#when i used to go to church with my grandma one of the things i liked about it was that

[togrowoldinv]

One-On-One

Milf!Wanda x Female Reader

You’re Wanda’s pastor, so when her husband leaves her you reach out to offer her comfort. She tries to push you away on the account that she doesn’t like you, but that changes when she realizes what you could do for her.

Warnings: Kissing, cursing, public-ish sex, fingering (W receiving), oral (R receiving), Wanda being mean but hot

Note: I was just thinking about milf Wanda again lol. Enjoy this one!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

There is not a strong enough word to describe how much Wanda Maximoff does not like you.

She is outwardly against the way you perform your role in the church and is, in fact, the only member of the search committee that voted against you.

You tried not to take it personally, knowing that Wanda was close with the last pastor.

At first, you tried to make friends with Wanda. You knew you would have to work with her, so why not make things cordial? But Wanda fought against your every attempt to get close to her. Even months into your time at the church, she is still not approving of you.

You got word today that her husband had left her. She is left alone with her two children. Despite how she feels about you, you still have duties as a pastor to check on your congregation. So, you made cookies and drove to Wanda’s house.

Walking up to the door now, you knock and wait for her to open it. It takes a few minutes, but soon one of her young sons arrives at the door.

“Hello Tommy,” you greet him.

“How do you know my name?” He asks.

“I’m Pastor Y/n,” you tell him. “I usually wear a nice robe and am carrying a Bible.” He laughs and nods. He remembers you now. “Is your mom home?”

At that moment, Wanda walks into the living room. She rushes to the door.

“Tommy, what did I tell you about opening the door for strangers?” She lightly scolds him.

“Mom, it’s Pastor Y/n,” comes his defense. Wanda shakes her head, and Tommy walks away.

You’re left with Wanda. She looks you over. She hasn’t seen you in casual clothes before, and her eyes can’t help but fall to your chest. Your blouse is unbuttoned enough to reveal your soft skin. You try to catch her eye, and she snaps out of it.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda asks. Her tone is short.

“I just wanted to offer my condolences. And my grandma’s famous cookies,” you say, holding out the bag.

“I don’t really need your sympathy.”

“I know, but I still thought I’d offer it. After all, Jesus did ask what he could do for us, so we should too. What can I do for you, Wanda? I’m ready to help with anything you need,” you tell her.

“I- I don’t know,” Wanda says. Her usual stiff posture softens a bit.

“How about for now, I come inside, and we can talk or just sit?” You ask.

She steps back and lets you in. The boys run into the kitchen and take a cookie. They go play outside at Wanda’s suggestion they enjoy the nice evening. You recognize that she just needs a break.

It is quiet for a while before Wanda speaks.

“Have you ever been married?” She asks. You shake your head. “Count yourself lucky then.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I think marriage can be beautiful.”

“Maybe,” Wanda says. “Mine wasn’t.”

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

“Ha,” Wanda says sarcastically. “It’s definitely my fault. I’m always the problem.”

“Wanda-”

“No. I am. You know that’s true. We don’t even get along, and it’s once again my fault.”

“I understand you don’t like me much,” you say. “But it’s not your fault. You just don’t want to be my friend. I’ve accepted that.”

“You’ve accepted it? But you’re here,” Wanda says.

“It’s my job,” you say simply. “And I wanted to be sure you’re okay.”

Wanda sighs. You know she’s not okay, but one day she will be. Maybe sooner than she thinks.

“So, what can I do to help you?” You ask her again.

Wanda thinks briefly before speaking again. “Would you consider a personal Bible study with me?”

“I’d love to do that, Wanda. My office tomorrow night?” You ask her.

“I can do that, yes.”

You smile and say your goodbyes to Wanda. The next day Wanda meets you at your office. She is wearing a dress that’s a little low-cut, but you’re not complaining. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to her.

“Welcome, Wanda,” you greet her. “How was your day?”

“Can we just cut to it, y/n?” Wanda asks.

“Oh, um- sure,” you say. You thought she wanted to start a friendship, but it seems all business with her today.

You open up your Bibles together to read and talk. Wanda doesn’t participate much, but instead you often find her looking at you while you’re reading.

Her eyes once again rake over your body. You’re wearing a more conservative shirt today, being in the church building, but she’s still looking.

You decide to say something about it after an hour of the Bible study.

“Wanda,” you begin. “I don’t mean to pry, but you’re really looking me over tonight. And I noticed it yesterday too.”

Wanda’s cheeks blush before she leans in closer to you. Her arms rest on your desk, pretty close to yours.

“Is it a bad thing?” Wanda asks. “I mean, don’t you like being seen?”

“As your pastor, I really should discourage you looking at me like this,” you say.

“And outside of your pastoral duties?” Wanda wonders.

She stands up from her chair and crosses your desk. Sitting on the edge next to where you are, you see her creamy thighs as her dress rides up.

“Outside of my pastoral duties, I’m very attracted to you,” you tell her. She smirks devilishly.

“Even with how mean I’ve been to you?”

You swallow and nod. Her meanness has only spurred you on further since you met her.

Wanda moves closer to you and you scoot your chair back from your desk. She stands upright and approaches you. One of her legs goes around each side of your waist as she lowers herself onto your lap.

“Wanda,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“Shh,” Wanda says, placing a finger on your lips. “No talking. I just want to fuck you.”

You open your mouth to speak again, but Wanda’s lips quickly shut you up. Her lips on yours ignites a fire in your entire body.

Wanda’s hands pull you closer. One grips your waist under your shirt while the other holds your neck tightly. You never realized how perfect her hands are before.

You move to lift her dress further up her legs. She’s wearing light pink, lace panties. You groan at the sight as Wanda kisses your neck.

Your fingers dip into her center and feel the wetness through her panties. The thin material doesn’t prevent her from feeling the way you’re dragging your fingers over her pussy lips.

“Wanda,” you try to speak again. This time, she puts her finger into your mouth to stop you. You close your lips around the digit and suck on it.

Her eyes darken with pleasure at the sight of you being so submissive for her. She takes her hand and unbuttons your pants.

You move her panties to the side as your fingers push into her. She takes your fingers so well. You want to tell her that she takes you so well, but you just kiss her instead. You get the no talking message.

Her moans when you move your fingers in and out are enough to keep you motivated. She’s enjoying this.

“Fuck,” she whimpers when her hips still. She’s coming against your fingers.

“I thought we weren’t talking,” you say.

Wanda responds by kissing you hard and biting your lip. It’s harsh, but it feels so good. She slides off your fingers and then kneels on the ground. Her eyes tell you what she wants.

She finishes undoing your pants and pulls them along with your underwear down your legs just far enough to access you.

“So fucking wet,” Wanda says, breathily. “You love how much I despise you, don’t you? You still get so wet for me.”

“Fuck, Wanda,” you groan out. You guess the no talking rules only apply to you.

She leans in and licks at your pussy. It doesn’t take long for you to feel close to your peak. Wanda’s definitely done this before. She hums with her own pleasure when she feels you start to come against her tongue.

“Oh, god, Wanda!” You shout, probably too loud for a public church. Hopefully your secretary didn’t hear you.

“So good,” Wanda says as she cleans you up with her tongue.

She then stands back up and pulls her dress back down. You pull your pants back up. Wanda sits against your desk again.

“Same time next week?” Wanda asks.

“Wanda, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“And yet, we just did it, didn’t we?” Wanda asks, a glint in her eye. “Come on, Pastor Y/n, a little casual sex never hurt anyone.”

You want to disagree, but all you can think about is what she might taste like. So instead, you stand up and kiss Wanda. She’s taken aback, but responds quickly.

When you pull away, there is a knock at the door. Your secretary, Natasha, is at the door.

“Your next appointment is here,” she says once she’s opened it.

You nod and Wanda steps outside. She leaves with blushing cheeks and a secret smile.

“Can you schedule Wanda again for next week?” You ask Natasha.

“Sure. And I’ll cancel anyone’s appointments you have after her,” Natasha says, a smirk on her lips.

“You’re the best,” you say.

“You don’t pay me enough to listen to you fuck milfs,” Natasha jokes.

“Well then, maybe next time you’ll just come in and join?” You ask, only half seriously. Natasha chuckles, but you secretly hope she considers it.

Until then, you’ll dream about Wanda and how she felt against your lap. And how her tongue felt against your body.

Until then, you’ll be glad that you reached out to Wanda that day.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #milf!wanda #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff fluff

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for changing my (30 FtM) name?

I was born with a very angrogynous/masculine name. For the sake of this post we'll say it's Alex Andrew Lastname. I was bullied for it growing up and can often see on people's faces that they were expecting someone different when they see my name first. I never liked my name growing up because I didn't think I fit the vibe. I'm just not an "Alex". But honestly, if I ever fully pass, that could change.

I recognize I've hit the trans guy jackpot. I've seen quite a few trans men change their names to my birth name, first and middle. Logically, I'd never have to change it for safety or validation reasons.

I've been using a different name for years now. My partner of 10 years doesn't know me by another name and cringes when we have to use Alex for legal paperwork. This name has been public knowledge to everyone including my family for about 8 years. We'll say this new name is "Elijah" (it is not)

The problem arises when I bring up my final legal name choice to my mom.

"Why that? I would have never named you that. I don't think it suits you." I double down and explain I like the name and don't mind the religious connotation (we went to church but she's always appropriated eastern religions, I am not religious) Additionally, SHE should have been using it all this time, even when I'm not there. She complains. "Can't I still call you Alex? I mean, I gave birth to you, I should still be able to call you Alex. I gave you that name because it was androgynous and cool, why do you want to change it?" I tell her again, no. If she's the only person deadnaming me, other people will feel they have the right to. "Can I call you Al?" No, sorry. "Can I call you Andrew? I named you after your uncle, he didn't do anything wrong."

Because she's pushing back so much, I tell her the truth. Growing up, she was abusive and negligent. When she did use my name, she said it like she hated me. When I was in trouble, when she was disagreeing with me, when she bullied me. She didn't really say my name in rare situations where she was proud because she was jealous and focused on making sure everyone knew I was cool and "unique" because I was "her kid". Because of it, I cringe when I hear my birth name. It's a strong name, a good name, even, but it makes me feel small and tired. I told her I was proud of her going to therapy, that we could start over, but that I'm asking to be respected as a person.

Shortly after I was born, she asked my grandma to draw up a tattoo of my deadname. It's a large, dark piece on her entire lower back. I told her I don't expect her to cover it, that she can keep it and mourn the name however she feels, but I'd like to get a matching, small tattoo with her to celebrate my new name if she's interested. She didn't really respond. She finally said she still doesn't like the name Elijah, but asked if she could call me Eli (yeah, obviously)

Despite all of this reaching some sort of compromise, I've heard I've made a bad decision from both sides. Some think I was too gentle and understanding and should have essentially said "fuck you this is my name take it or leave it". Others think I should have kept my deadname because there was nothing wrong with it, I'm being too emotional about it, or that I'm choosing to inconvenience others by changing things age 30. There's also the idea that no one really likes their name so it's not a great reason to change it.

AITA for having no real reason to change my name and doing so anyway?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[onmyyan]

Hi I have cowboy brain rot permanently 👐✨ I'm so full of ideas abt him. You move into town and Spring is beautiful in the country, and the community seems tight-knit. So close in fact that dinner parties or potlucks are common- usually it would be church potlucks but who cares honestly. The real kicker is he called in a favor to host and then begs you for help, only for it to get weirdly domestic while you're helping get ready. He directs all compliments to you and is schmoozing so much that you're not surprised that people seem to think you're his girlfriend - by the end of the night, you are, anyway.

And then summer rolls around and you're sun tanning and getting a visit from Ash- you explain you might as well since you can't get cool in the house, the ac got busted somehow (there's an Ash's boot-shaped dent that he's a little ashamed of, but your grandmother is out of town, and he's with you, so there's no real danger- and now he gets to install a better one later.) He offers to take you to a swimming hole on his land, just the two of you. It's the perfect place to confess (some) of his love for you.

Eventually in the fall, your grandma starts hinting you should move in with him, and then outright demanding it of you, and you wonder when she got so progressive. But it becomes clear that it's just because shes getting older and is convinced that you're already married, and it's upsetting her that you're leaving him lonely. So it feels a little early, but you move in for her wishes, reassuring yourself you're still close by if she needs you. She is a little confused in her older age, but it's at least partially because Ash has been telling her y'all were married and he missed you.

And finally, it's Christmas- you've been living with him for a while, and none of your prospects outside of town panned out- jobs you applied for didn't get back to you, certification programs didn't reply, and your connections with friends back home seem to have dried up. Your last living relation in town passes, and it's up in the air (at least in your mind) if you'll be leaving - there's nothing holding you here by familial obligation, but now you have nowhere else to go. Ashley convinces you to stay with him- you couldn't keep your grandmother's house due to debt, and with no back up available outside of town, you really don't have any other choice but to stay right where you are. You aren't aware of how many favors he's called in to make things go the way they have for you, how many messages and job offers he's intercepted, just to keep you.

Me @ you because You've fed us all with this ask my lawd you are so talented I LOVE THIS Ashley subtle but absolutely diabolical manipulation, his smoothness with his yandere actions, how you'd have no idea what hit you by the time he got a ring on your pretty finger

#yananswers #anon submission #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #ashley hunt #ashley x reader #Ashley hunt x reader

[itsokbbygrl]

Old Dogs and New Tricks

Summary: Sarah Miller has always loved her dad, maybe especially today. Years of long days at work and longer nights taking classes and studying have lead to this--his college graduation day. When the Miller family is interrupted during their impromptu picture time, Sarah thinks there might be one more person who could love her dad, too.

Word Count: 3k, one-shot

Rating: T (some swearing)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader/OFC

Tags: FLUFF, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF, BRUSH YOUR TEETH AND FLOSS AFTER THIS ONE!!!, mild swearing, Sarah Miller POV, briefly Joel Miller POV, likely some University of Texas at Austin graduation inaccuracies, adult learner gets his diploma yay, Uncle Tommy is an A+ wingman, almost zero description of reader aside from having hair long enough to tuck behind an ear, wearing a dress, and having a shimmering laugh, but Joel and Sarah both refer to reader as a woman and use she/her pronouns, no y/n, no 2nd person perspective, reader/OFC has an unspecified family outside of 1 sister

A/N: Helloooooooooo this is the first thing I've ever published here holy shiiiiiiit. I was scrolling on Pinterest for interior design inspo and came across this adorable photo and immediately went, "omg Joel and Sarah core."

So naturally, I had to write it and set it in the HBO TLOU timeline. Sarah is 10 and we're going to suspend our disbelief about the technology of the year 2000 a little bit okay??? Digital cameras were not that good and very expensive and most people still did not have cell phones, but THE MILLERS DO OK. Anyway without further ado, I give you that (not so) old man doing something adorable. I hope you like it! My DMs and inbox are always open (yes I lovingly refer to you all as my little chickens, come say hi to me!). Reblogs and comments are appreciated per usual. 💖 Banner and title card made by me with the help of Canva :)

Sarah loves a lot of things about her life–her soccer team, her fourth grade teacher, all of the friends she’s made in her 10 years of life–but if you asked her what she loved most of all, she would say her family, hands down. Her family is small–just she, her dad, and her uncle Tommy–but their love for each other is anything but. It’s been the three of them her whole life and she’s never felt like there were any missing pieces, until one fateful Saturday in May. 

Sarah has spent nearly her entire life being told how proud her dad is of her, but today is a day Sarah is determined to show her dad how proud she is of him. She knows he tries to hide how stressed he’s been the last few years, how tired, but she’s a smart girl and she, to her dad’s chagrin, notices everything. Sarah almost can’t contain her excitement for her dad as her uncle Tommy parks his truck in the vast expanse of the University of Texas at Austin’s football stadium parking lot. She hops out of the backseat and slams the door like Tommy taught her to make sure it closes all the way on its rusty old hinges, and then bends at her waist to brush any pesky wrinkles from her dress. She wanted to look extra nice for today, trying to tame her thick, curly hair by tying it back in a low bun and fashioning her favorite flower pin on the side, donning her favorite sundress and the sandals her grandma said were nice enough for Sunday church. If they were nice enough for grandma’s church, they were definitely nice enough for her dad’s graduation, she figured. 

Sarah finds Tommy around the front of the truck as he’s pulling their entry tickets from his wallet. “Here you go, kiddo,” he says, extending a ticket to her with a smile. She replies her thanks before following him towards the imposing stadium ahead. Tommy helps lead them through the crowd, consistently checking to make sure she’s still near, Sarah offering him a smile each time she catches him looking. Their seats are up high, in the top third of the stadium bleachers. Sarah thinks she hears Tommy mutter something about only getting good seats if you donate a bunch of money under his breath, but she isn’t sure what exactly he means, so she ignores it. 

“Do you know where dad’s going to be?” Sarah asks her uncle. She wants to know where to look, doesn’t want to miss a minute of this, and she’s dubbed herself unofficial photographer for the day, so she wants to make sure she knows where to point the camera at all times. 

“Not yet, honey. We’ll keep our ears open, they usually announce each college as they come in, so we’ll know when to look for your dad,” Tommy reasons. 

“Good plan,” Sarah nods in return, eyes focusing back on the field ahead. 

Once it appears the seats have nearly filled, Sarah checks her trusty watch and sees the time has just passed 2:00, the scheduled start time for today’s ceremony. As if she triggered it herself, her head perks up as the sound of brass instruments rings out through the stadium, signaling the start of the ceremony. She watches the entrance of students intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of her dad. 

Sarah turns in her seat and asks, “Uncle Tommy, can I have the camera, please?” 

Tommy fishes in his pocket and pulls out the requested camera, placing it in Sarah’s open palm. “Yup, got it right here. You gonna be on photography duty today?” Tommy chuckles as he watches Sarah’s brows pull together just like her dad’s as she fiddles with the buttons on the camera until the settings are to her liking. 

“You bet,” Sarah answers, poking her tongue between her teeth as she looks down at the small digital viewfinder. “Can’t see anything, gonna use the zoom and see if I can see any better through the screen.”

Tommy lets out a low whistle, “Smarty pants over here, did we forget your cap and gown? Shouldn’t you be down there?” He jokes and pokes her in the ribs to make her giggle. 

“Uncle Tommy! Stop!” She laughs. “I’m trying to focus!”

“Alright, alright, kiddo. I’ll let you focus. Let me know if you find him.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Sarah salutes in return, earning a chuckle out of her uncle. 

The McComb School of Business is announced and Sarah sits up a little straighter, refocusing her efforts to capture every important moment. She squints against the afternoon sun, determined to find her dad amongst the long line of pending graduates. 

“There!” she points and Tommy follows her finger, trying to find what she’s seeing. “See his hat? I told him he needed to put something on it so we could find him and he told me to go wild, so I did. I knew that orange glitter glue would come in handy.”

Tommy spots him then, laughing when Sarah shows him the picture she’s snapped on the little screen, Joel’s graduation cap adorned with orange glitter glue that reads, “This old dog learned new tricks,” accompanied by two clip art dogs pasted on opposite corners. 

“D’you come up with that all on your own, smarty pants?” Tommy asks her. 

“Sure did,” Sarah chuffs. “Dad always says, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” when he doesn’t want to learn stuff like the camera or the computer, so I thought it would be funny,” she finishes with a shrug. Tommy silently laughs, his shoulders gently shaking, and Sarah smiles to herself. 

If there’s one thing Sarah will take away from this day it’s that graduation ceremonies are long and boring. There are about two minutes where she focuses intently as her dad’s row rises to make their way up to the stage. She diligently keeps the camera pointed his way, snapping pictures every so often. As he prepares to take the stage, she and Tommy stand from their seats. 

“Joel Alejandro Miller,” the announcer reads. Sarah and Tommy whoop and cheer as Joel crosses the stage, Sarah keeping the camera trained on her dad, making sure to press the shutter a few times as he shakes hands with the chancellor and receives his diploma. The rest of the ceremony goes by relatively uneventfully, until the graduates are instructed to stand and change their tassels from right to left. There’s a murmur through the audience and then the students erupt in a spirited rendition of, “The Eyes of Texas.” Sarah smiles as she watches the new graduates laugh and sing, throwing arms around friends and pointing to the sky. Once the song ends, the graduates then whoop and throw their caps into the air, and Sarah raises the camera once more to snap a couple final pictures. 

The crowd starts to dissipate, attendees making their way towards the exits to find their respective graduates. Sarah looks over the railing of the ramp as she and Tommy work their way down from their seats and watches as the mass of bodies move through the corridor, thinking about how they resemble a school of fish, almost liquid in the way they shift to accommodate obstacles in the hall. 

After a few minutes of shuffling, she and Tommy find the exit out of the stadium, heading towards the spot they designated to meet Joel after the ceremony. Sarah spots him first, poking Tommy in the arm and pointing his way. Tommy nods in acknowledgement, giving her the okay to head over. She looks both ways to make sure the coast is clear before breaking out in a jog. 

“Dad!” she calls, waving her arms to get Joel’s attention. His natural scowl drops the minute he sees her, face breaking out into a wide grin, and opens his arms as she rushes forward. Sarah meets him with force, earning a quiet, “Oof,” from her dad as she wraps her arms around his middle and hugs him tight. 

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” Sarah tells him, not letting go, but tipping her head back to look him in the eyes. If she notices the extra glimmer along his waterline, she doesn’t say anything. He pulls her in tighter, giving her small shoulders a squeeze, and Sarah feels the deep rumble of his laughter in her cheek. 

“Thanks, babygirl. I’m so glad you came,” Joel tells her, rubbing up and down her back before letting her go from his embrace. 

“Hey old man, proud of you brother,” Tommy greets Joel with a smile and a hug, the brothers exchanging firm pats on the back before separating. Joel gives him a half smile and thanks him for coming and for bringing Sarah.

Sarah steps back from their little group and realizes her dad has already taken off his cap and gown, and that just won’t do. 

“Dad, where’s your hat and robe?” Sarah chides, putting her hands on her hips and giving him a serious look. 

“It was hot, so I took them off,” Joel answers. 

“Well, put them back on! We need to get pictures!” Sarah iterates, raising the camera in front of her dad’s face and giving it a shake. 

Joel sighs, but relents. “Alright, alright, gimme a second, kiddo, then you can play photographer.” They find an open spot on the lawn and Sarah powers up the camera again, using the viewfinder to ensure the shot is lined up just right. 

“Ok, 1, 2, 3…say, “Hook ‘em!”” Sarah says. 

Joel smiles and entertains his daughter’s request. “Hook ‘em!” he says, smiling for the camera. 

“Ok, this one, hold up your diploma,” Sarah requests and Joel again complies. “Can we do one more?” Sarah asks. 

Joel gives her a nod, “Sure thing, honey.”

“Ok, this one, do the Hook ‘Em horns,” Sarah says and she does the gesture with her own small hand. Joel mimics his daughter and smiles for the camera as she snaps the picture. She pulls up the recent shots and turns the camera towards her dad to review them together, unaware that they’ve been watched for the last few minutes. 

“Excuse me,” a soft voice interrupts Sarah and Joel from their scrolling and they look up to find a new member has joined their party. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just saw your daughter taking pictures and I thought y’all might want a few together?” Wow, pretty, Sarah thinks as she assesses the stranger. 

Joel clears his throat and Sarah turns her head to see her dad’s cheeks have flushed a new shade of pink as he stammers out a, “That’s awful kind of you, darlin’. Thanks for offerin’, we’d love that.” Sarah’s mouth ticks up into a smirk, the dimple she shares with her dad crescenting her cheek. She turns to Tommy and they share a knowing look. 

“Thank you, ma’am. You just press this button here,” Sarah hands over the camera and shows the pretty stranger how to operate it.

“Got it, thanks, sweetie,” she replies before bringing the camera’s viewfinder up to her eye and lining up the duo. “Ok, big smiles,” she says and clicks the shutter. She smiles and moves the camera away from her face for a moment to direct, “How about we get one with both of you showing us your best “Hook ‘Em” next,” before once again snapping the photo. “Alright, let’s do one more. Gimme your best silly faces!” and she lets out a shimmering laugh as she presses the shutter a final time. 

“Perfect,” she says to the small family, smiling and handing the camera to Joel, their fingers brushing briefly as the camera exchanges hands before both of their eyes lift to meet. Tension lingers only for a moment at the contact before they both let out breathy chuckles. The stranger lifts her hand and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Joel’s gaze following the motion, Sarah’s gaze locked on her father. 

“This was real kind of you, darlin’. Thanks again for helping us out,” Joel says, trying to extend the moment just a little longer. 

“Oh, it was nothin’. My pleasure, really,” she replies in kind, waving him off, her gaze dropping shyly to the ground. “Well,” she continues, bringing her gaze back to Joel’s, “I better head back or my sister,” she turns her torso and gestures to where her party is standing and carrying on conversation, “will never let me hear the end of it, how I deserted her on her own graduation day after she spent torturous hours sitting through mine a few years back,” She chuckles softly and clasps her hands in front of her, kicking out one foot and cocking her hip slightly to the side. 

“Alright, s'pose we better let you get on back then,” Joel replies. Sarah catches a sadness in her dad’s eyes at their pretty stranger’s words. “Thanks again…I know, I know, I’ll stop,” he laughs when she gives him a stink eye at his persistent gratitude. “Have fun with your family. And pass on our congrats to your sister.”

“I will,” she nods before taking a visible breath and waving goodbyes to the three Millers. She turns and heads back towards her own family. Sarah watches her dad watch her the entire time she goes, turning to Tommy and sharing an unspoken conversation before Tommy breaks the silence. 

“Alright, brother, why don’t you say hi to your fancy college buddies before we head out. I’ll entertain the sprout for a few minutes. Then we can head out for ice cream,” Tommy says, pulling Sarah into his arms and giving her a soft noogie while she cringes good naturedly. 

“Uncle Tommy! Stop, you’re going to mess up my hair!” Sarah complains. Tommy relents and Joel eyes the pair suspiciously, but ultimately agrees. He gives the camera back to Sarah for safekeeping, and she dramatically tells him she’ll protect it with her life. He laughs before leaving the pair on the lawn to find a few of his classmates and professors. 

Once he’s out of eye and earshot, Sarah and Tommy form a quick plan and spring into action. 

It’s getting late, the sun set, the evening sky dark and air heavy with the remaining heat and moisture from the day. Joel is sat in his makeshift home office at his messy desk, camera in hand, flipping through the pictures Sarah took earlier in the day. She got some pretty good shots, rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly when he realizes how gaudy his cap looked from the crowd. 

He gets to the pictures of he and Sarah together and smiles, loving how happy his little girl looks, how proud she clearly is of him, how much fun they have together. He tries and fails not to think of the beautiful woman who took those pictures earlier, of the jolt of electricity that zipped up his arm and ran through his heart when their fingers touched, and he especially tries not to think about how he never managed to get her name. 

Just when he thinks he’s gotten to the end, the silly faces he and Sarah made only hours ago staring back at him through the small camera screen, he notices the number in the upper righthand corner. 24/25. There’s one more. He flips to it curiously, finding a special face looking back at him. A wide toothy smile, hair still tucked behind one ear, gorgeous little sundress that should have been illegal to wear out in public, and…holding a piece of paper? There’s something written on there and Joel desperately wants to know what it says, but for the life of him, he can’t remember how Sarah told him to work the goddamn zoom. 

He flips to the picture before, of him and Sarah making silly faces, swallows his pride and prepares himself for the shit he knows he’s about to get from his daughter before bellowing out, “Sarah! Babygirl, can you come here, please? Need you to help me with the camera!”

Sarah bounds into the room, sly grin already plastered on her face. Joel holds out the camera and asks, “How do you work the zoom on this thing again?”

Sarah walks over to her dad and points out the buttons he needs to use. “These right here, the plus sign zooms in, the minus sign zooms out, and you use these,” she moves her finger down to the directional arrow buttons that form a small circle on the lower right side of the camera, “to move the picture around when you’re zoomed in. Make sense?”

“Clear as mud,” Joel replies, giving the buttons a try to make sure he has it before dismissing his daughter, thanking her for her help, and thinks he hears her mutter something about old dogs and new tricks as she leaves the room. 

Joel turns his head to make sure Sarah isn’t hanging around before flipping back to the last picture on the digital version of a camera roll. He does as Sarah instructed, presses the plus button until the picture is zoomed in enough that he can read the paper being held up to the camera. No fucking way. He blinks, squints, rubs his eyes, and looks again, but his eyes did not deceive him. Written on the paper in a looping scrawl is undeniably a phone number. Joel leans back in his chair and brings his hand up to his mouth before pulling it down and resting on his lap. He stares at the screen for a moment in disbelief before letting out a low chuckle. He looks away from the screen and over towards the office entrance again, thinking about Tommy and Sarah and their insistence to hang back and let Joel congratulate his classmates and thank his professors. 

“Son of a bitch,” Joel murmurs to himself. He shakes his head and looks back at the screen. He holds his gaze there for a minute, then one more, before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, punching in the number and hitting the green call button before he loses his nerve. 

The line rings once, twice, three times, and Joel thinks maybe this was a mistake, calling a relative stranger after a brief (at most) meeting, but then the ringing stops and a newly familiar voice answers with a soft, “Hello?”

Joel smiles as his anxieties drift away, “Hey, darlin’. Nice to hear your voice again.”

END

Tagging some friends who might be interested: @5oh5 @javierpena-inatacvest @swiftispunk @sawymredfox

#holy shit i actually posted something #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us au #pre outbreak!joel #LJ writes #IT'S A TAG IT'S OFFICIAL

[jollyreginaldrancher]

Realistic Yellowjackets X reader hcs

• Natalie would Dutch oven you

• Van would make you sit through really shitty movies

• Taissa would eat your fucking dog

• Jackie would steal all your goddamn hoodies

• Misty would be chill but your shit would occasionally go missing and she'd always be the one to find them. Which like, okay, get your validation but don't make me late for my grandma's birthday party, she's turning so so old and doesn't have the time to wait around for me to find my keys.

• Nat would have rank breath from all the smoking and the alchohol.

• Van would also have bad breath unfortunately, because her diet mostly consists of funyuns and Cheeto puffs. Her mom doesn't cook and nobody taught her so she mostly gets junk food to fill in the gaps in her meals. She practically sweats McNuggies.

• Lottie would spend so much time using her gentle giant powers for the good of womankind that she would constantly flake on you. "Babe, you missed our wedding" "I had to get this kitten off this tree"

• Natalie would also have a sadistic streak with certain things that don't really matter. Not like consent or anything fucked up like that, but she would tickle you until you cried and maybe even pissed yourself a little. And she would have no boundaries. Like she would follow you to the bathroom like a cat from the first date and she wouldn't take the hint that you need privacy to change your tampon. You'd be trying to hint that you want her out by saying "I need to change tampons" and she would start rooting through her pockets for one because she'd think that's your way of asking for one. Bless her, she's a himbo.

• Laura Lee would drag you to so many church events -as a friend- and unintentionally tease you constantly and be so damn innocent in public that you'd think you're going crazy.

• Shauna wouldn't let you out of her sight. She would be so possessive and suspicious for the drama. She would broach the subject of three ways or opening the relationship and you would think she's asking because she has feelings for her best friend but it's a trap.

• Mari thinks she's funny but her jokes just come off as mean. She's even more vicious when stressed. You'd take her ice skating and her skates would snag and she would curse your mother.

• Natalie also smells but less like funyuns and more like cheap booze and cigarettes. She also doesn't wash her face and while you're not materialistic her beauty is a fluke. She'd be walking around all winter with chapped lips, trying to kiss you and scratching the shit out of your thighs with them.

• Taissa constantly trying to beat you at shit would get really fucking annoying. She would turn random shit into a game too just to get an extra W on you. She'd be like "race you to the curb" while crossing roads and making you sweat and you would say you don't care but she's lowkey just trying to get you to be rougher with her in a roundabout way. She'd be so indirect it would piss you off.

Like "what do you want for dinner babe?" And she would tell you to pick and just shoot down all your suggestions before just settling on the same thing she always picks.

• Jackie would fill your social calendar to the brim. You'd call her, asking her to *1996 equivalent of Netflix and chill* and she'd be like "you mean you're not coming to the party? And you would have to check your calendar only to find out it was an impromptu thing that she didn't even ask you to, because she just assumed you were coming.

• Shauna would complain about other people constantly but still act friendly with them for the most part giving you mixed signals. Like, "babe, do we hate them or not?". It's complicated though. It's always complicated because she lives for the drama tbh.

• Misty's autistic hyperfixations would take over her life and sometimes she would simply stop existing for all intents and purposes. You'd run into her at the grocery store as you're about to hang up missing posters and she'd be sporting the biggest eye-bags and when you'd ask her where she's been she'd go into detail about niche fandom info. Like how fucked up the Hiro episode of Thomas the tank engine is.

• You would be exhausted all the time from all the self defence classes you would need to take to fight off Lottie's other suitors.

• Taissa would definitely bully you like she's not the biggest nerd on the team. She would pick on you for your lunch box meanwhile she studies religiously before every test and one time she stressed so bad before a test that she threw up.

#Yellowjackets #Yellowjackets headcanons #Natalie Scatorccio #Van Palmer #Taissa Turner #Misty Quigley #Shauna Shipman #Jackie Taylor #hcs #headcanons #yellowjackets headcannons #headcannons #my banies #mine #thoughts #yellowjackets x reader

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Acc to spare, when does Harry actually claim he proposed to Meghan?? And when did he claim to have asked the queen for permission? I believe she said "I spoke I have to say yes then" to his question.

From whatever i had read so far, I thought the permission happened in Scotland, or just after the queen got back from Balmoral. So sometime late August or early September 2017. And the proposal happened in Sept 2017. So right around the time you say the BRF Archie page was forst set up. And when suits not being renewed rumours started. What do you think was happening there? Meghan finally got her claws all in and started flexing about how she will be one of the KP bosses soon?

So below the jump are excerpts from both Spare and Tom Bower's Revenge on Harry asking The Queen for permission and the proposal.

But essentially, both works contradict each other and the key dates mentioned don't line up to the September 4, 2017 date from the webpage.

In Spare:

Harry says that Meghan and The Queen met at the Royal Lodge "by accident" in October 2016 - he was taking Meghan to meet Fergie, there were no corgis, Meghan's curtsy was flawless, and The Queen asked about Donald Trump.

Harry writes that he asked The Queen for permission to marry Meghan at the end of October in Sandringham on a shoot. This would have been the weekend of October 27 - 29, 2017.

He proposed on November 4th shortly after Meghan officially moved to London. (It sounds like he proposed maybe between 1-3 days after she moved.) Harry writes that they kept the engagement a secret for about two weeks, but the way he wrote it, it's dripping with a kind of venom, in a way, that makes one wonder if the engagement was leaked or if they were forced to announce the engagement when they did.

But when you look at the calendar, two weeks after November 4th is November 18th - a whole nine days before the official announcement. So what happened to the missing week?

In Revenge:

Bower presents them going to The Queen for permission to marry as a kind of fait accompli - it sounds like they were engaged first, then went to see The Queen for permission at Buckingham Palace and that this meeting was also Meghan's first introduction to The Queen.

Bower says this happened at the end of October, 2 weeks after the Invictus Games ended on October 12th. This would be the weekend of October 27-29, 2017 - so at least the dates that the Queen was asked for permission align between Harry's version and Bower's version.

The corgis were there in Bower's version of events. (Which aligns with Harry saying the corgis were there the first time he introduced Meghan to The Queen in the engagement interview.)

Bower also suggests that The Queen felt she had to say yes because of Meghan's PR saying they had already met; ergo, that the Queen felt she couldn't say no because it would have been a Thing.

It is interesting that Bower specifically calls out the 2017 Invictus Games ending on October 12 when the official record has it ending on September 30. It's most likely a factchecking error, but it's surprising coming from Bower.

Quotes below the jump!

Quick note first - I cannot stand how they formatted Spare, so in the sections below, I'm using my own formatting to make it a much more sensical (to me, at least) read. If you read Spare yourself, you will see that the formatting is a tragedeigh.

In Spare, Harry describes Meghan meeting the Queen in Part 3, Chapter 15:

Meg came back to London a week later. October 2016. We lunched with [Mark Dwyer] and his family, and I introduced her to a few other close mates. All good. Everyone loved her. Emboldened, I felt the time had come for her to meet my family. She agreed. First stop, Royal Lodge. o meet Fergie, because Meg already knew Fergie's daughter Euge, and Jack, so this seemed a logical baby step. But as we neared Royal Lodge, I got word on my phone. Granny was there. She'd popped in. On her way home from church back to the castle. Meg said: "Fun! I love grandmas." I asked if she knew how to curtsy. She said she thought so. But she also couldn't tell if I was serious. "You're about to meet the Queen." "I know, but it's your grandma." "But she's the Queen." We pulled into the driveway, drove across the gravel, parked next to the big green box hedge. Fergie came outside, somewhat aflutter, and said: "Do you know how to curtsy?" Meg shook her head. Fergie demonstrated once. Meg imitated her. there wasn't time for a more advanced tutorial. We couldn't keep Granny waiting. As we walked towards the door, Fergie and I both leaned into Meg, whispering quick reminders. "When you first meet the Queen, it's Your Majesty. Thereafter it's just Ma'am. Rhymes with ham." (Quick aside: I'm pretty sure they did not say this. This is 100% the script from the movie, The Queen, and I'm pretty sure it's verbatim.) "Just, whatever you do, don't talk over her," we both said, talking over each other. We entered the large front sitting room and there she was. Granny. THe monarch. Queen Elizabeth II. Standing in the middle of the room. She turned slightly. Meg went straight to her and dropped a deep, flawless curtsy. "Your Majesty. Pleasure to meet you."

(Harry goes on to describe how The Queen asked Meghan about Donald Trump, since this was right before the 2016 election, and Meghan expertly pivoted to Canada and the Commonwealth. There are no dogs present in Harry's recollection of Meghan's introduction to The Queen.)

Harry describes the engagement beginning in Part 3 - Chapter 32. It takes place sometime after the 2017 Invictus Games. Harry calls Ed Lane Fox, his former private secretary, 'Elf.'

I told Elf and Jason that I wanted to propose. Congratulations, both men said. But then Elf said he'd need to do some fast digging to find out the protocols. There were strict rules governing such things. Rules? Really? He came back days later and said before doing anything I'd need to ask Granny's permission. I asked him if that was a real rule, or the kind we could work around. "Oh no, it's very real." (Harry describes how self-absorbed he is and recaps some plot points from The Crown.) And so, heart full of fear, mouth full of dust, I turned to the calendar. With Elf's help I circled a weekend in late October. A family shooting trip at Sandringham. Shooting trips always put Granny in a good mood. Perhaps she'd be more open to thoughts of love? (Harry talks about how he thinks Charles and William would talk him out of asking The Queen to marry Meghan if they knew he was going to do it and he recaps how William had been "pretty discouraging" about the relationship. Then he blathers on about how Charles told him there's no money to support Meghan and how Charles doesn't like anyone taking attention from him. He describes the shoot and how anxious he is to get time alone with The Queen.) After the final drive the party scattered. Everyone finished picking up their birds and returned to the Land Rovers. I saw Granny jump into her smaller Range Rover and drive out to the middle of the stubble field. She began looking for dead birds, while her dogs hunted. There was no security around her, so this looked to be my chance. I walked out to the middle of the stubble field, fell in alongside her, began helping. (blah blah blah, interior monologue, my heart cannot go on without Meg but I can't disobey my Queen.) I realized that I needed to get to it, without one second more of hesitation, so as Granny lowered the tailgate, as the dogs leaped up, as I thought of petting them but then remembered I had (description of dead birds and more interior monologing about how much he loved The Queen)...I saw her waitingf for me to speak--and not waiting patiently. Her face radiated: "Out with it." I coughed. "Granny, you know I love Meg very much, and I've decided that I would like to ask her to marry me, and I've been told that, er, that I have to ask your permission before I can propose." "You have to?" "Um. Well, yes, that's what your staff tell me, and my staff as well. That I have to ask your permission." I stood completely still, as motionless as the birds in my hands. I stared at her face but it was unreadable. At last she replied: "Well, then, I suppose I have to say yes."

Harry goes on to describe how offended he is by her reaction and admits he's so self-absorbed he doesn't realize it was permission granted.

Chapter 34 is about a time Harry and Meghan hosted William and Kate for dinner. William had a cold, Meghan offered her homeopathic "cures" and William found it charming while Kate was rude, and describes Meghan being in ripped jeans while Kate is dressed up. Chapter 35 is Harry's narration of Meghan moving to London and his description of how he proposed: outside in the garden because he wanted it to be like when they were in Botswana:

We hurried inside, finished our celebration in the warmth of the kitchen. It was November 4. We managed to keep it secret for about two weeks.

From Revenge, Tom Bower writes in Chapter 19:

To please Harry, the Queen agreed to ditch centuries of tradition. Meghan would be fast-tracked into the Royal Family before the wedding. Two weeks after the Invictus Games ended on 12th October, Harry introduced Meghan to the Queen in Buckingham Palace. Over tea and sandwiches, the monarch formally approved her grandson's engagement. The 91 year old had no choice. Apparently, she had already met Meghan in Windsor Park. In a fleeting, unexpected encounter, Meghan would claim to have performed an unrehearsed botched curtsey. During the formal meeting in the Palace, Harry would describe how the Queen's corgis, who had for the previous 33 years barked at him, lay at Meghan's feet and wagged their tales. Meghan described the scene as 'very sweet.' (Meghan moves to London. Bower talks about how the institution isn't welcoming to married-ins. They ran off Diana, Fergie, and Anne's first husband, and threatened to do the same to Kate till William laid down the law.) Meghan was the beneficiary of those misjudgements. In anticipation of the engagement's formal announcement, Palace officials agreed that to ease her transition into the family she needed guidance about the restrictions accepted by all members of the Royal Family. Harry would claim that he had forewarned Meghan: 'You know what you're letting yourself in for. It's a big deal and it's not easy for anybody.' If so, no one directly asked Meghan whether she understood that the British monarchy had only survived - with the support of 70 per cent of Britons - by seaking to remain soberly uncontroversial. No one spelled out to her that monarchists were unaware that most of the changes made to ensure the Crown's modernisation and survival had been imperceptible. But then, no one recalls that Meghan asked any detailed questions before the engagement was officially announced on 27th November, 2017.

#ask #pr shenanigans #brf #sussexes #theories #rumors #spare #tom bower #revenge

[the-ace-with-spades]

So as a Polish person, I both love and hate Polish! Ice as a headcanon, but my grandma is half-Italian and somehow this manifested into Italian! Mav so here we go (spoiler: there's a lot of food involved):

Mav's mom was first generation Italian born in NYC, lived in Staten Island until she married Mav's dad - her family was from Bologna

Mav, despite the hero worship he had for his dad, was mamma's boy

she could speak Italian well and did so around the house but never taught Mav, and what little Italian he could speak, he forgot once she died and he wasn't around the language

she, however, left him their family cookbook, entirely written in Italian, and so recipes are the only text he can understand without googling a lot

after he retires, he wants to take some Italian lessons with Ice

as mentioned in one of my post's tags, the few words he remembers and are still natural to him are pet names; he calls Ice caro (dear??) like his mom called his dad, mio angelo, tesoro (sweetheart/honey??) and when Bradley was small and he was tired, he'd call him bambino

He also uses sei un raggio di sole (you are a ray of sunshine) sarcastically when Ice is grumpy -- it's a phrase his mom used when he was grumpy as a kid

he couldn't say 'I love you' to Ice for some time so instead, he'd say ti voglio tanto bene and then eventually moved to ti amo and then to English

he actually really likes to cook, he just needs to cook for someone - he was taught that cooking is a sign of love so he likes to cook for their family, but not just for himself

Bradley couldn't eat nutella for years b/c Mav's homemade nocciolata was so much better. Ice could literally kill for his nocciolata-filled bomboloni and ricotta and strawberry jam crostata

Slider often 'visits' them to get their leftovers and had once asked Mav to make him aubergine parmigiana and shrimp risotto as a birthday present

Mav makes Ice tiramisu as a pick-me-up when he needs to leave for long

Mav loves wine but it must be complimentary with the meal

he makes his own pasta and if you're in the kitchen while he's making it, he's going to use you to roll or knead the dough for him

when Carole was getting sick but still staying at home, he'd make batches of ravioli, tortellini, tortelloni, mezzelune, cappelletti -- any stuffed pasta that could be frozen and then quickly boiled -- so Bradley would have dinner when Carole was having a bad day

he refuses to ever make fettuccine alfredo as a rule b/c it's boring and its american, and will never make meatballs to serve with spaghetti, but Ice broke him and he now finally can do the americanized marinara sauce

their house has plenty of jars -- homemade pesto (3-4 different kinds), a mayo-sized jar of oregano, thyme, rosemary, a jar with grana padano in the fridge and a whole shelf filled only with different kinds of oil, cooking wine and vinegar, and a little garden with fresh basil and, once they moved to San Diego, tomatoes. Ice has to remember to water it when Mav is away in the summer

he does the stereotypical arm waving and shoulder shrugging while talking but only when he is either worked up or tired

they also have that one special kind of plates, white with blue and yellow decor and sunflowers on the main dish plate

As a bonus, Polish Ice headcanons:

Ice's mom emigrated during WWII but his dad was second gen born in the US -- she was from Gdansk

he can cook pretty well, especially polish recipes, since he often helped her cook at home

he, however, hates cooking. But he will absolutely stress-make pierogi if he can, usually a huge batch of like 50 or something

he did hand over the polish recipes to Mav - the only thing is, Mav refuses to make bigos for him (b/c he'd need to make his own sauerkraut and it stinks)

he drinks his vodka neat, in a glass, not as shots, adds coke if he's going for a 'light-drinking night'

he occasionally goes to mass at a Polish church - he, usually, doesn't understand most of what's being said but his mom used to take him to one each Sunday and it's now a form of comfort

His favorite childhood meals were placki ziemniaczane (potato pancakes) with mushroom sauce and pyzy (type of dumplings) with plums, which Mav can now make in his sleep

he's never attempting to learn Polish

but he wants to visit Gdansk and the Polish seaside once every few years

#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #op #q #charlie writes #italian mav #polish ice

[luulapants]

At this year's family holiday party, I heard two stories about my grandma (who died before I was born) that I'd never heard before.

The first was from my uncle: "One day, when I was maybe six years old, a Black man came riding down our street on a bicycle, calling out, 'Get your knives and scissors sharpened!' He had the big stone on the back of his bike for sharpening. And, of course, the neighborhoods were all segregated back then, and all of the neighbors started closing their doors and windows, and some of them were shouting and cursing at him, shouting, 'Get the fuck out of here!' and the N-word.

"And my mom saw this, and she went out front and waved her arms and yelled, 'Over here! Come over here, I've got some knives that need sharpening!' She pulled out a couple of folding chairs and she told me to go in the house and get some knives and some lemonade. She told the man to sit down and relax and have something to drink. Then she stood out on the edge of the lawn with her hands on her hips and looked from one neighbor's house to the next, because she knew who'd been shouting those things, and she just glared at them long and hard, like she was daring them to come say something to her. We all sat out there on the front lawn and drank lemonade together while he sharpened our knives."

The second story was from my dad: "I'd forgotten about this story for years, but it came back to me recently. I couldn't have been more than four years old. My older brother and I broke into the neighbor's garage and wrecked it, and my mom caught us. She was furious and screaming at us bloody murder. I remember thinking, I'll do something cute to make her feel better. And Little Rascals was on TV then, and there was a cute kid that said, 'Okie!' so that's what I said.

"She snapped. She started beating the hell out of me, and it just went on and on, she just kept hitting me, and the next thing I knew, I was in my bed. She'd beat me unconscious."

Both stories are true.

My grandma's mother's used to hit her with a hot curling iron. My grandma was a WWII army nurse and a man she loved more than my grandpa died in the war. My grandma never wanted kids, but the Catholic church forbade contraceptives, and she had eight. Her third baby almost died because the post-war housing projects were built so poorly, their house couldn't stay warm in the winter. She would stay up all night holding the baby by the fire and rubbing him to keep him from freezing. When that child was four years old, she beat him unconscious.

I see so many people that struggle to reconcile the fact that great good and great evil can exist in one person. Or that a victim can be a villain. They want people to be simple. They're not. Just because you know the heroic face of a person doesn't mean they don't have a monstrous one. Just because you know the monster doesn't mean they've never been the hero. There's no easy summation of any person. They're just people.

#personal #cw child abuse #cw racism

[huntingteeth]

@shatterthefragments

here's my big feelings mushroom gravy post for u

truly you can use it for anything you think you could put gravy on, but the plan for this round of gravy is to have it on top of mashed potatoes. it's also good with egg noodles or rice, on french fries and other types of potatoes. i'd honestly probably also eat it with a biscuit too. i've put it on top of a grilled portabello mushroom lol.

i make two types of mushroom gravy. one is ... a very southern church cookbook type of gravy, and the other, which i'm making tomorrow is a fancier (?) type lmao.

the first type of gravy is pulled from a recipe my grandmother used to make, which involved wrapping chicken breasts in bacon and then topping it with the gravy and cooking it. i don't eat meat anymore but i do like to pull things from my childhood and make them applicable to my current food landscape, though, and the gravy made the cut. and when i say it's a southern church cookbook gravy recipe, i'm so serious. i've definitely added mushrooms to it but the gravy itself can probably be found in at least five southern baptist church cookbooks at any given thrift shop.

it's good though! it's a can of cream of mushroom soup and three-quarters of that same can of sour cream (daisy is the brand that i swear my allegiance to). then i add (this is where it veers off) a packet of lipton onion soup mix and (lol) canned mushrooms, drained. season to taste, etc etc blah blah blah, cook through until hot. that's the mushroom gravy i make when i desperately need a comfort food. i usually have that with rice, because that's what my grandma served her chicken dish with, or egg noodles.

THE GRAVY I'M MAKING TOMORROW is fancier in terms of uh quality of ingredients, i guess? basically you take sliced mushrooms and brown them on both sides and then take them out of the pan. you get a little roux going with equal parts butter and flour -- i like to make a dark, dark roux so it takes a little more time and effort. i'm probably going to add dried thyme tomorrow because i think that's all i have, but it would be good with rosemary or sage or all three. salt and pepper to preference, whisk in vegetable broth (beef broth would also be good but ya girl's not out here eating meat) until it's the desired consistency. it'll thicken a bit as it cooks and i truly just measure on vibes. let that cook through, add back in the mushrooms. i usually also do a splash of soy sauce and liquid smoke.

#cw food

[bisexual-horror-fan]

you heard of elf on a shelf, now get ready for (making out with) stu in a church pew

Well Anon, I know you didn’t mean for this but you reminded me I haven’t done a solo Stu piece in forever and I haven’t done any church smut in a minute and I haven’t done church smut WITH Stu, so that had to be fixed. So let's get into it!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 4.2K. Stu Macher X AFAB! Formerly Religious Reader. Warnings: Established Relationship. Banter. Teasing. Making Out. Dirty Talk. Exhibitionism. Public Hook-Up. Risky Sex. Unprotected Sex. Vaginal Sex. Masturbation. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Gagging. Throat Fucking. Sex In A Church. Reader Doesn’t Believe In Religion Or God Anymore. Stu Is Stu. Riding. Degradation. Use Of Slut And Whore But In That Loving Stu Way.

—

“Do You Believe?” 

—

The conversation that placed the idea in Stu’s head happened very late at night, the pair of you had one of those dates that stretched basically all day. He’d picked you up mid-morning with the purpose of going to the beach and you lingered there all day, either swimming, or stretched out on the sand listening to music. After lunch a sandcastle was built and then destroyed with Stu doing his best Godzilla impression to make you laugh, before sharing some ice cream, all in all a perfect summer day. You couldn’t be happier having some time with just you and him. 

The beach you went to was a few hours away, you left after sun down and now, on the outskirts of the town you lived in, you are both sitting on the hood of Stu’s car, near midnight and having an extremely late dinner. The bag sits between you, the meal consisting of burgers and fries, you got a milkshake and he got a soda and you were splitting both drinks between the pair of you. 

How this topic came up, you aren’t totally sure, but the point is, now you were discussing it, “So your family never did the whole religious thing?” 

The straw popped out of his mouth and he said with a casual shrug, “Nope, never. I mean, I’ve been for like, weddings, funerals, a Christening or whatever, went to an Easter Sunday once when my grandma insisted but we never went with any kinda regularity.” 

“Or seriousness?” You ask, your elbow nudging him and he says with that classic grin, “Yeah, or seriousness, exactly.” 

His hand is back in the bag, he fishes out a few more fries before asking you with a pinch of his brows, “What about your family?”

You begin to respond to him, saying, “Oh yeah we took it a bit more seriously, went more than you did, I actually almost went to a Catholic high school-”

He had his hand over his mouth as he was finishing his current mouthful before asking, cutting you off as he did so, “With the uniform and everything?” 

You nearly snort before you respond, “I dunno perv, I never went, remember?”

“Never too late to put on a short plaid skirt. You know you can still buy one too, right? It’s not like they card you for a school ID before they sell you one.”  The suggestive rise and waggle of his eyebrows as he leans closer makes you laugh, a roll of your eyes, “Yeah sure, I’ll run out and buy one ASAP.”

He proceeds to take what you said seriously, ignoring your tone, and instead just listening to the words, a bit he loved to do and that was not lost on you, “When you do remember, there is no such thing as too short, like if it’s reminding you more of a belt than it is a skirt you’re on the right track-” 

You shoved your burger into his face, forcing him to take a bite and effectively silencing him. His reaction made you crack up further, attempting to choke down the food without making a mess or spitting any out. When he managed to swallow the food down he said, “Rude! You’re rude.”

He took the napkins you were holding out to him, wiping the stray mustard that got onto his face when you jammed the burger into his open mouth. 

“And you’re a total freak but what else is new?” You say as you shrugged and took another bite of your own burger. He rolled his eyes as he crumpled the napkin in his hand, “So do you believe in that stuff?”

He asked it so casually and you looked over to him, a hearty swallow of milkshake and you asked, “What?”

“In like religion, God, all that shit.” He asked, a soiled napkin still in his hand as he gestured up to the sky. Your eyes turn skyward and you say, “I dunno. I never questioned it much when I was in it, just kinda went along with it all, but after getting out, really examining and thinking about it all critically? Yeah, I can't say I am a big believer.”

“No? You aren’t a fan of Sky Daddy?” He asked in an overly serious tone that almost makes you choke on your next sip of milkshake. You are trying to suck down air, catch your breath and he is piling on, hand on your shoulder as he did so, “You aren’t getting on your knees for him every night and thanking him every damn day for the fact you know me? I’m shocked!”

“Stop! My stomach hurts, fuck-” You beg and he says, “I just think you should be a bit more thankful for me but okay.” 

He does relent. The conversation moves onto other things, dinner is finished and you and he pile back into the car and make the rest of the drive back. You didn’t think anything further of the conversation, not until a few weeks later, you realised that your talk had a bigger effect on him than you thought. You and he were out on the town for another date, easy conversation flowing, his arm around your shoulders, no plans at the moment, in the midst of trying to decide what to do next when he stops. “I got what we should do.” 

He steers you, dragging you up a series of steps and your eyes turn up to realise he is leading you into a rather large catholic church. It’s frankly gorgeous as far as churches go but the Catholics always knew how to do gothic architecture and stained glass well. The scope and scale of the building was impressive, imposing, you don’t remember seeing this place before but then again with your lack of interest in faith why would you pay attention to a house of worship. 

You stop and stand your ground firmly, you and he are midway up the steps, your eyes on him as you ask, “Woah, what the fuck are you doing?”

“What? You against getting a little spiritual together?” Stu asked as he leaned in closer to you and you took a step back, his hand is still on your shoulder but there is some distance between you and him. “I’m just wondering what your motive here is Stu.”

He laughs, head tipping back, his hand that wasn’t still on your shoulder is on his chest, “Me? Having an ulterior motive? Oh you hurt me!”

“Stu.” You deadpanned his name, sounding unimpressed and he parroted yours back in the same way. 

“Be honest with me, can you do that?” You asked and his hand fell away before rubbing over the back of neck, “Alright, fine. So maybe ever since our conversation when we were coming back from the beach I’ve been curious. I want to know more about your relationship with religion when you did believe. I dunno much about that kinda thing and maybe I just wanna get to know you better, okay?”

Oh. Well fuck. You feel like an asshole for giving him the third degree like that. Stu was genuinely being sweet and you assumed the worst, that wasn’t fair to him, immediately assuming he could only be shallow and surface level on this front. Stu contained a lot of depth and you thought you knew better, thought you were one of the only people to give him such credit and yet you still fucked up from time to time, human error is natural but you still mentally berate yourself. You should act better, he deserves better, who were you to judge on what Stu could be capable of caring about?

You reach out, take his hand, fingers tangled together and you apologise, “Shit Stu, I’m sorry. If you want to talk more about this we can.” 

“Really?” His tone makes you feel worse, the soft and hopeful nature of it leads you to start back up the steps, tugging his hand and saying with a glance over your shoulder, “Really. Come on.” 

You thought that this could be a nice change of pace, having a deep theological discussion even if you didn’t really believe in that kind of thing anymore could be great for you, create a deeper connection though an unconventional activity you wouldn’t normally engage in. You felt confident and honestly, a little excited over the idea, a chance for more growth and learning more about each other.  

He is such a lying asshole.

You should have known he wasn’t being entirely truthful. Here you were on a weekday afternoon, church was empty, no one else around save for the both of you in a back pew and Stu’s mouth on your neck and his hand between your thighs. This wasn’t about having a discussion on your faith or lack thereof, no apparently this was about having an illicit hook up in the house of the Lord. You were trying to fight back, trying to move away, but he had one arm around you, hand on your waist, effectively keeping you pulled flush against him. Teeth graze, tongue lathes, his fingers drag higher up your inner thigh and you try to close your legs around his hand but he laughs, you can feel his smile against your throat, “Where are you trying to go?”

You huff out, “Trying to put some space between you and me, fuck Stu-” You gasp as his palm cups your cunt through your underwear, “Why’s that?”

His question in combination with his hand moving makes you whine, “-Cuz I thought you wanted to talk!”

“We can talk.” His fingers move up, firm circles just right that make your hips cant up without being able to control yourself from the sudden jolt of sensation, even without looking he finds what he needs to every time, it’s maddening. “Nothin’ is stopping us from talking.” 

He refuses to stop laying sloppy kisses along your throat or touching you so well, and you restrain a moan, “We shouldn’t be doing this-”

“I thought you wanted to talk, not bitch.” He says easily and you retort, “Stu we can’t, please, ease up!”

“Awe what’s a matter? Aren’t you enjoying this?” His mouth had moved up, warm air fanning over the side of your face as he asked it quietly. He presses harder, fingers work quickly and you inhale sharply, mouth clamping shut to try and hold in your next moan. 

“Sure feels and sounds like you are enjoying it.” That tone of voice, cruel, mocking, thoroughly amused and loving every second, it doesn’t help your arousal or the state of your panties.  His hand slips from between your thighs and you hear him suck on his fingers loudly and you wince. You don’t want to be overheard but he clearly doesn’t care. 

He hums as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth again and says, “Jesus Christ you’re wet.” 

A moment of silence, your laboured breathing is the only real sound, what can you say? You shift in your seat and you can feel how wet you are, what can you say, it isn’t like you can deny what is so blatantly obvious. He breaks the quiet once again. “Oh wait…Or You don’t wanna hook up in a church is that it?” 

You nod with a bite of your bottom lip and he teased, it sounds like his grin is so big it is threatening to split his face in half, “I thought you aren’t religious anymore? Why should it bother you doing this here?”

His other hand was off your waist, fingers under your chin turning your face up to look into his eyes, confirming what you thought, he looked positively gleeful as he taunts further, “You scared God is watching? That you’ll go to hell for this?” His tone is nigh mocking, a hint of condescension, you don’t want to think about what it does to you, how it makes you clench. 

You weren’t afraid, you know better, if God is real he can see you all the time, not just when you are in church, doesn’t mean that the idea of fucking around in here isn’t a big hurdle regardless of the state of your relationship with religion. And the idea of Hell? Laughable, even if it exists you doubt that you’d qualify.  Your personal relationship with all of this was long dead and buried.

What he says holds the potential for a lot of things, it's another taunt, a challenge, a test. He’s right, again, you aren’t religious. You don’t believe in all of that. So why are you hesitating so much? Is it the fear, or the humiliation, the public setting, the risk of getting caught, or is it the much more likely idea that even though you don’t believe the clinging vestiges of religion runs deep? Conditioning like that isn’t so easy to shake, especially when it was present in your life before you could even remember.

“I’m not scared of that! Just what if someone catches us?” A serious attempt is made to make your voice steady and not let the want clouding your mind to shine though, you don’t think it works. 

“Pffft, at this time of day? I sincerely doubt it. Loosen up babe.” The way he is speaking and acting, thumb swiping over your bottom lip, that mischievous glint in his eyes, every single thing he is doing is tailor made and purposeful to rile you up. “Besides that, why would you care? What are they gonna do? Ban us from the church?’

His hands move quickly, fingers dig into your sides, you inhale sharply and yelp out a laugh from the sudden tickling, he doesn’t stop speaking, “Excommunicate you from the religion you don’t believe in? Oh noooo. What a terrible fate!”

Your hands lock around his wrists and you push his hands away, sucking down a lungful of air and pushing back from him at the same time, in one motion, “Fuck, is everything a big joke to you?”

“Maybe. I can’t help it. I’m a natural comedian.” He teases and you sigh, “Yeah you’re a natural something alright-”

He cuts you off, “You don’t like me making light of everything? There’s something you can do about it.” 

You wonder what he means but his body moves, this roll that causes your eyes to drag down his torso to see the origin of it. Upon your eyes landing there you discover this sight: him palming himself through his jeans. This makes it clear, you were so distracted you hadn’t picked up on how hard he was but of course he was. The idea slams into your head like a semi-truck, if you get him off the effect would be two-fold, it would put to bed the idea that you were lying and still gave a fuck about religion, and it would make him stop with all the jokes. You glance around, there wasn’t anyone else here, the idea was admittedly hot. It wasn’t like you never thought about it before, so you decide to say fuck it, not linger or overthink. You’d show him, you’d loosen up. 

Your hands take over and his belt is open, you demand as you move to get on your knees, “Get your pants down.” 

“I knew you’d come around.” The confidence on this man, good Lord, borders much more on outright cockiness. He still does what you asked, pants and underwear are quickly shoved down to mid thigh, raging hard dick exposed to the open air to make this easier, you are now settled on your knees while between his. 

“This is more about getting you to come.” You joke and he laughs, that big, genuine kinda Stu laugh that makes his eyes crinkle at the sides and his nose scrunch slightly, “Fuck, you got some jokes too.” 

You hum in agreement as your hand reaches out, fingers wrap around the base of his shaft and he squirms slightly, his breathing changes, you smile and then you lean in, tongue flicks over the tip and you revel in the harsh intake of air. You don’t waste time. Eyes fall closed, your lips wrap around his head and you suck indulgently, Stu curses and your tongue circles around the amount of him in the wet heat of your mouth. You are taking more into your mouth, tongue moving, sucking deeply, your hand slowly starts working into the mix, stroking up then down again, covering the space that you weren’t taking into your mouth yet, spit slipping past your lips acting as lube. 

You start getting very into it, messy, but something causes a shift. Stu lets out this moan, it isn’t particularly loud, nor pornographic, but the pitch and volume of it reminds you just of where you are. The sound of it reverberates of the high ceilings, the echo makes your eyes open and your gaze draw up the length of his body, and he looks, fuck, incredible, puts the stained glass windows to shame. Pants midway down his thighs, hands splayed on either side of the wooden pew he was seated on, breathing had picked up, lips parted and his eyes on you the entire time. 

The heat floods you, the entire situation is really sinking in, you hadn’t counted on liking it as much as you had but when you were with Stu he had a funny habit of making you discover all kinds of interesting things about yourself. This urge overcomes, you are in a house of worship and on your knees, so shouldn’t you get to worshiping? 

This right here is all you need, he is what you need, the feelings he gives you is better and makes more sense than anything the church ever tried to teach. You wanted to and could, worship at the altar of the flesh forever and be content and satisfied, could be consumed with the flames of lust and feel more fulfillment than any Sunday service or hymn could ever hope to instil.

You slow down further. This should be a rushed affair, it should be fast to lessen the chance of being caught but fuck it, you want to indulge. Hand locking back around the base of him, your tongue runs up the entire length while you stare up into his eyes before your tongue strokes down over the other side. You kiss here and there, you let drool run down him and your own chin, hot breath slips out from between your lips as you proceed to continually lay attention upon him. He was just as into this as you were, he was barely able to sit still, you didn’t speed up, your other hand locked on his hip and you hold him down as best you can as you continue to please and tease. He moans your name and yeah he is done joking around, you sigh his name like a prayer with your lips against the soaked head of dick.

He is being uncharacteristically quiet. Well, in terms of words, he is breathing hard, and letting out a few curses and other sounds of enjoyment but not as much as normal, he doesn’t care about getting caught in terms of consequences, you know he wants to make sure he can get off first though. 

Slipping him back inside you sucked deeply, you hum and the vibration makes his legs jerk, you love having such a strong effect on him. Your hand lifts up with a questioning look and his tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip, his brows pinch together and he nods, telling you he wouldn’t move, would let you do what you wanted. Your hand left him fully and instead it slips down your own body. You get into a good and steady rhythm with him, moaning against his shaft quietly as you bob up and down, your legs spread, hand between your thighs and it finds its way into your underwear. You are dripping wet. 

You start easy, you begin to stroke your clit in firm circles as you suck, the movements of your hand match that of your mouth, tying the act of his pleasure to the sensation of your own. 

Lost to the act of it, to him and yourself, soon your fingers need to explore more, two digits slip into yourself and curl, you moan the loudest you have so far with him stuffed in your mouth and Stu lets out a choked off gasp, “Fuck yes-”

You loved when you pulled such reactions out of him. 

When did you become like this? Almost like he was reading your mind Stu’s hand was on your head and forcing more of himself into your mouth, you let him, even with the slight gag it causes, he speaks, hushed and low, “You’re such a fuckin’ slut. You-you like to act like you aren’t like this, or like I force you but no, it was always in you.”

A breathless laugh, he says it like he is awed, in the same tone he does when he tells you he loves you.

You work yourself quicker, fingers sliding in and out, palm grinds against your clit as you buck your hips, you suck harder, turned on even more and pushed further by his dirty talk as well as his rough treatment of you. “Look at yourself, fingering that cunt in the middle of a church with me halfway down your throat.” 

He makes a good point, you did instigate no less than half the perverted shit you and he got up to, you are just as into this, maybe you should drop all the pretense? 

People who are not sluts don’t throat fuck themselves while masturbating in a church at two thirty on a Wednesday, this is prime whore behavior honestly, totally text book. He is helping control your pace now and you let him, it makes this easier, helps you along and lets you continue to service him while trying to get yourself off, said orgasm was rapidly approaching. Your movements were getting sloppy, every movement bringing you nearer, you were trembling and Stu notices and asks, “Oh you gonna cum, yeah?”

You whine against him with a weak nod and before he can give any praise or encouragement it hits, the sudden drop off the edge makes your whole body jerk, you swallow around the head of his dick involuntarily and Stu groans. You weren’t even over your orgasm, thighs still shaking and breathing laboured, more sparks still firing off inside of yourself, brought on by your skilled fingers, when he pushed your head back, pulling himself out of your mouth.

He hauled you up to be on the pew again, he kissed you deeply, tongue in your mouth, a shared moan and his hand covers yours, moving with you, the action makes you draw out every single ounce of sensation from your peak. You kiss him deeply as he leads you, fingers curling and flexing inside yourself, every drag of your palm over your throbbing clit pulling another sound from you that he was eating up. Finally when it was too much you pull back with a gasp and see he hadn’t stopped, he took over, he had his other hand around himself, stroking himself, desperate and needy just like you. 

“M’ so close, fuck-” You take his admission as your cue, you move as quickly as you could. Your fingers slip out of yourself, shoving your panties to the side and your leg swings over his, moving into his lap and then knocking his hand out of the way, you line up and then sink down. You envelope him, making him call out, “Oh holy shi-”

Your fingers that are still slick from your cunt are shoved into his mouth to help muffle the sound as you say, breathless and playful, “Keep it down Stu, we’re in a church.”

His eyes roll back with a moan, he sucks and you have taken him totally, the stretch is amazing, he is so fucking filling. You start to ride him immediately, rolling your hips perfectly and his arms wrap around your waist, he pulls you closer, and jerks his head back, your fingers are out and your hands go to the back of his neck, you hold him there as he bucks up into you. His face buries into the side of your neck as he grits out, “Christ yes, take it-”

“Gonna cum in me?” You ask and he nods, his mouth finds your sweat slicked skin, he sucks a hickie into your throat, he lets out something that could be read as whimper, book ended by a, “Fuck.” 

His hips slam up into yours one last time, he holds still and unloads, he cums deep and your head tips back with a shuddering exhale. 

It is quiet. 

Just the sound of your shared panting and the feeling of your hearts beating out of your chests as you start to slow the movements of your bodies, loosening and starting to relax against each other. You soon speak up, “So do you believe me now?”

“What?” He asked and you huffed, your head pops back up and you look down at him, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck, “Do you believe me that I don’t give a fuck about religion anymore?”

He laughs, warm smile on his face as he says, “Baby, after that I think you might have made me believe in God.” 

“Jesus Christ.” You scoff and start to slide him out of you, pulling your underwear back into place he jokes, “Yeah that’s the guy.”

As he starts to straighten himself back out and you laugh much too loudly at his terrible joke. Two minutes later you and he are walking down the church steps hand in hand together and you ask, “What should we do now?”

“Mmm how about some more bible study at my place?” Stu asks as he leans down to plant a kiss on your cheek and you hum thoughtfully, “I don’t see why not.”

Maybe your interest in faith could be revived after all. 

#Stu Macher x reader #slasher x reader #MWAH #Hope you love it Anon #BHF asks #BHF writing

[elen-benfelen]

welsh remus guide pt.4

Fourth Part

Welcome back, lads. It’s time for slang, swearing, exclamations and terms of endearment. Buckle up, this is a long one.

Just to get it out of the way, I will begin by stating that, whilst a very romantic and poetic language, Welsh is not what I would personally rely on for dirty talk.

I’m sure there’s folks out there using Welsh for such purposes, most of us however will cringe because it just doesn’t land in the same way as English dirty talk.

This might genuinely in part be because a huge part of the language’s preservation came from people learning Welsh at their local chapels and churches because you weren’t allowed to speak it in most schools at that point in time. But this is just me guessing.

On the flip side of this, if the goal is romance or a beautiful proclamation of love, Welsh is absolutely your best friend. It’s a very loving language, and not just platonically.

It is very common for older people to call you “bach” or “cariad”. Anyone can use these for anyone. Especially when comforting someone or being polite.

Bach - Small

Cariad - Love

This is done in both Welsh and English.

“Ti’n iawn, bach?” (Are you alright, bach?)

“Dere ‘mlaen*, cariad.” (C’mon, cariad)

*slang for ymlaen meaning “forward” and in a Carmarthenshire accent sounds like “mlân”

Many folks will also use “cariad” to refer to their partner.

“Fy nghariad.” (My love/My partner/etc)

South Walians (especially south west) might say:

Wajen/Wejen - Girlfriend

Sboner - Boyfriend

Your married partner can be more specifically called:

Priod - Marriage partner

With a wedding being a “priodas”.

Gwraig - Wife

Gŵr - Husband

Conclusion here is: Everyone is “cariad” and your romantic partner is “my cariad”.

The word “calon” meaning “heart” can be used in the same way.

“Shwd i ti, calon?” (How are you, calon?)

Personally, with “fy nghalon” (my heart) I would use that directly with my partner but not when talking about them with others.

So again, everyone is “calon”.

Now we get to the real funky bit of exclamations/swearing.

We don’t have a word for “fuck” we literally just say the English one and then spell it phonetically so that it’s “ffyc”.

It’s my favourite thing ever.

Cachu - Shit

Buwch - Cow

Ceri i grafu - Fuck off / Go to scratch

(Apologies for those who aren’t comfortable with what is considered blasphemy in some communities but these are common exclamations here)

Iesu Grist - Jesus Christ

Iesu Mawredd - Christ Almighty

Both “Iesu”and “Mawredd” can be said by themselves as well and are generally what I personally say when I’m tired, facing a problem or have hit my foor against something.

Alternatively, a little less Jesus focused is:

Bois bach

Mam fach

I uh….don’t know how to explain these ones. I really don’t, lads. Because the literal translations just don’t make sense.

“Little boys” and “Little mother”

We just, say them.

I say them a Lot. Again, same concept of being fed up, tired enough or in enough pain to just exclaim. It’s like saying “gosh” or “dear me” and such. Very common.

Now to return again to the more blasphemous ones. We reach one of my Mamgu’s favourites:

Jiw jiw nefi blw

Again….I don’t know where nefi blw comes from or if this is even the right spelling. My Mamgu (grandma) says it so often but she also doesn’t know what it means.

The “jiw jiw” can be said alone without the second part and sounds a bit like “jew jew” but is just a evolution of the phrase “duw duw” which means “god god”.

The first time I said this in front of a very English friend they were very confused and concerned that it was some kind of antisemitic phrase - fortunately it is not!

Duwedd annwyl - Dear God

On the more positive side of exclamations is the word “lush” which is more popular in the South and is used a lot in the English language within Wales. I believe it’s short for “luscious”.

“That coat’s lush!”

“Ti’n edrych yn lush!” (You look lush!)

This is common amongst non-Welsh speakers as well as Welsh speakers.

Some very common Northern / Gog slang is “champiwn” and “eidial”.

Which are basically “champion” and “ideal” with heavy North Walian accents.

It’s like, a confirmation in a way. For anyone who’s familiar with the word “slay” and how that’s used, it’s similar to that.

Like instead of saying “okay” sometimes someone will just say “champiwn” or “eidial”. With the “ch” being the English “ch” in “change”.

Which brings us to the greatest criminal of the language but also one of my favourite words:

Cwtch

The only official word in the Welsh language that has that “change” ch sound spelt as a “ch”.

Would I go back in time and stop them from spelling it that way if I could? Absolutely.

Cwtsh is how it should phonetically be spelt. Alas. There is no reversing the insane amount of merch across Wales with Cwtch spread across them.

It’s particularly warm hug or cuddle but it can also be like a nook.

In my area we refer to the cupboard under the stairs as the:

“cwtch dan star” - (cwtch under the stairs)

but also:

“Put that in the dog’s cwtch.” Is a perfectly acceptable phrase.

or:

“This is my cwtch, go get your own.”

Like “lush”, this word is used by many non-Welsh speakers in their English and is a very common term (at least it is in the South)

So a cosy reading nook would be Remus’ cwtch and Sirius would be his cariad.

I think that about covers swearing and endearment? Of course there’s probably ones I’ve missed or aren’t familiar with but these are what came to mind for me.

For the next part I’ll go into terms for family members before moving on to culture/history with a focus on events that would influence the marauders era. Which, oh boy, things were a bit rocky in Wales then. Lots of protests for the working class and for the language.

Note: I am not the collective consciousness of every Welsh person. My experience is not universal - especially when it comes to North Walian things. This is just meant to serve as a general guide. Hope this helps and good luck with your writing!

#welsh remus lupin #welsh remus #marauders era #cymraeg #lily evans #james potter #sirius black #the marauders #wales #welsh #welsh language #wolfstar

[tinyladofladdies]

my testimony 🌊☆⋆｡🪼 (of how i returned to God and truly came to know Jesus for the first time after being a distant believer turned atheist) . . 𓆉︎ ࿔*

Romans 8:38-39 — For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

like many, not all, Christians, i was raised in an american Christian church, knowing who Jesus was my whole life.

from the youngest i can remember, i was attending some sort of church, usually with my nana on my dad's side and then for a bit, with my parents at a different church in town. i attended VBS most summers, went to sports camp at a different Christian church, got to a point where i served the coffee station in my nana's non-denominational church, went to 3 services a week with my other grandma, and as a child, i genuinely loved praying and had a deep understanding of the gravity of what Jesus did for us; i remember as a child feeling genuine sadness thinking of how Jesus died for our sins while being innocent. i loved God.

yet still, once i got to around 6th & 7th grade, i could no longer find myself believing in God. i wanted to believe in something; i attended many sweat lodges with my kaka (grandpa), called myself an "omnist" at one point (someone who believed all religions had an equal possibility of being correct and therefore all religions deserved equal respect). but, very quickly, i started identifying myself as an atheist.

there were many reasons for this; when i was a child, my dad went to prison. i saw drugs all around me, both my dad and my aunt being addicted, as well as other distant family members who i didn't meet, to the point that my dad went to prison for 8ish years and i wasn't allowed to see my aunt anymore for several months. because of my dad's addiction, my mom worked hard, multiple jobs, and i was usually with my dad, and as a young child, felt responsible for my two younger siblings at the time. whether i was with my aunt or dad, i felt responsible for keeping my younger cousin and my two younger siblings at that time safe. there was an unnecessary pressure on me, now that i think back i had a lot go anxiety even as a child, and i know these things added up, because by the time i was 8-9 years old (when my dad went away), i became severely depressed. the first time i physically self-harmed was in 3rd or 4th grade, and i had deep suicidal ideations. i was exposed to things as a child that i shouldn't have been (it's hard to comment on this, because i know i had weird behavior and severe guilt as a young child that was definitely influenced by trauma, except i believe some things happened to me that i repressed because i can't remember). i developed a p*rn & m*sterb*tion addiction still in 3rd or 4th grade, and long before that, sexualised myself as a child. leading up to 6th or 7th grade, my addictions got worse, i was still suicidal and depressed, taking very poor care of myself, and i could no longer feel that there was any God watching over me. so, i became an atheist; i then despised being at church with my nana, i didn't want to stand during the worship music even though, before, i would sing with my whole chest, and i just remember wanting to cry and run out one time because i absolutely did not want to be there and did not want to be standing. one morning, i stayed home from church and my nana got upset with me and told me i could not come to her house unless i came to church with her, and when i told my mom i no longer believed in God, she said i had no feelings or empathy. i say all of this, not because it's easy or to be glorified or because i want my family members to feel any guilt over things they said in 2018; i have fully and completely forgiven both my mom and nana, and my relationship with both of them has drastically improved as well as my relationship with God because of their own faith. however, these things are important to be raw about. the hurt i was already experiencing being added onto made me a stronger atheist, and i know that many people feel the same thing or have been through the same thing, and i want to offer them empathy and hope in Jesus. i don't glorify my trauma or sins, i acknowledge them and how severe they were, but i use this as a testimony to glorify GOD and how far HE has brought me and how much HE has healed me, forgiven me, and saved me from.

from the time i was in 5th grade, i identified as bisexual & pansexual, and from 9th grade to the beginning of my junior year, i identified as non-binary, trans, and every queer label under the sun. i was bisexual, i was lesbian, i was a gay man, i was aromantic, i was hypersexual, i was every "mogai" label that i came across on the internet, i was radically queer and this journey as well influenced my view and idea of God. i was a radical queer inclusionist, i was a radfem/terf, i was pro-choice, i used God's Name in vain and viewed myself worthy to be referred to as a "god," i believed in astrology signs and "vibrations," and the "divine feminine," i talked badly about Christianity while calling myself a Christian, all of these things.

and while some of these sins are at different points in this timeline, before or after i became a Christian, all of this throughout my walk added up to who i am, how i view God and what my relationship with God is like here and now, today.

in the summer of 2019, i moved to california from kentucky with my family after being raised in ky my whole life. i was 13, i was battling extreme intrusive thoughts which caused, yet again, more anxiety and suicidal ideation, and i still did not believe in God.

my family & i lived in hotels for the first month or so that we got out here, where i isolated myself as much as possible, battled my own thoughts, and spent way too much time in my head.

when we finally found and moved into a house, where we still live today, my mom, siblings, & i found a church that is a 5 minute walk from our house. i started going with my family, asked for a Bible i believe the first Christmas we had here, and back then, shortly before and after covid first hit, i took a lot of walks. i would pray. i would ask God for silly signs to prove Himself real to me. i got to this point, and this was now in my 8th grade year (where i dropped out of school due to severe anxiety and developed a horrible reversed sleep schedule...whole other story), where i started believing in God again, but now i felt fear because i believed God was real, but i couldn't really believe. and if i did, i didn't want to follow Him, which made me feel even more guilt; i didn't and still don't know why i felt this way.

i do know, that my relationship with my family was getting worse & more toxic, there was still deep sexual sin in my life, and i was still struggling mentally. i was becoming a worse person to myself, to my family, and to all other people around me. i felt isolated, i felt unreal, i felt anxious, and i felt guilt.

i got a point where i was so delusional and mentally detached that i thought i wasn't even human.

i remember that when things kind of built up, and fights with my mom got worse, and i said or did something i know i shouldn't have, i would just pray; crying & sobbing for hours on end, praying, asking God for forgiveness and help. i think the first time i really repented in prayer was during these times. i knew, and i told God this, that there was something within me that was causing these attitudes, behaviors, and sins, and that i couldn't do it on my own. i wanted so desperately to just act different, be different, be better as a person, and i told God that i just did not know why i couldn't just change myself, knowing that everything in my life was wrong. i just couldn't.

one of the last times i prayed one of these long, desperate prayers, i remember distinctly telling God that i felt like i was too far gone for Him to save me or help me. i don't know if this was a saturday night or a few days before the next Sunday, but i know that the next time there was church, "something" (which i now know was the Holy Spirit), compelled me to go. this was still during covid, church was in different area of the building than the main services used to be, everyone was 6 ft. apart with masks, it was bizarre. but the message that day that stuck with me was "nobody is too far gone for God's love."

that was the exact thing i prayed. and all this time i was asking God for a sign, He spoke to me in the most direct, beautiful way.

as a kid, even with my extreme love for Jesus, i always felt that in order to pray "that prayer," or to even be baptised, i had to get my life together. i had to be kinder, be a better sister and daughter, stop sinning, at least for long enough that i could finally be worthy enough to approach Jesus and tell Him i wanted Him as my Savior.

but for the first time, that lie was undone. i left that service early because i didn't want anyone to see me crying, i cried all the way home trying to hold back the tears, and as soon as i got to my room, i fell down with my head bowed on my Bible and i repented; i admitted everything i had done that had been weighing me down for years, and i finally said the words "Jesus, i accept you as my Lord and Savior."

i finally admitted Who Jesus was, that i believed what He did for me, that i needed God's forgiveness, and that i wanted God's guidance for my life.

now, this was january of 2021 (it's actually funny because for a long time, i thought i was saved shortly after my 15th birthday, but it was actually a month-ish before that birthday, so i literally got my salvation date wrong LOL).

i have to admit, that after praying that prayer, although i felt the peace and presence of the Lord in a way i never had before, i started going to church but i didn't start living for God for a very long time. and even with going to my church, i eventually stopped because my stepdad and i got into a fight where he basically said "why are you even going to church if you're gay?" and while that didn't stop my belief in God, i felt ashamed to pass my stepdad walking out the door on Sunday mornings.

a lot of sin in my life actually got worse after i came to Christ; i was still gay and trans, still sexually sinning with my addictions, still not being the best family member, still being a very toxic person, and still using the Lord's Name in vain and using God's Name in fights to defend things that aren't even biblical.

it wasn't until august of 2022, the beginning of my junior year, that i made the step to start going to church again, to get baptised, which i had put off for so long, and to start taking God seriously. i started going through the verse of the day in the youversion Bible app every morning, i started praying every day and more consistently throughout my day, i started trying to learn more about who God actually is, and i started serving in the kids' ministry at my church. eventually i started attending and then serving in the highschool ministry, i started serving in the choir and greeting team, and for the first time, i really sat down and examined my sins & behaviors; even after beginning to take Jesus seriously, many sins, even sinful thoughts as well as behaviors, continued, and it took a lot of help from the Holy Spirit, a lot of self-control, a lot of mindset & heart attitude change, and a lot of repentance, to get to a point where i knew exactly how God wanted me to live and started putting it into practice.

in the very beginning of building my relationship with God, i felt peace and joy like never before, and thought "why on earth did i never follow Jesus before?" but as with every believer, the enemy started attacking and i had, and still do currently, have to navigate through spiritual attacks; i have slipped and sinned and messed up seemingly "way too far" into my Christian walk, knowingly, knowing what is sin and what isn't. it took me absolutely forever to finally and honestly surrender my false identity of homosexuality & gender identity over to God (and His love, comfort, and patience was so present with me through that long process), it took forever to unlearn things i had been taught by the world or that i had somehow believed (and that unlearning process is still continuing sometimes as i read the Word of God and get closer to Him), it took forever to finally manage my thoughts and temptations, and even recently those thoughts & temptations have caused me to either slip or fall into anxiety.

my testimony is still being written every day, but all of this is a testament of God's EXTREME goodness, faithfulness, and grace.

i have been under severe spiritual attack for the entirety of 2024. there are days when my thoughts seem beyond control, where my ocd presides over genuine interaction with God, where i don't feel God's presence almost at all. i have fallen into a deep depression, anxiety, ocd, and a lot of my passion to live out my life as it is right now has diminished, and that's hard.

but God has been faithfully speaking to me through His Word, through my family, through my Christian friends and mentors. He has been teaching me how to relearn prayer and interaction with Him, His presence and protection have brought peace and encouragement like never before, even when i'm in a dark season where it seems like i should be feeling everything but peace or encouragement.

but God is building me up and preparing me for whatever seasons are going to come next, and all of this is to say, God is real.

God is patient, God's grace never runs out; the message that led me to salvation was "nobody is too far gone for God's love," no matter what you have said or done, how broken you are, Jesus is victorious over every single part of the battle. that message is still true.

God loves you, God is near to you, God's grace & patience are extended to you and me time and time again, and God has a plan for you. He created you to know Him and He will meet you right where you are.

one of my favorite verses (and chapters, really), is the one quoted at the very top of this post, but i will reiterate it time & time again for as long as i live . . .

I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

🫧 ⋆｡˚꩜ : creds . .

dividers: roseraris

#christian #christianity #Jesus #Jesus Christ #faith #religion #theology #Bible #the Bible #religious #gen z Christian #tinyladofladdies #faith in Jesus #Christian faith #Christian blog #Christian living #Jesus loves you #Jesus is coming #Jesus is God #Jesus is Lord #GOD #Lord #Yahweh #Salvation #questioning #Bible study #Bible Scripture #Word of God #Bible quote #Bible verse

[jo-harrington]

Second request for Hymn's of Heaven 🩶

will-o'-the-wisp

I know this is your second request, and it’s fully my intention to get back to the first one…but I just needed to write this one real quick.

Themes/Warnings: Religious/Catholic Themes (duh, but maybe a little heavier than other hymns have been), hurt/comfort, allusion to familial problems, fluff

And if you see a continuity error in a previous hymn...no you don't.

Find other Hymns of Heaven here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

July 1984

It was a carefree kind of night.

A perfect kind of night.

Just the two of you.

You needed it, Eddie knew. He’d never been very far from home before but he recognized homesickness when he saw it. And as much as he hoped that Hawkins was becoming your home—that he was becoming your home—he couldn’t deny that you had a whole life that you’d left behind over a year ago.

Sure your parents…but your grandma, more than anything, was your home.

“She’s just a little old lady,” you told him when he asked about her the first time. You beamed, obviously ecstatic to talk about your favorite person. “But she’s always been my best friend.”

Through stories about your grandma, he learned more about you. Felt his heart grow a little more with each little tidbit; to see how you talked about someone you cherished.

“She cooks…all the time, more food than anyone could ever eat. She makes this soup. I swear it’s magical; a remedy for any illness.”

“She used to work at this factory but she’s retired now. If you ever want like…a hundred boxes of Tootsie Rolls, she still has an in and she can get them for you in a blink of an eye.”

“She’s always at church. Always. She dragged me all the time too. Didn’t matter what language the mass was in. English, Spanish, Latin, Italian, Polish…I am a polyglot for masses because of her.”

After the Fourth of July festivities, the homesickness started. You got quiet sometimes, fiddled with your necklace a little more. He noticed immediately and it made him feel...not bad...just helpless.

What could he do to to make you feel better when he didn't even know what was wrong?

Eddie didn't even need to ask, you simply told him one day.

"It's her birthday tomorrow," you muttered. "And coincidentally it's also this...special Feast Day. There's a procession with music and fireworks and this...statue. I can't really explain, you just need to experience it. I'll take you one day, I promise; you'd have the best time.

"Anyway, when I was younger, we would sit on the porch and watch the procession go by, have this table of candles and offerings set up. I always said it was special just for her, and it would make her smile. And then at night, she would watch me run around the yard and try to catch fireflies.

"I tried calling home to tell her Happy Birthday but my dad picked up," you choked up. "He never...but it's like he knew...and I froze...I couldn't even...I just hung up."

He expected tears. This was the closest he'd ever come to seeing you cry before. He anticipated the worst, and engulfed you in a hug, whispering sweet words of comfort.

"It's ok, she'd understand. I know how much you miss her. I'm sure she knows it too."

You squeezed him hard, buried your face in his neck and nodded with every word.

"You did the right thing. Your dad's an asshole. You won. You didn't give him the satisfaction of upsetting you more. I'm proud of you."

And when you pulled away, everything was normal. You pressed a kiss to his lips and his cheeks, and then asked if he wanted to get Dairy Queen.

But there were no tears.

Eddie knew how it felt, to always have to be the strong one. Whether it was because you didn't want someone to see your weaknesses...or because there was too much going on for you to have any. He'd balanced that burden all his life. But he also knew that...you didn't need to be that way around him, didn't need to feel like you needed to hide or keep these walls up.

You had secrets, things you simply kept to yourself--shit, he had them too--but he wanted you to know that you were safe with him. That he'd be there to listen if and when you were ready.

So he did what he knew he did best. He made the person who was most important in his life feel how important they were.

It didn't take much planning. He rummaged around Rick's boathouse for old rags and rubber bands and jars that held an amalgam of screws and bolts and nuts. Bribed Mickey's mom to go to Bradley's during your shift to grab some treats. And promised Wayne that he would replace the six-pack he took from the fridge during their next grocery run.

It was gonna be special. Unforgettable. He needed to make you smile.

All he had to do was wait until your shift was done in the Bradley's parking lot and keep his big mouth shut when you saw him.

He unfortunately couldn't do that.

"You wanna go catch some fireflies?" he whispered in your ear and spoiled the surprise when you greeted him with a hug and a soft what are you doing here?

"What? Eddie!" you laughed.

He talked the whole drive to Weathertop, explained that he had cake and lemon ices and beers in a cooler in the back.

"Gotta celebrate still, even if you can't be there with your grandma," he explained, and you grabbed his hand to place gentle kisses on the back of it as he drove.

You jumped from the van with a whoop as soon as he parked on the grass. It wasn't fully dark out yet but you could still see the intermittent glow of fireflies as they floated around the field of wildflowers. You shed your little uniform vest and ran around the grass for a second.

Eddie watched as you jumped and tried to catch one or two glowing bugs in your hands with the uncharacteristic carefree nature that a child might, and then round back on him as he popped the back doors of the van open to prepare the spread he'd organized.

The sight of you running back to him--the twilight glow behind you, the biggest smile on your face, and something in your eyes that was reserved just for him--made him feel like he was the most important man in the world.

It made his hands shake a little.

"Alright, I've got jars for each of us," he began and handed you one. He tried to cover the shakiness in his voice. "We'll let 'em go at the end of the night."

"Sounds good."

"You know...Wayne always told me if I was gonna try to catch them, that I had to be careful not to catch a will-o'-the-wisp on accident instead. He said they don't appreciate it when you catch them."

You tilted your head a little and pressed your lips together and Eddie's eyes narrowed at you.

"Don't tell me that's the one thing you don't know about?"

He felt giddy to be able to teach you something about a mystical creature for once. Some little bit of folklore that might make you smile.

"They're these...I don't know ghost lights and they float around, and if you try to follow them, they'll end up leading you astray. I thought I caught one once and Wayne mentioned that they're not actually good spirits, they're mischievous. I got so scared and...and you're just letting me talk out of my ass right now aren't you?"

You burst with laughter and shook your head.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," you held your hands up in surrender. "You were just so cute."

"Cute? I'm cute?" He put a hand to his chest in feigned insult. "Here I am trying to prevent my girlfriend's demise and she tells me I'm cute."

Eddie waited until you were caught off guard, scrambling to apologize, before he attacked. Fingers wriggled against your sides, causing you to laugh and gasp, and just when you thought it was over, he blew a raspberry on the exposed junction of your neck and shoulder.

The rest of the night was perfect. You ran around and caught fireflies together--you boasted when you caught more than he did, but he was especially proud because his glowed more--munched on the snacks that he brought, and then to end the night, you laid out on one of the blankets from the back of the van and stargazed.

Eddie pointed out constellations to you--a thing you actually didn't know much about at all--and after a while, the weight of your head on his shoulder became heavy and your breathing evened out.

He was gonna let you doze for a while before he woke you up to head home, but you surprised him when you sat up and looked at him.

"Today was perfect Eddie," you muttered. "Thank you."

"Hey of course," he beamed. "Anything for you."

"You...I..." You paused and bit your lip for a second. An eternity.

When you spoke again, it was something he hadn't realized that he'd been waiting to hear. Something he had been hesitant to tell you...probably since the first time he met you. He knew then how he felt, it was just...never the right time...and he never wanted to scare you or pressure you.

But his heart soared...because he didn't have to wait an eternity to hear it anymore.

"I love you Eddie. So much. More than you'll ever know."

#aasb #eddie munson x reader #hymns of heaven #Eddie munson fluff #as above so below

[missbunmuffin]

More punch out head canons

Tw: talk about weight issues

Less serious tw: ocs and cringe

What me putting my shitty ocs in these posts is like. I made posts about both of them probably gonna say this kind of stuff every time I post these kind of things but I don’t want people to be too confused.

Glass Joe

- Grew up in a catholic home but now as an adult doesn’t practice the religion really. He will eat meat on a Friday during lent. He doesn’t know what the fuck he is now he just considered himself spiritual or just a really bad catholic(not self projecting lmao)

- His family wasn’t really religious they only went to church sometimes but his mom wanted to do the no eating meat on Fridays during lent thing for some reason

- His sister just drops her kids off at his house randomly most of the time on Wednesdays because apparently French children only have like half a day of school those days(could be wrong) he loves his nieces but he hates when his sister just drops them off without warning because he has a life too.

- He loves silk textures. I feel like his boxing shorts are just really silky too

- Deadass walking around the locker room in a robe with a towel over his head after he’s done in the shower I drew an example back in like December

Yes that’s the same robe he’s wearing in the pity party drawings I made

- Protective over his hair but he doesn’t mind if people touch it as long as they ask and are gentle

- His hair is also pretty soft and he takes good care of it to prevent further damage from when he bleached it himself and a chunk fell out.

- Into Rococo art. I took a humanities class at the beginning of the year and looked into the rococo art movement a bit and apparently it’s French so I always thought he would like that kind of stuff.

- uses a lavender sleep spray

- tries not to get too angry in public. Sometimes he just needs to leave the room to just pout and let it all out sometimes even crying out of anger

- has quite the collection of sweaters and cardigans.

- Loves baking cookies for his girlfriend Eleanor. Shes a baker herself but she loves his cookies more than her own

Von Kaiser

- Cuts his own hair this fucking video is literally him

- secretly a cross dresser I mean this one might be kind of canon because of the weird chibi drawing of him in a Japanese manual for the nes game. Some of the other ones were so racist though ;-;

- Wasn’t really interested in working with children it just sort of happened

- Either way he cares about his students genuinely even if it doesn’t seem like it

Disco kid

- got banned on Roblox for a day for saying suck toe(totally not based on my cousin who is like the same age as him also getting banned for that) yes I’m sharing this drawing again

- Singing as loud as possible in the locker room showers

- If he has kids they aren’t going anywhere near the mall Easter bunnies and Santa’s he doesn’t trust them and neither should you

- He never hits the villagers with nets in animal crossing

- Has two sisters one older one younger

Aran Ryan

- Afraid of needles

- Has weight issues. He’s too focused on numbers on the scale. He knows nothing is wrong but I think some things the people around him said growing up affected him.

- I mentioned his sister Freya also has body issues in my post about her and Aran tries to support her because he doesn’t want her thinking that way about her body like he does. I imagine a lot of the women on his father’s side are naturally more curvy and he doesn’t want his sister to be ashamed of her natural body type.

- Still visits his grandmas house on his dad’s side even as an adult. He’s one of the only things she has of his dad that she has left.

- Plays Roblox with Disco kid and forces Narcis to play with them. He also bullies kids on there

- His mom was struggling fanatically a bit when his sister was about to go into secondary school. He just got into boxing at that point and was getting paid well so he paid for her school uniforms so she didn’t have to be stuck in his old ones that were too big and had rips in the pants that would probably fall down on her. He insisted he’d at least buy her some skirts because she’s not walking around school like that. He also felt bad because she literally cried at the thought of wearing a “boys uniform”

Narcis Prince

- Was like one of those rich British kids in tv shows and movies.

- He snoops in people’s shit all the time. Looking through drawers and reading peoples diaries.

- Would say British schools are crazier than American schools and than flip out at the stories in American schools and regret what he said instantly

- Tries to look after Freya to get on Aran’s good side. They have a complicated relationship. Deadass tries to put her to bed at 8:00 saying some shit like “young ladies your age need to be in bed by 8:00”

Okay this is getting long I’ll stop now

#punch out #punch out headcanons #punch out oc #glass joe #von kaiser #disco kid #aran ryan #narcis prince

[booktomoviebrawl]

We are not judging how bad the movie is, we are judging which adapted the book the worst. There are good movies that are bad adaptions.

Propaganda below the cut (spoilers may apply)

Cirque du Freak: The Vampire's Assistant (originally the Darren Shaw saga/The Vampire's Assistant):

Took on a much more early 2000s teen flick approach to a book that, while initially for younger audiences, had a lot of very dark and Intense moments. The casting was also fairly bad and it really went in a different direction from the novel.

Bad acting, weird script choices, not even Ken Watanabe & Salma Hayek could save it

Characterisation was nothing like the books and it couldn't decide if it was a comedy or horror

Seventh Son (originally The Spook's Apprentice):

The book is a dark fantasy book for children, with fantastical elements that ring true to folklore but still have their own distinct flair, really well written horror centered on the fact that the protagonist is still just a boy, and a very strong theme that the spook opposes the forces of darkness and evil with knowledge and wits rather than heroics. The series as a whole has a lot of digs at established powers, both the Church or the nobles. It also has a mentor that is showed as imperfect from the get-go because of sexist tropes, and a protagonist who criticizes it even at the beginning when he's just a boy. The movie makes the protagonist an adult, turns the spook from an old wise man who practices using a stick (peasant weapon!) to fight and throwing silver chains to immobilize supernatural creatures, into the SURVIVOR of an ORDER OF KNIGHTS, and generally removes all the slow creeping horror to turn it into generic shitty fantasy movie #493, with bad acting on top. And it bombed so bad it probably RUINED the Spook's series chances to ever get a good adaptation, damnit!

Mentor gets changed from being part of a long line of people with a cool fantasy job to a discount Templar, cool methods of handling monsters got reduced to just killing them, awesome assassin grandma changed to Default Movie Witch, and more! It's pretty much not the story anymore.

It takes pretty much nothing that I liked from the books with the initial premise and some names being pretty much the only things kept intact.

The plot and world were completely changed. Most of the changes make for a much more generic and, in my opinion, worse story. Spooks in the books are seventh sons of seventh sons who are trained to fight creatures of the dark because seventh sons of seventh sons are able to sense the supernatural. They are hired for jobs by ordinary people, usually exorcising ghosts or capturing creatures like boggarts and witches. In the movie, the Spooks are also seventh sons of seventh sons, but for some reason, they are an order of knights. In the books lot of people think Spooks are charlatans until they come face to face with a ghost or creature of the dark because the world is usually pretty ordinary and peaceful. The setting is inspired by Lancashire and the world feels pretty unique. The setting in the movie is Generic CGI Fantasy Land where everyone has American accents and big CGI monsters are everywhere.

The protagonist Tom and Alice, his friend and later love interest, were aged up like in the Percy Jackson movies. In the books, Tom starts out as a 12-year-old and grows up as the series continues. He starts out very uncertain and wants to stay on his family farm. He only becomes a Spook because he knows he has to get a job to ease the financial burden on his family. He grows into his role as a Spook's apprentice over time. Alice is a pretty interesting character in the books, she is naturally very talented as a witch but struggles with the darker side of her powers over the course of the series. In the movie, they became incredibly generic Hero and Love Interest characters with pretty much no personality and instantly fall in love.

Mother Malkin was a first-book villain, who was mostly only such a threat because Tom was an extremely inexperienced 12-year-old at this point who accidentally released her and didn't realise how dangerous she was. She was monstrous and decrepit and fed on blood. In the movie she is turned into a beautiful seductress and a world-ending threat who can turn into a dragon. They also made her the Spook's lover for some reason.

Tom's mother is a really cool character in the books who pushes him to become a Spook despite him being reluctant and plays a larger role in the later books. In the movie, Tom is the one who wants to be a Spook and his mother doesn't want him to.

I think the character who got it worst was the Spook himself, John Gregory. In the books, he is a former priest at the end of his career as a Spook, he is incredibly uptight and disciplined to an extent that other Spooks find over the top. For example, he has a rule of fasting before a battle that he makes his apprentices follow and he only kills as a last resort. He's tough but usually pretty fair to Tom and explains things to him so he doesn't get hurt. In the movie he is pretty much the complete opposite, he's a drunkard who spends the whole movie making getting angry and fighting and doesn't seem very interested in teaching Tom how to be a Spook. Also, the accent that Jeff Bridges uses is terrible.

I'm not sure the movie would be enjoyable if you hadn't read the books, having read them I hated it, but I feel like it would be mediocre at best even without the comparison. The acting is pretty bad despite the big-name cast. I think you could maybe enjoy it in a so bad it's good kind of way. The books were spooky and pretty charming from what I remember and I think if they had been adapted more accurately, preferably as a TV show, it could have been pretty good. Sorry this is such an essay, I've never hated an adaptation more. It's been a long time since I've both read the books and seen the movie, so if anyone wants to correct anything feel free.

#tournament poll #cirque du freak #seventh son #the spook's apprentice #the vampire's assistant

[24hrfrog]

Going off of the adopted Slider AU with his Korean mom

(imma call her Umma for now, it is the eng spelling of ‘mom’ in korean or that’s at least how I would spell it),

Here’s some stuff he would run into growing up:

Slider wearing a girl’s hanbok, a hand-me down from Umma’s younger years, on his first new years with his new relatives and it’s too small for him but he secretly likes the colors lol, they’ll fit him for a boys one later

Slider trying to do a “kimchi” squat (where you squat all the way down but you feet are completely flat to the floor, my family calls it the kimchi squat since grandmas prepared kimchi in that position) but never fully pulling off the position since his heels don’t touch the ground like Umma’s when she’s working on the floor

(trauma experience 🤭) Having his first experience of “ew what is that smell” to his lunch :)))))) ended up asking Umma give him mainly prepackaged foods

When Umma had past friends come over to the US to visit her they fussed over Slider so much, lots of cheek pinching in his youth, and conversations about him in korean about how tall he was growing or he needed to eat more and he’s so handsome!!!

Slider going to church but it’s literally all Koreans (real note: this is a thing and it’s so wild to me, because where tf did all these Koreans come from in this area and how did they fill up a whole ass church)

Just for fun: Logan Yale Lee being the son of a relative and Slider in his later years babysitting him for cash and introducing the small kid to planes (lol Logan origin story)

Slider having a fish and someone cooking it. (this has happened to my cousin by her mom’s grandma and her goldfish, it was fucking hilarious)

Slider being bilingual as he hits his later teens and has yearly trips to Korea because Umma’s parents live there

1986 Slider cooking authentic Korean food for the boys 💪💪 Ice has definitely visited before— Umma DEFINITELY would favor him (my mom loved Val Kilmer when she first watched TG86, she found him handsome LMAO)

Some details on Umma: she studied advertising in college, her first job was working on a military site in the business/advertising area (a job my mom did), she’s a first gen (fob moment), her parents helped save money so she could move to America where she settled down on the east coast, she had a strong accent when she first started out so keeping conversation was hard which made it pretty lonely outside of the Korean community, her husband who she met in college died from cancer and she does a lot of community help and started being a foster parent which is where Slider comes in!

(^there is aways a small Korean community in an area and koreans tend to stick together, its pretty cool bc then you get a lot of asian marts and the GOOD korean food, there was a community near my parents house but they all migrated a bit south to the next county which was wild bc hearing that from my parents made it sound like koreans are in like a pack lol)

#me pushing my experiences on this bafoon #slider but add a lil bit of spice #blurr au! #top gun #slider top gun #slider kerner #slider au