cultural influence, I'm actually very curious about the different wiring for maths that you mentioned. Do you think you can find that again and send me the link? That would be great. But something I've noticed in basically all types is how certain types or cognitive functions translate to other cultures. For instance, I find ISTPs in a North American setting much more grumpy than in a British or a German setting. Almost all German ISTPs I've met throughout my life were the chillest people you can imagine, but put them into an American setting and the chill disappears instantly. Or North American ESFJ men tend to emote much less than your average European ESFJ. Or British Ne-doms seem to feel much more comfortable showcasing the weirdness of their Ne than a lot of North American Ne-doms who then also often tend to move more similarly to SPs than to European NPs (for the ENFPs, for instance, compare Donald Glover to Andrew Garfield).

But whether education and an emphasis on public speaking in Europe is different from North America is not something that I can answer. The education systems vary across countries and I don't really know about the systems in other countries than my own. The only thing I can say is that my brother was an exchange student in the US for a year as a teenager and he found school there very strange and superficial (e.g. multiple choice tests is absolutely not something you find in German schools, we have to write pages upon pages of analyses in an exam), but he said that maths class was better in the US. And I once talked to a Korean girl about learning foreign languages in school and we discovered that German schools do put a lot of effort into making us all be able to actually speak the language, while Korean schools focus almost entirely on the grammar, but not on listening or speaking. In German schools, you don't really get by when you're too quiet. You can't sit somewhere in the corner and just listen and learn quietly. If you do, you fail the class. You really are forced to actively participate. But how it is in other European countries, I have no idea.

#typing post #infj #ask

[teenageculturesdead]

Losing the Battle of "App-Diction"

Is it untrue that as young people today we spend more time on our phones scrolling our lives away, than we do actually being in the moment? Is it untrue that we are more likely to believe information we find via social media than we do via our own peers? And is it untrue that we care more about the state of our social feeds than our mental health?

The age of the internet is sick with addiction and it may be too late to find a cure.

We live in an age where there are children who cannot eat, sleep or play without having some sort of device to watch simultaneously — gaining them the well fitted nickname ‘iPad kids’. These same kids, who despite having lived their whole lives in the UK, now refer to there mother as mommy and believe that candy is the correct word for dessert. American accents spill out of these children’s mouths as soon as they learn to talk which is shortly followed by their mannerisms. Reality seems so distant to these children and it will hit them hard as soon as they reach secondary school. No longer is their idea of the ‘High School Musical’ school experience suitable as they come face to face with a contest of ‘who can be the biggest chav?’ and ‘how many fights do you think I can get into before lunch?’. Long gone are their hopes of breaking out into song mid lesson or their dreams of sharing school spirit with their piers. In their new reality they must adapt of be seen as an outcast, a wierdo, a freak, a loner and the list goes on.

Now that’s not to say the screen obsession stops here. No. In fact its the complete opposite. It only worsens. Now these preteens have discovered social media. The cruel world of likes and comments. The place where self acceptance goes to die. The place where these still naïve children lose their innocence.

That may sound dramatic but its only the beginning of the truth and I, myself can attest to that. When I look back on the last few years of my secondary school life, every single piece of drama or gossip can all be traced back to some sort of incident involving social media — and a lot of this is probably still public to this day. Any teen who was largely active on the internet in 2018 will remember the whole drama involving Annie Leblanc (now going by Jules Leblanc), Hayden Summerall and Mackenzie Ziegler. To put a long story short a video leaked of Mackenzie and Hayden kissing at his 13th birthday party whilst he was still dating Annie, this caused absolute uproar across social media as people came to Annie’s side to support her. Some die hard Hannie (Annie and Hayden’s ship name) fans took this to astronomical levels and a close friend of mine at the time was one of them.

‘@kenzie go kill yourself u snake u made Hannie break up’. This was a comment that my friend made publicly on a post that had nothing to do with the situation. A comment that they will forever regret. I remember vividly them getting pulled out of class by our pupil support teacher after word of the comment had spread. I remember that those closest to them tried to stick up for them. I was not one of these people. Through the whole situation all I could think was If they can so confidently say that to someone they doesn’t even know across the internet, what are they capable of saying to people they actually do in person. I just couldn't get my head round how they could say something so horrible to someone without even knowing the truth behind the story. It was YouTube gossip. I constantly thought about how they would have felt if Kenzie had listened to this comment and wondered if they would then have shown remorse. I have since rekindled my friendship with this person in the hopes they have grown up, but I must admit this will always create some sort of distance between us.

And that’s just one story, one person, one situation. Think of the amount of times young people are subject to stories just like this everyday. Think about a time in your life where social media has infected someone’s mind so terribly that it clouded their moral judgement.

I haven’t even touched on the dangers of not getting enough likes on your recent post or being left on delivered for hours on end even know you know that persons active. I don’t even know where to begin on the absolute fear that someone screenshotting a message has. In short there is far too many ill effecting dangers in something that is so prevalent in all of our daily lives for us to accept it. Yet we do.

Why?

Simple. We are sick. Addicted. Obsessed and insecure. We are teenagers and we are losing ourselves to the internet.

#journalism #society #social media #teenagers