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mrvlbimbo · 2 years

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You mean nothing (everything) to me

Eddie Munson x reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT WARNING

4.3k words

She was already having a bad day at work when Mike and Dustin had so rudely bursted through the door of the video shop. The first thing she thought was that they should be at school but then she reminded herself of her own highschool days and she felt more forgiving. “I’m not giving you guys any more rated r movies. My boss had my ass for it last time,” she barked at them as they perused the shelves, clearly trying to build up the courage to ask her something.

“We need a different type of favor actually.” She tried to wrap her head around what Dustin might have been implying. Sure a lot of highschool kids asked her to buy them alcohol and such and she would be lying if she said she never obliged them.

“So we have this DND group,” Mike added and she almost laughed. Of course this would be about Eddie Munson and his stupid fucking DND cult.

“Yeah yeah, with Sinclair. Where is he anyways?” she asked, referring to their other friend who was part of the club as well. She kept up with the kids due to her best-friendship with their resident babysitter Steve Harrington. And because of that she knew that Lucas had a basketball game that night and that’s likely why they were pleading with her to join.

“So that’s why we’re here.” Mike introduced the idea with the amount of elegance she would expect from a Freshman in highschool who played DND in his freetime. He wasn’t convincing in the slightest but she allowed the two boys to continue with their pitch.

“He bailed. We need an extra for tonight.” Dustin brought a reason to the table, seemingly the more logical one of the two.

“Ask Harrington,” she shot back, presenting them with their first alternative. Also presenting her with an out so she wouldn’t have to see the infamous leader of their little club.

“He has a date,” Dustin replied smugly, knowing he had caught her in a bad spot.

“And you assume I don’t.” It was matter of fact. She stated that she had other things to do and that their excursion wasn’t worth her time. She was interested to see how they would respond.

“What you do isn’t considered dating,” Mike scoffed and she thought about smacking him in the side of the head. She decided against it since she was at work, and on her boss’s last nerve.

“Don’t be an ass. You’re too young to be talking about all that crap,” she replied sternly, reminding them that although she was a cool adult she was still an adult.

“So you’ll be there?” He asked, knowing it would be better to ask her a yes or no question than drag on and let her avoid the offer until she was able to coax them out of the shop.

“Yeah. Fine.” She had a soft spot for the kids so it was a no-brainer that she would help them out even if it was really inconvenient and uncomfortable for her.

She went home and changed into something nicer. Even after everything she was still trying to impress Eddie, some things never changed. It’s not like he would care, or more likely he’d make a snide comment about her outfit and then ignore her for the rest of the night.

Her assumption was right, his first words when she walked through the door were a comment about her promiscuity. “You brought the school slut into my sanctuary?” He was as rude as ever, still sporting that ridiculous haircut that she’d never admit to liking.

“Former school slut. I graduated, unlike you,” she snapped back, trying not to show that it hurt her. This game they had been playing for years only worked if he thought she hated him too, she couldn’t even think of how much worse it would be if he knew the truth.

“You don't have to rub it in. Plus I don’t have the advantage of sleeping with my teachers for grades.” He knew it wasn’t true but he said it anyway to get under her skin. He couldn’t help himself when that familiar scowl crawled over her face, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think it was cute.

“I never- whatever lets just get this stupid shit over with.” She stumbled over her words as she tried to remind herself why she was here in the first place. Partly because she wanted to help her favorite freshmen and partially because she was a bit of an emotional masochist.

The campaign dragged on as far as she was concerned, her character dying early into the final boss battle. Eddie spared no opportunity to make a dig at her at any given chance, making the whole thing even more unbearable.

She also didn’t miss the way, despite claiming to hate her, he wouldn’t take his eyes off her. Men are like that, wanting to fuck the very thing they’re dispise. Although, she liked to think anything with a brain wanted to fuck her. And most of the time she was right.

This was one of those times.

By the time the campaign was over, he was half hard from her leaning over the table in her unbearably low cut shirt. If he was a prude he might have suggested she cover herself up in the presence of the freshmen.

But he wasn't a prude, and he was quite enjoying the view down her shirt. A red lacy bra peaked out from the neckline when she bent down to pick up the dice. He regretted the way he reacted, voicing his frustration in pointed insults and taunting just like he did when they were in school.

When everything was done, he just needed to go home and rub one out in the shower. The shame would set in later, just like it always did. He had had his eyes on her for a while now and nothing was worse than the embarrassment of her obvious disinterest. From what he had heard, she had been with practically every guy in their small town. Except for him.

For some reason she never turned her sights to him. At first he tried to be nice, the way other guys never were. They saw her as a sure thing, never respecting her. He didn’t want to do that to her, take what he wanted and rush off to brag about his conquest.

Embarrassingly, he actually had a really serious crush on her for all of highschool. He stills remembers the day they met, she sauntered into his biology class fifteen minutes late and sat down on top of his desk.

“Can I help you, miss?” the teacher had asked sternly.

“Not unless you can get me a pack of smokes, ma’am.” She hopped off the desk and stepped in front of the class, plucking a piece of chalk up and writing on the board in big letters. Bullshit. She wrote ‘bullshit’ on the chalkboard and then she promptly strutted right back out of the classroom, shooting him a wink as she left.

They became quick friends after that, taking solace in the fact both of them hated everything about the stupid small town. For the first two years of highschool they were inseparable. Things changed once she made a reputation for herself. It started with one guy blabbing his mouth and then another. It’s not like everyone wasn’t doing it, but people latched onto her as the town whore probably because of her unconventional attitude.

It made her more popular. For all the wrong reasons, but still it was nice to have people pay attention to her. Everyone wanted to have something others wanted and she certainly did have that.

She took pride in her looks, utilizing revealing clothing to enhance her already considerable assets. From what he could see, that hadn’t changed. That night she wore a tight, low cut, cropped t-shirt and a denim miniskirt that barely covered her ass.

Her beat up high tops tapped on the floor as she walked over to him. When the boss battle was over he had drifted into his own thoughts as the rest of the group dispersed. She hadn’t gone yet, he assumed it was so she could deliver some heart wrenching insult before she left and never thought about him again. It wasn’t that easy for him, he never stopped thinking about her.

“Oh my god you’re high. You fuckin junkie.” Her voice cut through his trance like a knife. She was always so mean but her voice sounded so pretty to him, it was giving him whiplash.

“I’m not high, I'm just thinking.” He was quick to correct her, wanting her to know he was completely sober for what he was about to say.

“About?” she scoffed, making it clear she didn’t think highly of his intelligence.

“Why do you hate me?” As soon as he asked the question he knew it was a bad idea but he couldn’t help himself. He spent so many nights asking himself that question, it was high time someone else had to answer it.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” she snapped, anger bubbling over. It had been simmering all this time, and him acting like she was the reason there was a divide between them was just the final nail in the coffin.

“Yeah, after you ignored me for three years for no reason. I wanna know why you hate me.” His voice was frantic and upset, he didn’t know what his plan was but he wanted answers and he had her here now. It’s not like there were any remaining bridges to burn anyways.

“Oh because you were so friendly,” she replied sarcastically, referring to the way he had relentlessly mocked and criticized her publicly after their friendship ended. She could handle other people talking about her behind her back, but he said it to her face and it stung.

“I was confused. We were best friends and then-” he tried to defend himself but she quickly interrupted, seething at him trying to play the victim.

“Yeah we were. We were best fuckin friends and then you ruined everything.” Her voice sounded venomous, he flinched when she raised her voice just from the pure anger she radiated.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

“Junior year, winter formal,” she stated, as if it was supposed to mean something and It did mean something to both of them.

He remembered that night like it was yesterday. The dance was boring, they dipped after less than an hour and went back to her place. Her parents weren’t home so they decided to set up in the basement for a horror movie marathon.

She was scared out of her mind, or maybe he was. Either way they were curled up in eachothers arms, hiding from whatever monster was under the bed. After a particularly scary scene, she had crawled into his lap. He had thought maybe after all this time, he was finally going to get a chance with her.

His hands went to cup her waist, gripping the fabric of her dress in between his fingers. She was wearing a puffy purple cocktail dress with glitter. It looked stupid, well it would have looked stupid on anyone else. Because he thought she looked absolutely perfect. And he looked at her like she was the most beautiful person in the world.

She noticed the way he stilled, looking up at him in turn. “Eds, what's wrong?” He didn’t reply, not knowing the words to finally tell her how he felt. The look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. And for a second he thought she was going to kiss him, his hands tightened on her waist in anticipation.

But instead of what he expected, she shrunk back and mumbled something inherently. She made some excuse about being tired and shut off the movie, ordering him to go home. Nothing was said at the time, but he knew something was wrong. And based on the fact she completely ghosted him after that night, he was right.

“Yeah I remember.” He shook his head as if he was trying to shake the memory out, but like so many times before it didn’t work.

“The way you looked at me,” she added. He knew exactly the look she meant. It just hurt him more to realize the reason she rushed out that night was that she found out about his feelings. He had always assumed but having proof was harder somehow.

“You haven’t spoken to me in years because of a look?” he asked, he was angry but more than that he was just sad.

She wasn’t buying it. “No. It wasn't just any look. I know that look. That was the look of a guy who wants something.” That something she was referring to was obviously sex. So maybe he was in the clear, she hadn’t figured out about his feelings. The worse option that seemed to be reality, was she thought he was only friends with her because he was attracted to her.

“OK, is that such a crime?” he asked, not believing that they couldn’t have replaired their relationship from that with a mature conversation. Although, they were not having many mature conversations back at the age of 17.

“All that time. I thought you cared about me. And what, you were just playing the long con for a quick fuck?”

“Ok fine, I’ll admit it. In that moment, yeah I wanted to fuck you.” He should have told her that a quick fuck was absolutly not what he wanted but he was picking up on her anger and mirroring it.

“And now?” she asked, knowing exactly how to push his buttons even after all these years.

“Now? Yeah now I still do,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders as if it was no big deal. And maybe it wasn’t. Things were different now, they were both adults and they were no longer friends. They could fuck no strings attatched, and that idea was starting to look enticing to them both.

“And the fucked up thing was. I almost did it. Because I liked you Eddie. I really liked you.” She couldn’t hide the way her lip was quivering as she spoke. She was angry but not with him anymore, she was angry with herself for letting him make her feel this. So in a roundabout way she was still mad at him too.

“Why didn’t you?” he questioned, still miffed by the whole ghosting him for three years thing. But she had said it, she liked him all those years ago. Not anymore, he thought. It didn’t matter now, if anything it just made the whole thing sting more.

“Because I knew it wouldn’t mean to you what it meant to me,” she finally admitted, stepping close to him so they were almost chest to chest. She looked up at him with something close to longing and he almost choked.

“And now?” he asked. There was a weird sort of sexual tension in the air that neither of them knew how to confront.

“You mean fucking nothing to me,” she hissed.

“Good,” he whispered, grabbing her face and pressing their lips together harshly. There was no affection in the way he kissed her at first, just rough lust and anger. Both of their pent up feelings spilled out as they grappled at each other's clothes for something to hold onto.

His hands smoothed over her legs, rucking up her skirt so he could squeeze her ass. He snapped the band of her underwear, it was a lacy red to match her bra. “You wear these for me?”

“Would I have needed to?” she teased, knowing by the way his hard on pressed against her that he didn’t need any extra encouragement.

“No. You’d still get me all riled up in a winter coat.” it was one of his ridiculously cheesy lines that she was sure he used on plenty of girls. But she couldn’t help but smile at it a little despite herself.

“How romantic,” she scoffed, pushing him back into a chair and sinking to her knees. Her hands ran up his thighs, kneading at the muscle covered by his ridiculously tight jeans.

She palmed him over the fabric, squeezing somewhat harshly. He didn’t mind one bit. “Fuck. Romantic isn’t the word I would use.” He especially didn’t mind when unzipped his pants and took him in her mouth. She wanted to say something about him going commando but she was a bit preoccupied with him brushing the back of her throat.

“Mmm,” she replied, whatever words she was saying were muffled by his cock in her mouth.

“Harrington is one lucky bastard,” he commented offhandedly, not thinking about his words since he was currently being deepthroated.

She pulled away instantly, as if she had been burned. She stood over him, something she wasn’t usually able to do since he was quite a bit taller than her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” she snapped, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look up at her.

He whined when her sharp nails dug into the flesh of his chin. It wasn’t a pained whine, his arousal at her roughness was evident in the way he twitched in his seat. “Nothin. Sorry.” Based on his public persona, she hadn’t expected him to be the submissive type. Not to say she wasn’t enjoying it.

“No Eds. You said something, why don’t you tell me again?” she demanded, taking pleasure in the way he reached for her with grabby hands as she stood there glaring at him.

“I heard rumors about you and Harington, if it’s true he’s a lucky guy. It was a compliment, honest,” he rambled, desperate for her to forgive him and get back to touching him where he needed it.

“You wanna know something?” She climbed into his lap, straddling him with ease in the large throne-like chair. When she first walked in she thought the chair was absolutely absurd, but now she was grateful for its width. She wrapped one hand around his neck as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “I never fucked Steve. I never wanted to.”

“No?” he choked out, having a difficult time talking due to her gripping his throat tightly in her hand. He wouldn’t ask her to stop in a million years though.

She pressed little kisses all around his cheeks and jaw, never touching his mouth with hers. This might have upset him if he wasn’t too blissed out to notice with her lacey panties pressed tight against his cock. “All those years. I only ever wanted you.”

He nodded furiously, as if to say to ‘me too, i’ve been in love with you since freshman year.’ But that's not what she interpreted it as. She grinded down on him, squeezing his neck and biting a line up his neck. “Lookit you. Can’t even talk,” she cooed.

She removed the hand abstracting his breathing so both of her hands could cup his cheeks. “Gonna be good for me?” she asked, her overly sweet voice almost taunting him. He cringed at the fact she would never be this nice to him if he wasn’t about to stick his dick in her.

That made him understand what she was feeling a little bit better. All those years ago, when he was prepared to tell her he loved her, she thought all he wanted was her body. And she used to like him, he had said it. Now it was too late and all he got was some mindblowing sex to give her closure and make him fall even deeper under her spell.

And so his heart was heavy when she pushed her panties aside and slid down onto his cock. That didn’t make it any less pleasurable when she clenched around him. He felt like he was going to pass out, barely catching the praise spilling from her mouth. “Fuck, Eds. We shoulda done this ages ago,” she moaned, carefully picking her hips up and bringing them back down slowly.

“Yeah,” he agreed lazily, letting his hands fall to her waist and rub little circles on the skin there. She went slow which he appreciated, deep slow thrusts that made both of them shiver. His heartache had faded, realizing he would be content to only be one of her conquests. He would be anything she wanted if she kept looking at him like that.

Her eyes were glassy and filled with lust. She was usually so sharp but she looked content and peaceful for once. She looked beautiful. He brought one of his hands up to the back of her hair to smash their lips together again.

It was aggressive and messy, his tongue fighting to engulf every bit of her mouth. She giggled when he pulled back and kissed her again on the tip of her nose. “So pretty,” he murmured. He could've sworn his heart stopped when her walls fluttered around him at the praise.

“Eddie,” she gasped out when he finally brought his thumb down to circle her clit. He wasn’t as experienced as her but he knew his way around, both from porn and from a few hookups where he insisted on practicing that specific skill. None of his sexual interactions could top this, being balls deep in any other girl wouldn’t even compare to the way she said his name.

“Can’t leave my girl hanging,” he teased as she moaned into the skin of his neck, forgetting to move her hips for a minute due to his fingers distracting her.

She chose to ignore the fact that he called her his girl, she could deal with that later. What she couldn't deal with later was the fact he was very clearly close to his orgasm. He had noticed as well, speeding up his pace on her clit and using his other hand to tweak one of her nipples. “Shit. I’m close. Gimme a sec, I’ll get you there.”

She chuckled softly at his insistence. Her eyes were filled with admiration or something of the sort. He almost came right there, he could handle her fucking his brains out but something about her being soft with him was what really got him going. “Don't look at me like that. I won't last.”

“You don't have to. Cum inside me. Please.” She was coming close to her peak as well, his talented fingers working wonders at ‘getting her there’ as he had phrased it.

Her offer was all it took for him to spill inside her. The thick ropes of cum pumping into her along with his lips on her neck forced her over the edge as well.

Usually after such exertion she would flop down onto a soft bed and bathe in the bliss of it all for a moment. However, they were in a tricky position so she just kind of sat there awkwardly staring at him.

It wasn’t as awkward for him. From where he was standing, or sitting would be the correct term, he had just had the best sex of his life and the girl he’d been in love with for six years was filled with his cum and sitting on his dick and keeping it nice and warm for him. “Fuck. I love you.” That shook her out of her post orgasmic haze instantly.

She shook her head, not looking at him as she started to cry. It was abrupt and he was worried he had done something seriously wrong but he continued because he needed her to know how he felt.

“You meant everything to me back then. You still do,” he admitted, his hands cupping her cheeks so she would look at him with her tearfilled eyes.

“Don’t say that,” she pleaded, begging him not to get her hopes up but he brushed her off like it was nothing.

“It’s true. I love you,” he repeated, this time with more meaning and passion if that was possible.

“Eds,” his old nickname slipped out of her mouth so easily. It hurt to hear the way she said it. Like she was cautioning him against continuing his confession, or almost like she was pleading.

“That night at junior prom, I wasn’t trying to fuck you. I was going to tell you about how I felt.” When he said that, all the puzzle pieces finally fit together in her head. But she had been telling herself for so long that he could never feel that way about her, it didn’t even compute that he was confessing his love for her over and over again.

“We’re not even 20. You can’t really think this is anything more than teenage hormones.” She was always cynical. He loved that about her but it was getting damn frustrating.

“You tell me? Do you love me?” he asked, finally turning the question back around at her. She was never a good liar.

“I can't-'' she tried to avoid the question but he cut her off.

“You’ve got my heart in your hand and I’m just asking you to break it. Do you love me?” She never realized how poetic he could be. He was always teatricial, but never like this. It made her think for a second that maybe he was serious.

Screw it, she figured. Why not? “Yeah. I do. I love you.”

He could already feel his dick hardening again at that admittance. And she could likely feel it too since he was still situated inside of her. “This isn’t going to sound very romantic, but do you want to go back to my place?” he asked hesitantly, way too timid for their current position. “Yeah I’d like that,” she replied before kissing him softly. It was slow and sweet, like they had all the time in the world. Because they did.

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction

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revenantghost · 1 year

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Tristamp Wolfwood is a bit different than his counterparts, yeah? And I don’t mean that in a bad way, Orange is going somewhere with it, but it’s very different from what they’ve done with Vash and Meryl imo. With them, I feel like we got a glimpse of pre-canon. With Wolfwood... Orange is up to something, and it goddamn terrifies me. I love him dearly, he has some many moments that make me smile and go, “Yeah, that’s Wolfwood, my beloved asshole.” But it’s different. Oh so very different.

I’m just gonna point out a few examples of things I think are different enough to note here (drawing comparisons from Trimax since that was the source for Tristamp, but I’ll try not to spoil much--just don’t Google names you don’t recognize), and then go a little off the rails with a couple theories (spoilers there, click the read more at your own peril). This is DEFINITELY not everything, and maybe my takes are a bit off, idk. If there’s something you’ve picked up on, definitely feel free to add it!

Well, here goes:

My dude is a mess. Wolfwood is typically put together and some would call him smooth (he’s a mess inside always, though) in his other incarnations. Orange pointed out at Sakuracon that the characters are supposed to look younger and more immature in Tristamp, and Wolfwood specifically is supposed to look like he can’t dress himself (lmao). They said they have their reasons but just didn’t have time to explore them in canon. So, I can make assumptions, but I’ll wait to see what comes in the future.

Another one that staff talked about in a recent interview is that Wolfwood is technically a priest according to his contract, but he calls himself an undertaker. Yeah, yeah, edgelord Tristamp Wolfwood and all that, but I’ve seen people call back to how, in the manga, it’s Vash that always takes the time to bury the dead. Wolfwood even chews him out a bit for this. But it’s literally in our introduction to him in this version. He carries the weight of the dead with him enough to make it part of his title, and that’s different for him.

I could be misremembering with this one. But I distinctly remember being surprised when I read Trimax because Wolfwood going into the Eye of Michael seemed more of his own choice than it is in Tristamp (not that a literal child could consent to, you know, torture and abuse)? But either way Wolfwood loathes the Eye of Michael from the get-go here, he doesn’t stay by choice and actively tries to escape. Just like all these choices he makes in Tristamp (which is MASSIVELY different in general), he does it for someone else. He can’t try to escape again, because they have Livio.

Speaking of! Livio!!! This was another thing that caught me by surprise going from Tristamp to Trimax, their relationship is so much different here, so much softer and it hurts in a beautiful way. I feel like less is more here to avoid spoilers, but this introduction pre-Trimax-canon and any future conflict with this backstory... is very different.

Holy hell, a moment like this happening so early?! Vash and Wolfwood having ideological differences and not understanding each other takes up so much time in Trimax. But over the course of three episodes, we go from Wolfwood killing someone that Vash wanted to save (props to Tristamp for making that gutpunch even more personal, ouch--though points deducted for not having the, “Shoot,” moment there), to Vash seeing how very similar they are and getting a grasp of why Wolfwood is the way he is. Wolfwood is so much softer in Tristamp. He’s way more emotional, he cares so deeply for things outside of himself, and he doesn’t have that apathetic bitterness. Staff have said that our main characters will be a lot more recognizable post-timeskip, so some shit is gonna happen to this man, but this is a fundamental shift in the early days of their relationship.

AGAIN!!! Wolfwood is doing this whole mission, betraying Vash, to save the orphanage. He didn’t have to listen to Vash trying to save the sandsteamer. It doesn’t matter if Vash is pissy if Wolfwood blew up the ship to save the orphanage, because that’s his end goal. He has a giant laser that just blew through an entire giant worm, this ship is nothing. Wolfwood’s trying to cling to the monster that he sees himself as, trying to stay the Punisher, but he’s not. He already has enough faith in Vash to trust him with everything he cares about. This takes a lot of development time for Wolfwood to trust Vash like this in Trimax--and even in the very end, he still doesn’t trust Vash with this. (If you know, you know.)

AGAIN!!!!! Wolfwood cares!!! He does not need to question if Vash is sure, if he thinks he can make up with or convince Knives or whatever, in fact he shouldn’t. He should give Vash no reason to question getting to July. But Wolfwood, be careful, your feelings are showing. Wolfwood’s getting worried about Vash. Even though all he needs to do is keep his head down and get this dork to July.

This was never Trimax Wolfwood’s motivation. Whatever drove him left him hollow and empty, he did not care. Even when he saw things starting to go south and he wanted out, Vash ended up being right: he was too much of a coward to do anything about it. (If you know, you know.) I had wondered, after Legato tried to bulldoze everything he loved, why the hell didn’t Wolfwood just desert the mission and team up with the gang. He already has such a deep connection with them. But this would be why.

WOLFWOOD IS NO LONGER CONTRACTED BY THE EYE OF MICHAEL AT THE END OF THE SEASON??? Some people say that Wolfwood still works for them, but tbh for what reason? They’re about to end the world. And then what about this line? He wouldn’t exactly have a choice, would he? I do think we’re gonna meet Chapel (right before Livio shoots himself, you’ll hear a voice and see a silhouette (not Razlo, though he’s there too) that seems to be a “new” character), and Wolfwood might end up working under him for some fucked up reason... But if not, this changes everything. It already changes everything considering how big Wolfwood escorting Vash to Knives is. But that’s done now. And because Vash saw right through him the first time, if Wolfwood comes back to do the same thing again, it might feel cheap and a little silly.

MERYL!!! Trimax is basically the Vash and Wolfwood show, right? The girls are around, but mainly their interactions are with Vash. But he and Meryl interact so much just over the course of twelve episodes. They even have that adorable group shot. She matters enough that he came back to rescue her, and the two of them worry about Vash together in the finale. Who knows what happened post-finale, but Wolfwood’s self isolation is already shot to hell. He’s more big brother Nico than he’d had the chance to be in awhile, he has so many people to care for.

So the danger has passed, Vash’s roots are back inside of him, the orphanage should be fine. But Wolfwood comes back for them. Yeah, yeah, the stupid cigarette excuse, but this is Wolfwood, not Vash. He didn’t come back because of the cigarette debt and we all know it. (Also kinda hoping that him saying what he does about fighting Knives being crazy is foreshadowing for some ridiculous 1v1 fight between them, had to throw that in there)

Now, theories Trimax spoiler time bby (I’ll also post any corrections under the cut):

EDIT 1: I was bonkers wrong on the Tristamp timeline (it takes place from May 25th to July 21st, not including the epilogue), so I just deleted that bit from the og post. I cannot remember where I got that number in my brain.

They are doing something with this man and I hate it as much as I love it. Every other character can go off and follow similar paths but they just nuked the entirety of Wolfwood’s storyline by having him be finished getting Vash to Knives and him choosing to trust Vash so goddamn early. And in less than a week of canon time!!! ORANGE WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!

They’ve knocked everything out of the park so far, I had so many concerns about what they were doing while watching, and they squashed most of them. So I choose to have faith that Orange has a brilliant plan that will crush my emotions in mind. It will probably eviscerate us just like Trimax did. But I have two theories as to how this could go:

First: And by far the most likely: all roads lead to that goddamned couch. They changed a ton of things, but just to make it all hurt in a new and exciting way. Don’t get me wrong, this was the final straw in making Trimax one of my favorite manga ever--Wolfwood’s character arc is one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever read. I’m a bit nervous because we’ve already shifted that arc so much, but there’s a lot of room to fuck us all up in this one. I imagine the final confrontation will still be between the two brothers, but I imagine the context will be different.

Wolfwood’s already chosen to spare Livio, so that won’t be the clincher, but there are so many things that Wolfwood wants to fight for now to use against him. Something in the timeskip will probably firm up his ideals to be the opposite of Vash’s in a different way than before, but I imagine we’ll get at least a season of them being goofy and learning how to live and regain their humanity together before they’re couched. :’) And now the girls are going to be a bigger part of it to make the grief all that greater :’))) Thanks in advance, Orange :’))))))

Second: No couch??? I know, then what would be the point? He’s doomed in every universe, how will it be as powerful if they don’t do that here??? And I agree, I think this is way less likely. But Wolfwood has already accepted the power of anime Jesus friendship into his life, and that’s a huge part of what lead to his death. Not that I don’t think it’s still likely for Tristamp Wolfwood to think it’s too much to ask Vash to step away from the conflict with Knives for whatever his personal struggles are, but... man that sandsteamer incident is foreshadowing something and I’m afraid. It shifted so much in a way that is so significant, I feel like I’m not doing it justice with my words.

Speaking of possible foreshadowing: Wolfwood isn’t the product of random experimenting like he was in Trimax, he’s the product of plant experimentation. And Vash can heal plants. Again, that’s a big ol’ stretch, as I think that they made the Gung Ho Guns a product of plant experimentation to try and explain the magic powers they all have, and it’s a very smooth idea imo. But it haunts me. Also, given that Conrad has probably been kept alive through fucked up plant methods and how long Rollo remained the same, and Conrad said the only flaw in his experiments were that they had to eat and drink... does Wolfwood and Gung Ho Gun friends have an extended lifespan??? Okay, getting off topic, sorry :’D

Basically, Wolfwood has already made huge leaps and bounds in trusting Vash, even listening to Meryl, and growing a heart for humanity. To the point I was half-afraid this guy was going to die in the finale, because we’ve already seen so much of his character arc. (It would have been a poor choice and I’m happy it didn’t happen EVEN IF I’M STILL AFRAID). And he’s based off of Trimax Wolfwood quite heavily! You can see it in the core of his personality still!!! WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO WITH HIM???

I doubt either of these ideas are going to be quite right, watch as Orange works in a secret, third thing that I can’t even imagine lmao. But this has been driving me absolutely bonkers and I had to share. This is still Wolfwood, and I have a feeling he’s only going to be more and more of the lovable asshole from here on out. But I have no idea where we’re going with it.

Holy hell, this was a long post. If you made it to the end of my insane ramblings well, uh... congrats??? I hope it was somewhat worth the read???? I’m so sorry?????? Thank you??????????

#Trigun #Trigun Stampede #Tristamp #Trimax #Trigun Maximum #Trigun Meta #I'm so tired I'm sorry about any and all typos #And also if this is stupid #It's just been GNAWING AT ME #WOLFWOOD I LOVE YOU BUT YOU SCARE ME #Long Post #My Trigun Meta

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concreteburialplot · 5 months

Text

The Wonder Of You

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!reader

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 4.5k

summary: you surprise your boyfriend with festive lingerie for his birthday. he shows you just how grateful he is with all the love he has in his corazón.

warnings: sweet, soft, FLUFFY, making love, soft dom!nick, festive (xmas-y), established dom/sub relationship, quite domestic, fingering/handjob, oral [m receiving], throat fucking, p n v, creampie, praise, again nick has a big fat one sorry it's just canon at this point - massive cocks are rare but he's got one ok, 18+ MDNI

a/n: happy birthday nicky🩷

And when you smile, the world is brighter You touch my hand, and I'm a king

Your kiss to me is worth a fortune Your love for me is everything

I'll guess I'll never know the reason why You love me as you do

That's the wonder The wonder of you

- 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙔𝙤𝙪 // 𝙀𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙨 𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙮

Your boyfriend sits in the living room while you spend time curating the perfect set up for his birthday in your bedroom. You already lit the candles, mostly unscented but some which smell like a warm campfire and one that smells like candy cane, because you know he likes that one especially. There’s a playlist softly playing in the background, curated with a mix of his favorite songs that set a tone, lots of Deftones of course.

You undress and pile your clothes on top of the hamper before slipping on the set you bought for his birthday. It was lacy red triangles covering your breasts and it flowed down over your torso in a light mesh. You step into what is really a joke and an overstatement of being called underwear – it was just a couple of straps, completely bare in the middle between your legs. A pair of puffballs hang just above your ass and the edges of the babydoll top are lined in white fluff. Stepping in front of the full-length mirror you smooth out the mesh and take in your silhouette. Your immediate reaction is discomfort, feeling like these are clothes you don’t belong in. The outfit is too revealing, too holiday-y, too colorful, too much.

But you know how much he loves Christmas and how much he won’t care what you’re wearing once he sees you in lace. Man brains are quite simple after all, he probably won’t be able to tell you the color of the outfit when he’s done with you.

You sigh, making a mental note to push your insecurities to the side for the night and try to just embrace your sensuality for him.

Your hand hesitates before turning the doorknob and peaking your head out. He must’ve gotten bored since you see him working on some tattoo design on his iPad.

“Okay. Ready.” You say quickly before shutting the door and making it to the edge of the bed. You sit and unwrap a candy cane to suck on.

It’s clear he was unsure what exactly he was walking into by the surprised look on his face as he takes in the room before landing on you.

“Oh.” His eyes wide and locked on you. “This is what you’ve been working on?” He asks, crossing the room over to you. “What’s all this for?”

“Your birthday silly.” You place the end of the candy cane in your mouth and pull it out with a pop, your eyes fixated on his.

He glances over at the clock on the nightstand reading 11:14 pm. “Well, it’s not my birthday quite yet.”

“I figured we could start off strong.” You shrug, “I’m sure by the time we’re done it’ll be your birthday anyway.”

“Quite a bold assumption, with how fucking good you look.” He jokes, not being able to stay off your body.

“Mmm.” You hum around the candy cane before pulling it out to speak. “I’m sure we can make it last.”

You find his wrist and carefully bring it down while you part your legs for him, letting his fingers find your exposed pussy.

His eyes round at the discovery, “Fuck you’re so wet already.” He mumbles, cupping your cheek to tilt your face up to him. “You’re this wet just from wanting to please me?”

You hum an “mhm” around the sugary cane looking up at him.

His fingers glide up your folds exploring you while his eyes can’t look anywhere besides your occupied mouth. “Fuck baby.” The hand on your cheek slides down to around your throat, gently with no pressure. “I need that to be my cock in your mouth.”

You knew it wouldn’t take long for him to slip into his usual self. You hook your finger at the curve in the cane and slide it past your lips, letting your lips stay parted for him.

“Mmm.” His hand around your throat slithers up to your jaw and tugs his thumb across your lips before dipping it into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around his finger and suck on him just as you would his cock. Your eyes never leave his as you do so.

“Oh, what a good girl, getting a head start.” He praises which only fuel you.

You hum and nod around his finger while your hands fumble to find his zipper. You waste no time trying to palm him over his jeans, you don’t want to keep him waiting on his birthday after all. You tug his pants and underwear down past his knees, letting his hard cock spring free smacking against his stomach. No matter how long you’ve been together the sight of his size never ceases to amaze you. It never fails to fill your tummy with excitement and fear.

You don’t hesitate to begin working his length in your hands. His skin is silky smooth to the touch and the blood rushing through his member makes his veins so prominent beneath your fingertips.

The feeling of your hands has his eyes fluttering closed for just a second. His fingers never halted between your legs, now slipping into your entrance.

He leans down and presses his forehead against yours before pulling his thumb from your mouth. His gray-blue eyes lovingly track yours as he holds your jaw gently. “You are so pretty.” He says softly in the space between you two, so quiet you’d think the room was full of people and he only wanted you to hear.

A blush coats your cheeks, and you shake your head. “No, no. I look so silly.”

“Uh uh,” He nudges his nose against yours sweetly, “You know better than to say no to me.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, because for some reason it makes you feel so safe when he asserts himself like that. “Yes sir.” You reply meekly.

The edges of his lips tug up into a grin, “That’s my girl.” He whispers.

He pulls away just a bit to glance around the room, the red LED lights with the Christmas lights hung around the room and all the candles lit. “You did this all for me?” He asks quietly, holding your chin up.

“Of course.” You whisper back, looking up at him in awe. Even when his hair in a messy bun and thick rimmed glasses, he’s still the most handsome man in the world to you. “You work so hard. You deserve a little fun. And what’s more fun than having me be a toy for you?”

A chuckle escapes his lips, “While I can’t argue with that, I don’t need all of this for my birthday. It’s just another day to me, you know that.”

“I know. But I love you.” You state softly, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. “You deserve everything, and I just want to make you feel good. I want to show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiles and leans down to your lips pressing a long kiss against them. “Well, let’s get that pretty mouth of yours to work then, hm?”

Rosy-pink tints your cheeks and a flurry of butterflies swirl in your tummy. You nod and let him pull his fingers from you. He slips them into his mouth and sucks them clean, humming at your taste. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

“Sh.” You wave off his compliment, mostly because it worsens the warmth on your cheeks.

The bed squeaks a bit as you readjust to lay flat on your stomach to be level with his cock. Your mouth waters at the sight of it. Thick and massive, the first half of his shaft a darker shade of his olive skin tone, with the second half much lighter. His tip swollen and pink with a driblet of precum pooling at the head.

You take no time in licking a fat strip up his slit before taking his head into your mouth. He lets out a grunt at the stimulation of your warm mouth around him. His hand finds your head and tangles his fingers into your hair.

You savor him, rolling swirls on the underside of his cock and then circling around the tip. His head is so big it almost fills your entire mouth, so you use your hands to take care of the rest of his length as you begin bobbing on him.

“Fuck.” He groans, tugging at your hair a bit, “Fuck that feels so good.”

You swoon at the praise which makes you work harder. Your hands working him, squeezing around his shaft for extra stimulation. You move up and down on him, taking as much of him in your mouth as you can, letting him hit the back of your throat each time.

“God, look how good you are for me, taking me so well.” He grunts a bit, rutting his hips for work just a little, knowing that too much might hurt you.

Your heart swells at his words and the noises he’s making, you can tell how much he’s enjoying himself and that’s all you wanted. You wiggle your ass up a bit just to show off just how little the strappy lingerie covers you.

“Mmm.” He hums, his hand running down your back and squeezing a cheek before landing a hard smack against it.

While you half expected it, it still stings but it’s exactly what you wanted. You know he won’t hurt you too much tonight since he’s being so sweet but usually, he loves hurting you and you love taking it.

You whine around his member and take him even deeper down your throat. You try your best to suppress a gag the deeper you go on him, but it’s not that successful. His fingers curl stiffer around your hair at the sound and swivels his hips forward ever so slightly, enough to make you gag again. He chuckles at your struggle, deriving twisted pleasure out of it. When you don’t give him a warning sign he pushes further down your throat. His favorite thing is testing just how far you’ll go for him. He loves how hard you work for him, and he doesn’t take it for granted, he loves watching his best girl choke on his cock.

You whine around him again and look up at him with your eyes filling with tears from the pain of his girth in your throat.

His lips pull to a sinister smirk at the sight of your makeup running down your face. “Oh my, look at you.” He loosens his grip in your hair and instead combs through it as he speaks. “You look so fucking gorgeous with your pretty mouth full of my cock.”

The praise alone has you nearly dripping on the bed and fills your heart with loving pride. You want nothing more than to please him and make him happy, especially on his birthday.

You moan with your mouth full and looking up at him through your thick lashes and he looks down at you in awe.

“Can I try something with you, my love?” He asks sweetly, as if he doesn’t have the power to command you to do whatever he wanted.

You pull off of him with a pop, nodding with a string of drool still hanging from his tip to your mouth.

“How about you lay on your back for me huh? Hang your head off the edge of the bed.”

Fear slithers up your spine at the idea of him having that much more access to your throat from that angle.

Nick picks up on your hesitation and bends down to your eyelevel, taking your chin gently between his fingers. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to baby. But I promise I’ll be gentle, okay? You can pat my thigh if you need me to stop.”

You tug at your bottom lip in thought but ultimately agree with an “okay” in an already raspy voice. You do as he asked and flipped onto your back, letting your head hang just off the mattress edge.

“Good girl.” He stretches out the words as he watches you put your body on display for him.

His leans down you as soon as you’ve settled. He uses both hands to gently finish brush all the rogue hairs away from your face and neck. His tattooed hands then find your cheeks and cupping them. “You are so goddamn beautiful.” He smiles, just taking in the wonder of you. “I can’t wait to make a mess out of you.”

You beam up at him and he can’t help but widen his grin. His thumb rubs your cheek tenderly before leaning down to press a kiss to your messy lips. He nudges his nose against yours, “I love you so fucking much, Princess.” He whispers.

Your heart swells at your favorite petname. With the way he treats you, he always made you feel like a princess, and he always made you feel so taken care of, so protected.

You were his. Completely, totally, entirely.

You belonged to him, and he belonged to you.

“I love you too Nicky.” You reply softly in the same low volume.

You let there be moment of comforting silence between you, your foreheads pressed against each other, his hands lovingly holding your head. You revel in the deep adoration you have for one another.

“I’m ready.”

“Okay my doll.” He presses another peck on your lips before returning to his original standing position.

He takes hold of his member by the base and uses it to press his swollen head against your partially parted lips. You open up for him, giving him full access to your mouth. He slides his length in, moving past your tongue immediately going for the throat. While the new position allows him to get deeper, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it doesn’t trigger your gag reflex nearly as much as the previous position. This discovery allows you to relax and let him have his way with you.

He starts slow to test the water with long deep strokes but soon picks up speed. His hips thrust in and out of your mouth vigorously getting lost in it.

“Gah - fuck.” He groans out in a hiss. His hand smothers down around your neck, pressing down on the sides a bit. He wanted to feel himself destroy your trachea.

He leans forward a bit, only shoving himself down your throat more, to trace his fingers down your front finding your closed, bent legs. He taps your thigh softly, “C’mon baby, let me see that pretty pussy of yours.”

You didn’t think it was possible to feel anything other than the monster in your throat but still, your cheeks heated up and a flutter grew between your legs.

You bend to him, like you always do, obeying him out of devotion not out of direction. His hand slides down your inner thigh as you spread for him. You feel a tinge of insecurity and maybe embarrassment in your revealing lingerie, the crotchless thong offering no coverage for you.

His fingers glide up between your folds, circling around your clit before reaching further down and gathering the juices at your entrance. From this angle he can’t dip inside you but god just the proximity of his touch has you pulsing around nothing. He retracts his reach and brings his fingers to his mouth, slipping them in desperately needing the taste of you. He groans around his fingers covered in your slick and continues to roll his hips harshly into your throat as he savors you.

“God, fuck baby.” He groans and slowly pulls from your throat. As uncomfortable as it was having him lodged there, it brings a vague feeling of emptiness. You love having him inside you, one way or another.

Drool connects his member to your mouth in strands, his cock coated in saliva.

“I need your fucking pussy baby. I need to feel you.” He says, slipping out of the rest of his clothes, his body on full display.

His body was tattooed almost completely. Most people wouldn’t consider a body like his anything special perse, he wasn’t muscular or toned really, mostly just lean. Except for some muscle in his arms from playing bass and lugging around instruments all the time. He’d been very skinny most of his life but as he’s gotten older there was thin extra layer around his tummy, which you loved. As long as you’d known him, he never liked to show much skin, he was never one to be shirtless for no reason. Which you never really understood because to you, he was the most attractive man in any room. But since he wasn’t fond of showing skin, there were parts of him only you got to see. Tattoos only you knew were there and knew the stories of. Tattoos only you got to trace with your fingers and your tongue.

Loving him and catering to him was an art only you knew.

You nod and sit up, but before you even get a chance to breathe, he’s grasped your thighs and tugged you the edge of the bed. He whisks you up prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. Your arms slink around his neck and you once again press your forehead against his, this time getting a good view of his eyes. In the dim light with the faint red glow from the light strips, his eyes look extra green. You loved how his eyes could change depending on the setting. It amazed you how no matter the color, blue, green or grey, they always looked perfect for him.

“You are so, so good for me. I couldn’t ask for a better girl.” He says softly.

“You mean that?” You ask past the strain in your throat, leaning forward a bit to be even closer with him.

“Of course, my darling. Look at all you’ve done for me, and how good you make me feel.” He gushes.

“I do?” You hum ghosting against his lips.

“Mhm.” He hums back.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, you reciprocate, tangling your fingers in his messy black hair before lengthening the kiss. It’s soft, sweet, loving, patient.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to escalate into a passionate flame. He climbs up onto the bed clumsily with you still wrapped around him. He carefully drops you in the middle of bed, your head landing on plush pillows without interrupting your kiss.

Your lips and tongues dance together as his hands wander your body. His soft hands gliding your every curve beneath the thin babydoll mesh. He detaches from your lips and begins kissing down your neck. His breathing is rapid and needy.

“I love you. I love every part of you,” He says hastily between open mouth kisses. “Every fucking part.”

You’re dizzy with how much you love him. “I love you too.”

He’s so fucking worked up that he’s already rutting the tip of his cock up and down your folds, putting pressure against your buzzing clit.

You whine at the sensation of his tip against your sensitivity and his sucking on the weak spot on your neck. Your hand tangles in his hair, gripping it with need.

As much as you don’t want to interrupt the sweetness of it all, you need him in a much different way. “Please fuck me, fuck I need your cock so fucking bad please.” You beg, the ache between your thighs screaming for relief.

He chuckles against your neck, even though you can tell he needs it just as bad. It doesn’t take much to bring you both back to your normal depravity. “Hm. You’re gonna have to do better than that. What is it you need baby?”

You groan a bit in defiant impatience. “Your cock. I need your fucking cock.”

“Hm. A little sassy are we? Not even a please that time.” He rolls his hips into you, sliding the underneath of his length between your soaked lips. “Let’s try again. Be more specific, what do you want?”

You huff, over his delaying. “I want your big fat fucking cock to fuck me raw. Please.”

“That’s my good girl.” The edges of his lips curl to a smirk, “Well. I think we can arrange that.”

Before you could even respond he’s already pressed his tip into your entrance. He wants to ram right into you, you can tell, but he knows better than that. He’s gotten really good at knowing how to stretch you out properly. His thumb finds your sensitive nub and begins rolling tight circles into it to help you relax around him.

“That’s it baby.” He reassures you. “You’re doing so good for me.” He fills you slowly, inch by inch carefully until he’s bottomed out. You hiss at the pain of him inside you. He fills you entirely and the stretch burns at first but sweetens when he begins moving in and out of you. Deep grumbly groans fill his chest at the feeling you tight around him.

“Fuck.” You wince a bit but let your eyes flutter close.

His movements start slow, but you feel his restraint bubbling beneath your fingertips like a volcano. “You’re doing such a good job, Princess, taking me so fucking good.” He groans into your neck.

His fingers work diligently on your pulsing clit, helping ease the pain a bit. You’ve been worked up all night thinking about this moment, combined with how his cock reaches the deepest parts of you and how his fingers work where you need him, you feel like you could explode any second.

“I’m trying to go slow baby, but you just feel so fucking good.” He says between the breathy moans that escape him. His actions match his statement, his hips working in quick but deep thrusts in and out of you.

You whine loudly at his words, only worsening you impending climax. Tingle fill your body down to your legs that wrap around his waist. You love seeing and feeling just how much he can’t control himself with you. The knot in your tummy is so tight it feels like it’s about to snap.

“I’m close.” You warn hastily, unsure of how much longer you’ll last – and you know he won’t like it if you don’t ask for permission first. “Can I cum? Please – fuck, please I’m so close.”

His fingers on your clit speed up just a bit to help you over your finish line. “Cum for me baby, c’mon cum all over my cock.”

Bright ecstasy blooms from where he works on you, sending a blazing buzzing across your skin. Explosions fill your tummy and your heart beats so fast it feels like it could rupture.

“Don’t fight it Princess, go ahead, give in to me.” He hums just beneath your ear.

Your nails dig deep into his back as your spine curves violently up from the mattress. Screams curses and moans rip through your chest and fill the room.

“Oh my, there we go.” His thrusts speeding up beginning to chase his own orgasm. “That’s my good girl, cumming so hard for me.”

His deep raspy voice and the way he’s talking you through with a bit of overstimulation from his persistent fingers pushes you over a different edge, feeling yourself squirt your juices all over his cock.

“Oh, look at that,” He lets out a strained groan. “I know it’s so much isn’t it?”

You cling onto him, biting down on his shoulder as you ride out your orgasm. His thrusts get quick and sloppy and hard, probably getting pushed over his own edge by the way your walls spasm around him.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He growls, his hands sliding beneath your thighs and hooking behind your knees to keep you in place. He slams hard into you repeatedly until he goes rigid, and you feel his cock twitch inside you – which with how large he is, is a bit painful but you love it. Milky white paints your walls and fills you up fully, pouring out of you before he even pulls out.

He rests atop of you and lets himself soften a bit before pulling from you. It’s an odd feeling being so full then being so empty, but at least you have his cum pooling inside of you for now.

He falls next to you and your chests rise and fall in time. After you’ve both come down a little, you look over at each other with glossy eyes and soft smiles.

After you both have showered and cleaned up, you change into some cozy pajamas. A unplanned cold front had rolled in so the warmest pajamas you had were matching Christmas ones. Nicholas lit the fireplace while you made your signature hot chocolate.

You cozy up next to him on the couch, beneath a blanket and a cat or two. The fireplace warmth and the lit Christmas tree are the only things lighting the room besides the glow of the mostly full moon from outside the window. You nestle your head on his shoulder and watch the fire crackle beneath the hung stockings – one for each of you and for each cat.

The heat of the hot cocoa almost burns your tongue – just almost, just like you like it. The hot drink fills your chest, warming you from the inside. Your eyes drift to the lit Christmas tree you had put up just a couple days ago. You can’t help but smile at how each ornament has a special memory attached. You take it in and appreciate it now because it is a miracle the tree lasted even this long with the cats trying to climb it every chance they got.

Even though you wanted to wait, he was so excited to put it up after Thanksgiving that you couldn’t say no. You can rarely say no to him, especially when his eyes are so bright. Holidays weren’t ever your thing, but he always made them so special. Being with him is a dream, so you savor the magic he brings.

You’ll love the holidays, as long as you have him to celebrate with.

You snuggle into him shivering a bit before looking up at him, catching him admiring the fire and the tree too.

“Hey.” You say quietly to catch his attention but not disrupt the peace. He looks down at you, with eyes so fully of contentment. “Happy birthday.”

The edges of his mouth curl into a happy grin. “Thank you, my love.” He kisses your forehead, “You didn’t have to do all of that for me.”

If you were more awake, you’d tease him and ask if he was complaining but you were far too drained for that.

“I know, but I wanted to. Because I love you.” You plant a peck on his shoulder.

“I’ll never understand why you love me as you do.” He states, using the hand not occupied with a mug to find and hold yours. “But god, am I grateful. You truly are the love of my life.”

You can’t hide the wide smile that stretches across your face and the blush that coats your cheeks. “And you are mine, Nicholas.”

tag list; i don't currently have a general tag list for all my fics so if you'd like to be added to that pls lmk!

a/n; thank you for reading if you did! i'm not that good at writing smut or fluff so sorry if it wasn't that great! this is probably the fluffiest thing ive ever written and im embarassed 🫣

Thank you for any support you guys ever give me on any of my works, it truly means the world to me that you guys enjoy my words and lil plots.

let me know if you liked it! i love hearing your thoughts🥰🩷

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year

Text

"You can trust us to stick with you through thick and thin — to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours — closer than you keep it yourself." Eddie quotes at Steve, poking him in the chest. Steve watches as Eddie sways, just a tiny bit but it betrays the facade of sobriety he'd been trying to hold.

Eddie’d once had a better tolerance but he couldn’t drink throughout his recovery and everyone was finding that Eddie is a tactile, Lord of the Rings-quoting type of drunk as a result.

They’re alone in the corner of Steve’s living room, their arms wrapped one another, and it mustn’t be shocking because no one is looking their way. Only their closest friends are present and they’re left with plenty of room to touch without strange looks.

"But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo." Eddie finishes and flashes a warm smile at Steve and sure, Steve is a little less than sober himself but it’s the same smile Eddie’s been tossing him for fucking months and Steve is just tipsy enough to catch it.

“You tryin' to tell me something, Munson?” Steve asks, reaching one arm out to steady his friend. Yeah, sure, just a friend, his mind teases.

It’s been a solid six or so months since they’d been victorious against Vecna and shut down the Upside Down for good. And okay, he and Eddie have shared a bed more nights than they haven’t since then and it’s perhaps been a lot more than just friendly to Steve, but he’s learned not to make assumptions.

People don’t always feel about him the way he feels about them, and he can handle that. He can. At least, he can until Eddie starts drunkenly quoting the Lord of the Rings at him after a few shots at his New Years Eve party leading into ‘87. He’s got one hand wrapped around the back of neck, absently tugging on the hair at the nape, and Steve is trying to sober up enough so he doesn’t kiss his friend and read this all wrong.

“You were Frodo, Steve. And I was Sam. And I love you.” Eddie says, giggly but genuinely with both his hands digging into Steve’s waist now. The grin is real— it touches his glossy eyes and spreads across his face easily.

And I love you bounces around like a rogue ping pong ball in Steve’s chest. Steve sees that Eddie’s drunk— he can tell from the giggle, the tight grip on his skin, the glossy eyes. And Steve is heartbroken. He’s been head over heels for the man in front of him for at least the three months, consciously at least, and here he is, reminding Steve of everything he can’t have.

“Man, don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it, alright?” Steve tries to make it joking, tries to laugh and smile in the way he thinks he should because Eddie's drunk but shit, if he hasn't daydreamed about Eddie saying those words to him.

Eddie though? Well, Eddie might be drunk but goddamn it he knows Steve. And he means it. He loves Steve so much, it feels like it's trying to claw its way out of his body. He's just tipsy enough to finally tell him.

“Stevie, I do mean it. I mean okay—” Eddie readjusts his Zeppelin shirt beneath his leather jacket and stands taller, fingers threading their way through Steve’s belt loops. “I may not be completely sober but I’m like, completely fuckin' in love with you? How dumb is that?” He laughs and ducks his head against Steve’s chest, wrapping his arms around back Steve's waist where this all began.

“Not dumb at all, Ed. Not dumb at all. Ball’s gonna drop soon, wanna watch it?” Steve feels Eddie's laugh against his chest where he holds Eddie tighter, suddenly afraid of beginning a new year. Eddie clings to him and Steve's brain begins a hysterical loop of questions like What if Eddie suddenly doesn't want to be this close when it's not 1986? When it's not the same year that we'd met and fought demons together? What if this fades, like everything else has?

"I dunno, do you love me? Be a hell of a way to ring in a new year, gettin' kissed by the one and only Steve Harrington!" Eddie's question throws a stick into the wheel of his looping brain, screeching it to a halt.

Steve knows this isn't the time and he knows Eddie probably won't even remember this in the morning but he does it anyways. He pulls back, takes a look around the room where all of their friends are cheering and counting down.

Robin had started the countdown at 60 seconds, just a touch too early, and they're only at 47 when Steve runs both of his shaking hands up and down the length of Eddie's arms. The last time they approach Eddie's shoulders, he keeps them there and inches closer, searching Eddie's wide, beguiled eyes for hesitation and finds none. Just finds what he always does: warmth, joy, comfort.

"39!"

"38!"

"37!"

"Ed, stop me if I've got it wrong."

"36!"

"35!"

"Definitely not wrong, Steve."

"33!"

"32!"

It's still 1986 when Steve Harrington finally kisses Eddie Munson. It's soft, gentle, close-lipped and tender without pushing for more. Eddie's fingers go numb and his toes curl in his boots, and Steve sees colors in a new way when they pull away and open their eyes.

"I do love you, Eddie." Steve says, breathless and happy in a way he hasn't been in years. He's still afraid, but even if he only gets this one moment, he's going all in for it. "So fucking much."

One palm comes up to rest on Steve's cheek, warm metal against his skin in the way of Eddie's rings. "It's not even the new year yet." He says with a laugh and a smile with his bottom lip between his teeth.

"19!"

"18!"

"Couldn't wait. I'll do it again in 1987, if you'll let me?"

"Any year, any dimension, Steve."

The countdown is getting closer and Dick Clark is yelling on the television when Steve grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him to join their friends, one arm slung over his shoulders and Eddie's around his waist. Steve gets a beaming smile and cocked eyebrow from Robin and his nod is all she needs.

"7!"

"6!"

"5!"

People start pairing off, and Steve's sober enough to realize that none of this would have made sense to him just a few months prior. Robin pulls Nancy closer with the hand not holding an obnoxiously loud noisemaker, Argyle smiles meaningfully at Jonathan, and Steve finds himself being spun back to face Eddie.

"Ready?"

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

It's 1987 when Eddie Munson finally kisses Steve Harrington. They don't join the chorus of Happy New Year's! around them because it's Eddie's turn to kiss Steve, and he fucking does. A little harder, a little more tongue, a bite or two when Steve returns the same eagerness and impatience. It's Eddie who breaks the kiss, lips shiny and swollen.

"Gotta good feeling about '87, Stevie. Got a really good feeling."

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st fanfic #myfic #fun fact: i wrote this in a draft on here last night while drinking and completely forgot about it until now #it's definitely not inspired by /me/ quoting lotr when i've had a couple of drinks (as several people found last night)#oops i gave eddie another personality trait <333 #alcohol tw #myblurbs

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hungwy · 2 months

Text

I’ve seen many people reblog a post which contains tweets that, in my eyes, amount to a single complaint that is only half true (but that I agree with for the most part). But anyway, here’s a longpost:

(tweet in question)

I think it’s mostly wrong to say FPS multiplayer “peaked” ("was most fun for the playerbase"?) with Source games in the way presented. Believe it or not, you can still join a server with 30 people playing on a user map with fucked up assets everywhere, and some of the 30 people playing will be 14-year-olds with bad mics getting mad at being spawn killed by someone with 20,000 hours in the game. In fact, there are servers like this in most Source games, including Garry’s Mod, TF2, and CSS and CSGO (but honestly I think TF2 is most representative of the above scenario). I just launched Valve’s community server browser and have found an unending list of silly-sounding servers for TF2: Minecraft trade, Murder at the Mannor, Zombie Escape, Medieval Mode, all full or near-full. I checked Garry’s Mod: SCP-RP, Zombie Survival, Clone Wars Roleplay, “Swamp Cinema”, 1980’s Mafia Roleplay, DarkRP (x20), again, all well-populated. Admittedly CS2 was mostly deathmatch servers (due to it being Source 2 and not Source and so missing a lot of plugins that would allow for “fun” servers), but CSS still had surf, bhop, minigames, and jailbreak servers still going and full. My server browser won’t show CSGO for whatever reason, but up until CS2 released I know for a fact that these silly ass servers still exist there too. The implication that these servers and their conditions are gone is wrong. You don’t want a server with the exact same conditions though, I think you want to relive the specific memories you’re having and feel happiness again. But maybe I’m going too far there.

How about this. I’ll give it to you, Dusk developer, that for you FPS multiplayer peaked with insane TF2 trade servers, but you also make boomer shooters for a living, so I think you’re biased towards enjoying an older generation of games anyway. Modern FPS games are fantastic and in their own ways contain a lot of fun. Modern games in general fill the spaces that, for you, TF2 servers filled. Have you seen Roblox minigames and Minecraft server plugins? They’re actually crazy and decently well made. I’m excited that kids have grown up in such a good environment for games. They have tons of options that we didn’t have back then. It’s awesome! Like, don’t let your nostalgia blind you to the fact that kids are having just as much fun as you now. TF2 and Garry’s Mod are not the be-all, end-all of FPS multiplayer fun. That sentiment I completely disagree with and think people should get over.

But like, how the hell does competitive gaming play into this? I truly don’t buy the wording of “Esports and competitive ranking ruined multiplayer”. It’s just not true. Not only are the servers you’re mourning still exist, they’re still well-populated and their “golden age” coincided with some of the greatest heights in competitive FPS gaming. You know what’s funny? When CSGO released in 2012, TF2 saw a drop of almost 10,000 average players. It recovered basically the next year. Besides a small dip in 2018, TF2 had held around 50,000 average players since its release, until 2019 where its average player-count has risen to about 80,000 players. Garry’s Mod wouldn’t peak in total concurrent players until 2015 and has had a dedicated core of players averaging around 25,000 since like 2013. Seriously, these are incredibly consistent player-counts throughout the release of Overwatch, PUBG, Fortnite, Apex, and Valorant. In fact, contrary to the tweeter's implicit assumptions, it seems like nothing much has changed, and that competitive gaming did not, at all, ruin or depopulate these “fun” spaces.

So, again, how does competitive gaming and esports play into this? Only thing I think is valid is the fact that a few popular modern FPSes don’t do the whole “community-hosted server” thing: Apex, Fortnite, PUBG, Valorant, and Overwatch all do not have native community-hosted server support. Which, to be frank, is bad for their competitive gaming scene too! Esports has ALWAYS used self-hosted servers for practicing to get better. I don’t know the argument for not having these sorts of things, maybe not developing the toolkit for these things is easier than developing them. IDK. But I agree that it is bad that many popular games don’t support this sort of thing. The “self-hosted netizen” is a category of person that’s been declining for a long time regardless of the effect of competitive first-person shooter games on the casual first-person shooter games self-hosted server market. But again, for the topic of the post, I think this is a completely nonsensical implication. As far as I can tell ALL Valve-made Source engine games have active and popular community servers still, and the popular games ALL have very populated servers with “fun” gamemodes and atmospheres. Competitive has grown very popular, yes. It's true. It's fun to compete, everyone knows it. But esports has taken very little if anything away from the casual playerbase of Source games.

(Also, for the record, during the actual multiplayer FPS golden age of the time, Xbox 360 and Playstation 3 shooters, there were no self-hosted servers for us, and it was still the most fun anyone ever had playing casually on console. It was the age of trickshotting and montages, man! For the intent of this post that exact restriction counts as “keeping players from interacting with one another” yet these games, especially COD, were, uh… infamously social. Not to mention these games had competitive scenes alongside the casual scene perfectly fine.)

I think, really, ignoring the actual content of the tweet, these tweets are just about nostalgia for your childhood. Which is fine! You can miss things you used to do for fun and no longer do. Probably every human that’s ever existed has gone through this. I mean, again, it is kind of popular in current culture to be nostalgic. The 90s aesthetic, early 2000s media, retro games, super hero movies, cartoons being consumed by adults to a greater degree than ever, et cetera. I think to some extent the complaint itself isn’t like, a completely unclouded judgement of the Decline of The Beauty of Multiplayer Gaming throughout the years. The concrete complaints in those tweets seem both a little rose-tinted and unnecessarily doomerpilled to me. But like, regardless, it’s kind of your fault for not returning to these things, man. Go join one of those servers if you’re not busy being an adult with a job and friends and other obligations that may keep you from doing things that you’re not used to and have fun like you did in childhood. Or is that what's actually the problem…? I don’t know. A suggestion. I just think in the end the complaint isn't valid.

This post is long and I had a LOT of thoughts that I may have missed or chopped off at the incorrect time. I think the picture I'm trying to build has probably been communicated, though? Maybe I’m not considering something, maybe I overinterpreted implications, maybe the fact that the playerbase of TF2 and Garry's Mod being highly consistent for ten years or whatever is not indicative of anything I've said, but I hope regardless you understand that like, at least part of this tweet is weird to say in the ways I've attempted to untease. People young and old are still having crazy times in video games and esports has done, as far as I can tell, absolutely nothing to change at, ever.

Turning off reblogs because I have a feeling anyone who doesn't follow me might become annoying about this

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arielburrow · 10 months

Note

Joe being nervous of you meeting his family

Pumpkin Pie

nothing like a Thanksgiving fic in June 🤭

Fall in Ohio was definitely your favorite time of the year. The leaves changing always signaled to you mentally that football season was in full swing and the holidays were around the corner.

You take in the scenery for a moment before continuing to your boyfriends front door. “Joe!” you call out, entering his home.

“Hey you!” he welcomes you with a warm hug after being away from each other for a week. You traveled to Pennsylvania to visit family and attend an event with other NFL photographers that the league hosted annually.

“How was your trip? How’s your mom doing?” he questions as you both take a seat on the couch.

“Shes doing good, I saw my sister, it was really nice to be home for a bit and see everyone before they leave.” Your mom was traveling to Europe with her lifelong best friend, which you were a little concerned about at her age, but she insisted it had to be checked off the bucket list. Your sister was also heading to Florida to stay with her husband’s family for Thanksgiving, so your mom wanted everyone to be together since you’d be apart for the holiday.

“That’s good to hear, but i’m glad your back, I missed you a lot.” He smirks pulling you to his chest.

“I know Joe I missed you too, you know it’s funny we’ve only been officially dating for a month and I don’t even like being apart from you for a week.” You giggle into his chest.

“Yep. Joe Burrow effect.” He innocently shrugs receiving a nudge from you causing him to laugh.

“Hey I have a question….” he leads on. You look up to him with a bit of concern.

“Can you…I mean….do you by any chance like pumpkin pie?”

You laugh at his demeanor, he seemed almost scared for your response. “ I love pumpkin pie Joe, why do you ask?”

“oh thank GOD.” he looks almost relieved as he stands from the couch and walks to the fridge. You watch as he pulls a Costco pumpkin pie from the fridge, this of course being the only thing in the fridge besides a bottle of ketchup. He grabs two forks and heads back to you, placing the pie between you two and handing you a fork.

“Here.” he smiles and reaches for the remote to find a movie.

“Plates?” you ask.

“Nope, we don’t need them.” he insists.

“alright then.”

After a long night of Joe showing you how much he missed you, you got up early for a workout with your best friend.

She catches you up on her guy drama and you fill her in on Joe.

“Oh so you’re going to Thanksgiving with Joe’s family? That’ll be fun!” She responds to you’re blurb about you being home for the holiday.

You whip your head towards her as you both push through the stairmaster.

“Um what?” You respond in complete shock at your assumption.

“Well yeah…I mean, what is Joe gonna do, drive to Athens and leave you here for Thanksgiving? No way, he’s gonna want you to go with him.”

“I’ve never met his family before though, he makes them sound so sweet but that’s like a huge thing.” You respond between huffs, wiping your hand of the sweat along your forehead.

The two of you go back in forth on the conversation as you finish your workout. Leaving the gym you couldn’t help but to overthink the situation. Was Joe assuming you would just go with him? He might not even be considering it?

After showering and ordering takeout, you finally have time to wind down in your own apartment. You were finishing up some editing when Joe texted.

Joe❤️- dinner tmr night, I’m cooking

you- you mean your chef is cooking?

Joe❤️-😉

The next day you spend at the facility and finishing up more editing. Heading to Joe’s house the question rings through your head again. Does he want me to meet his parents?

You can immediately smell the fajitas Joe requests weekly as you walk into his house. You greet his chef and make your way upstairs do find him on the phone with someone. You walk into his room quietly and plop down next to him, soon able to put together that he must be talking to his mother. As he hangs up he turns back to face you, pulling you into him. “You hungry?” he questions. “Starving” you respond pulling him up from the bed to go back downstairs.

You both take a seat at the table as the chef brings over the food; both expressing your gratitude for the meal, after all, neither of you could cook. Without Joe’s chef, takeout would be the only option. You both make small talk throughout dinner and go over each others days.

“I heard you talking to your mom, how is she doing?” you ask picking up the glass of water. “She’s good, she was just checking in on things, asking me about Thanksgiving and stuff. I’m on pumpkin pie duty because she knows i’m picky about where the pie is from.” He babbles on, you laugh at the pie comment. “You know i’ve know you for almost a year and was given no insight into the punpkin pie fanatic that you are.” he gives you a surprised look. “Umm, what do you mean? Friendsgiving last year? At Jamarr’s? The pie that everyone was raving about…the one that I brought.” He goes on bragging about this situation which you have zero memory of, but give him the credit any way.

“So, since your family’s all out of town, what are you going to do for the holiday?” he looks up to you with seemingly hopeful eyes. “Um I don’t really know honestly, maybe i’ll just hang around here or go to Anna’s place?” you responded taking both of your plates to the sink.

“Why don’t you come with me?” he asks. “To Athens for the night, we won’t stay long cause of practice and everything but it would be nice for you to meet my family” he picks up the dishes to clean as you seat yourself in a barstool across from him.

“You’re ready for me to meet them?” you ask watching him load the dishwasher. “Yeah, I mean i’ve been wanting you guys to meet for a long time and they never get to see you at games cause your always on the field.” he says.

You think for a moment, then smile. “Yeah i’ll go with you.” He smiles in return, walking over to you and sitting with you on the couch. “Can you stay tonight?” He asks pushing a strand of hair from your face. “I have to go to the office early tomorrow, like earlier then you go for practice,” you say to him. “That’s fine, I have to meet with Brian anyway.” he returns. “Okay then, im staying,” you respond shifting yourself to lay in his lap as he finds a show to watch. “My moms going to be so happy your coming,” you smile as you hear him say it before dozing off.

A week later your packing a bag for Joe’s house. You were heading over there tonight, and leaving tomorrow morning for his parents house. You had him on FaceTime at the moment as you got everything together. “I hope you like them, I mean i know they’ll love you, but I hope you like them and-”

“Joe” you cut him off laughing. “They’re you’re parents, i’m going to love them, don’t you worry. I’m the one whose supposed to be nervous not you!” you giggle. “I know, I know, it’s just really important to me you know? I love you and I want you to feel like you’re apart of the family.” You smile at what he says. You and Joe confessed your love for one an other a while ago, but it still made you blush hearing him say the phrase. “I love you too Joe, and I promise i’m so excited to become apart of your family.” You pick up the phone to see his face. You and Joe had a funny dynamic. Technically you had only been together for a month, but you fell for him way before that. The day you were hired by the Bengals you knew there would be a professional problem because you became addicted to him. His looks, his jokes, just being around him was like a drug for you and you knew there was no escaping. You were definitely a little nervous about meeting his parents, but you were excited that this was happening. It made this whole dream feel a little more real.

The next morning you wake up in Joes arms. The two of you spend the morning getting ready and Joe expressing his little worries to you which you insisted he stoped talking about. “You know they’re going to drown you with questions right?” He asks you getting in the car. “Joe, that’s okay, all you need to worry about is your pumpkin pie.” You console him cupping his cheeks as you lean over to kiss them. He glances to the backseat to ensure it’s there, making you laugh.

The drive to Athens is quiet and relaxing, you let Joe have aux for about 15 minutes before you steal the cord. Pulling into his parents driveway, you take in the old red brick home that seems to be gushing with childhood memories. Joe’s parents appear and you meet them with a warm hug and hello. Robin hugs Joe tightly after not seeing him for a few weeks. Walking into the house you’re immediate hit with the sweet smell of cinnamon spice and you can’t help but smile. The four of you take a seat on the couch and Robin explains that others will be joining soon. She asks about your job and how you like working with the organization. “It’s honestly amazing, I worked in Seattle for a while, but it doesn’t even compare to this organization, and it’s nice to be able to work back in my home state,” you say. “It’s definitely something special, they really care.” Jimmy chimes in with a smile. After some more small talk Joe and his dad talk football while Robin gathers photo albums. She sits with you as she shows you baby Joe and gives you a backstory on the pictures. You die over each picture which Joe rolls his eyes at. “I was three!” he yells over your reaction to the picture of him running bare naked in the street with a football in his hand.

You could immediately tell Joes parents were something special, they are a big part of the man he is today and you were so happy you got to join the Burrows.

Others arrive soon after, and the house fills with chatter. You make your way around meeting the others and saying hi to Joes friends who also joined dinner, who you have met before.

You help Robin and Joes aunts in the kitchen for a while, the four of you chattering for hours before Joe pulls you aside.

“So?” he asks. “So what Joey? You want a rating on your family? I love them, I love all of this, I promise. Stop overthinking this and go sit with your friends.” You reach up to kiss him on the cheek and he smiles and nods.

You finish helping with dinner and setting the table with Joe. You all finally sit down together, the table beaming with chatter and laughter. “Thank you all for being with us, those of you who were on time, and those who showed up five minutes ago.” Jimmy says glancing towards Joes brothers, causing everyone to laugh. “I’m just kidding, but really it’s nice to have everyone under the same roof for the holiday.” “we love you all, now please eat!” Robin adds with a smile. You make small talk with different relatives at the table and with Joe. After dinner, you sit with Robin and Joe’s aunts, while the guys do the dishes.

“So y/n, you and Joe are absolutely adorable, really I know that boy and how he is with girls and he is really in love with you.” His mom’s sister comments with a smile. You return the smile and you can’t lie that you felt a blush from that comment. You loved that she picked up on that. “Do you see your family often?” the other sister asks. “Sometimes, most of them are in Pennsylvania so they come to games some times and I just went up there last week to visit.” you respond. Everyone joins in the living room as Joe serves the pumpkin pie. Robin puts on a Christmas movie, insisting that it was now Christmas season, which you couldn’t argue with.

Joe takes a seat next to you and you rest your head on his shoulder. The rest of the night is filled with reminiscing on childhoods and lots of football. You hug everyone goodbye and Robin pulls you in tight. “Thank you y/n” she whispers “he really needs you” she smiles and moves to hug Joe goodbye. The drive home is again a comfortable silence that you happily doze off to, knowing you’re family just expanded tremendously.

#joe burrow #joeburrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x reader

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snifflesthemouse · 2 months

Text

Is Harry Suing the UK to Hide Truth of Visa and Security?

Let’s talk about a few things going on in the Royal News World, Shall We?

This mouse isn’t completely sure of coming back entirely, but I figured a post here and there would be fine. Let’s get started.

My people come bearing some insights: Just about everyone in the aristocracy is openly aware that Harry isn’t truly cut off. As a matter of fact, some believe that Harry is only in the US because Charles sent him here and he is in fact on an A1 visa. Not so much as a banishment, but as a way to play both sides of the media circus and keep them all relevant. The whole world tunes in every time something pops up.

What brings more clickbait? Ask yourself the hard questions, though, don’t take the easy route. I’ve seen some things going around, and I see people truly never ask the hard questions.

I pray for the day when everyone wakes up and realizes that being elderly doesn’t make you harmless or innocent. This author was told the same things about Harry not being told about the diagnosis for the cancer until we all heard, BUT BEFORE. Interesting that ever got leaked out in the press, isn’t it? Why even tell us when he got told? Harry probably leaked it and did it to make Charles look favorable. Do you think Charles would let it get leaked? To what end? To look like the loving, yet firm father everyone demands him to be, the man that he cannot. The man he is not.

And now there are articles coming out about the contingency plans for Charles being sick. Harry is not in them, at all. Why would he need to be? Doesn’t that say a lot? The fact people have to be told Harry isn't included is silly. But you know what they say about assumptions.

Now, I was told by a friend that’s a doctor the whole story of the cancer being found during the prostate stuff made no sense. They would’ve seen other indicators beforehand. They ARE the greatest medical professionals on the planet, aren’t they? You mean a PET scan or blood test or anything like that, at all, wouldn’t hint at the other problems? This was a choreographed release of information.

It's being suggested that the press will be informed to release a cascade of tidbits over the coming weeks. Lady C said early spring, before summer. She also said it was Princess Anne who made the “racist baby” comments, and that was also a ruse. I’m pretty sure Lady C picked Team Charles back in the 80s, and she’s been working to gain grace and favor since. I think she wants to seem like she knows things to sell books or views. Go, girl, get that paper.

Speaking of paper, it was suggested one of the main reasons Charles was so upset with Harry when he “rushed right over” was because he asked for more money. Anyone could assume that but think about what he did immediately afterwards. He went over there only to have something to give an interview for. He got paid to “not squeal” on an interview. The Sussexes don’t lift a finger for free… they only lift them for freebies. Or money.

If Harry is here on an A1 Visa as a favor between Charles and the US, that means we are paying for that security in America. No wonder Harry is suing the UK, he needs to make it look like he needs something when he already has it. How would they possibly have the money to pay for their own? I posted the mortgage documents, remember. Do the math. They have 10 years to pay that house off in full before they get a 7.48% interest rate. They have upkeep, services, servants, nannies, clothes, utilities, maintenance that must be maintained or the bank could come in and do it themselves… Those things aren’t cheap. You have to have a faucet of money coming in to handle it all. They don’t even have a drip.

Oh, and I was told to really look at Harry’s page on the Royal website. And that the minute Wills gets that crown, his brother will be done for. Which is why Charles could be trying to be a father instead of a king in that situation. Then again, if Wills had hard feelings for both Charles and Harry, and Charles had a jealousy over Wills and the Queen… that’s a lot of ifs

One this is for sure. Harry will NEVER return to the BRF in a working capacity. Everything is a dance of smoke and mirrors.

It makes total sense to have Harry here on an A1 visa, have him in constant litigation with the UK so we peons think he needs security, but in reality he is here on a visa supplying him the protection he thinks he deserves. Of course, an FOIA would need to be filed, probably… I wonder if I could do that and see how he is really here. I don’t believe he is here on an O1 or spousal visa.

What is the real reason for all of this, people? It's just Flying Pasta, like before.

#megxit #prince harry #uk royal family #government

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proseover-bros · 1 year

Text

FOR THE ONES WE LOVE | CH. 1

FANDOM: The Walking Dead

SERIES: For the Ones We Love

STATUS: Ongoing

ERA: Prison

PAIRING: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Female Reader (No Use of “Y/N”)

CHAPTER ONE: Backseat Driver

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Daryl Dixon gets much more than he bargained for when his motorcycle breaks down while out on a run. Miles from the prison, he has no other choice but to hot-wire a car he comes across on the side of the road, only to discover that he wasn’t the first person to get there.

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Language, Mention of Attempted Sexual Assault, Symptoms of PTSD

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: While I’m not new to writing fanfic, this is my first attempt at Tumblr fanfic, which is somewhat different than what I’m used to. I have a whole backstory dreamed up for this character (she’s a nursing student who escaped from Grady Memorial after it was overtaken by Dawn and Gorman), but I know from what I’ve read of Tumblr fanfic, self-insert fics are preferred. This is my first attempt at that, so any constructive criticism is welcome. Please let me know your thoughts on the story as well. I have several chapters already written, just trying to decide what format to proceed with/if there’s an audience for it.

“Wow, thanks for that.”

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice coming from behind him, Daryl Dixon’s eyes flew to the rearview mirror as you sat up from where you’d been lying in the backseat of the car he’d just hot-wired. The all too familiar noise of a hammer clicking into place sounded as you lifted your arms, aiming a revolver directly at the back of his head.

With the way you trained the gun on him, combined with the intense gaze in your eyes, he knew that you’d shot it before.

Of course you had.

A woman, alone in this world?

There was no way in hell you could’ve survived as long as you had not knowing how to use a gun.

Daryl cut the engine and raised his hands. “This your car?”

You shrugged. “No, but I was here first.”

“I got it runnin’, that makes it more mine than yours.”

“I was getting to that.” You said defensively.

“Bullshit.” Daryl scoffed. “Ya don’t know how to hot-wire a car.”

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause ya ain’t that kinda girl.”

The stranger’s assumption pissed you off, but what pissed you off even more was the fact that he was right. Before he came along, you’d been close to having a full-on meltdown when finding the car just a few minutes earlier, only to discover that the keys were missing from the ignition. There’d been a hell of a lot of abandoned cars that you’d passed during your travels over the past couple of weeks, because apparently even after a goddamn apocalypse, nobody left their keys behind.

And who was he to pass judgement on you? With his Harley Davidson vest, greasy hair and the ability to steal a car in the first place, this guy was lucky you’d given him any warning at all. Although you hadn’t spoken to another human being since escaping the hospital, and were beginning to think you were missing even the most trivial of conversations, you had quickly come to the conclusion that human interaction was entirely overrated.

Especially with this particular human.

“How the hell do you know what kind of girl I am?” You practically growled.

Daryl hesitated, knowing that he ought to tread lightly, yet somehow his mouth decided to run off anyway. “Just do.”

Your eyes widened as you lunged forward to press the barrel of the gun to the back of his skull. “You don’t fucking know me.”

Dumbass, Daryl scolded himself.

What was he thinking, arguing with someone who was pressing a loaded gun to his head? After all this time spent fighting to survive, did he have a death wish all of a sudden?

With his hands still raised, Daryl nodded, his senses finally returning to him. “We can change that. I’m Daryl.”

Suddenly, a memory of your mother warning you not to talk to strangers appeared as the man introduced himself, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. After a few seconds, you lowered your gun and laughed out loud, no longer able to keep it inside.

The entire situation was absurd. You were running on zero sleep, hadn’t eaten anything in days, and hadn’t spoken to another soul since you’d left Atlanta. It was the most inappropriate thing in the world to be laughing in your current situation, and yet you couldn’t stop.

Daryl hesitated. He thought he might be okay at handling a pissed off woman — but a crazy, pissed off woman?

Might as well shoot myself now.

“Ya crazy or somethin’?” Daryl found himself asking.

You laughed harder at his question, leaning against the backseat as your sides started to ache. “Or something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ya gotta name or not?”

Once regaining your composure, you peered over the passenger seat and noticed the large crossbow that he’d laid down while working on getting the car started. You also noted the backpack slung over his shoulder with several arrows sticking out through the flap. “Give me your arrows and any other weapons you have. Maybe I’ll tell you then.”

“Don’t wanna know that bad.”

“Hah.” You rolled your eyes, aiming the revolver at his head once more. “Wasn’t asking.”

With an irritated grumble, Daryl shrugged off his bag and handed it over. There was a brief pause while he rummaged around in his pants and pulled out a pistol, extending it to you handle first.

“No knife?” You asked suspiciously.

He cursed under his breath, but a few seconds later you had a hunting knife to add to your collection as well. Finally satisfied, you met his eyes in the rearview mirror and told him your name.

“You alone?”

“Looks like it.”

The silence between the two of you clung in the air like smoke. Daryl kept his eyes glued to you now that you had all of his weapons, minus his crossbow, which was useless without the bolts.

He didn’t pride himself on much, but one of the few things that he’d always felt he excelled at was being a good judge of character. The woman in front of him was young, probably mid-twenties, and pretty. In Daryl’s experience, pretty women were absolute bitches, but not necessarily dangerous. Even so, he couldn’t brand you with that particular title just for pulling a gun on him. You were only protecting yourself.

“Mind lowerin’ that thing? I did give ya all my weapons.” Daryl reasoned.

You paused, but reluctantly lowered your gun, your eyes locked on his as you sat it down on your lap.

“How’s that?” You asked.

“Depends, can I turn around without havin’ to worry ‘bout ya blowin’ my head off?”

You stilled at his words but found yourself slowly nodding your head in agreement.

When Daryl turned all the way around to face you, you held your breath. The last time you’d been this close to a man, it was Gorman, and he had tried to assault you.

The world had been a dangerous place for women far longer than it had been for men. Men may have recently had to learn what it was like to fear strangers now that the world had ended, but it had aways been something to fear for women, which made it twice as frightening these days.

As you studied Daryl, you noticed that he had lighter facial hair than that on his head, and pale blue eyes. With his intense gaze and bare biceps, he had a rugged air about him that you had a feeling he’d always possessed. He seemed like the kind of man who didn’t need an apocalypse to know how to fight for his life.

The two of you remained as you were, staring at each other for a tense moment, sizing each other up and down as you both tried to decide whether or not the other was a threat.

“Lay down.” Daryl grunted.

“What?” You blanched, your hand moving towards the revolver once more.

“Down!” He hissed.

Jumping over the partition dividing the front and back sections of the car, Daryl slid to his knees, tucking himself in the floor space behind the passenger seat, his hands clutching you by the elbows as he pulled you down, tugging your body flush against the backseat cushions.

When Daryl grabbed you, your first thought was a vile one, but your grip around the gun relaxed ever so slightly when he landed beneath you rather than on top of you.

“What the fu—” You cried as you both lurched forward, a series of bangs sounding at the rear of the car. Rather than finish your crude sentence, you cut yourself off when Daryl’s hand covered your mouth. Feeling your jaw tense against his palm, he raised a finger to his lips when his eyes met yours, slowly easing his hand away as a horde of walkers appeared from a clearing in the woods by the side of the road.

You both remained that way for what truly could have been hours, the only sound being your heavy breathing and the groans of the horde as they trudged along either side of the car like cattle. When the noise finally died down some time later, Daryl held a hand out to signal for you to wait, then eased up on his haunches ever so slightly, peering out the front windshield to find that the horde had wandered off up the road.

Once given the all clear, you slowly lifted your body from the backseat, your hand instantly going to the side of your neck as you attempted to work out the kink that had formed there from laying in such an awkward position.

“Jesus.” You muttered.

Remaining where he was for fear that you’d think he might try something now that he was in close proximity of his weapons, Daryl kept his eyes on you for a few silent seconds.

“Look, I know all about wantin’ to be alone, but no one can make it alone now. You can keep my weapons, even hold your damn gun on me while I drive, but I have a camp a few miles back. My bike broke down, s’why I was lookin’ for a ride, but I can take ya someplace secure. I’m with a group of people back at a prison.”

“A prison? Really?” You asked curiously.

Christ. Was that actual hope in your voice? Had the last year not completely crushed you of that?

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded. “There’s eight of us. Men, women, a boy, and a baby.” Nodding towards his backpack, he continued. “Open it.”

Cautiously moving your hand to his backpack, you unsnapped the top and drew back the flap to reveal several tins of powdered baby formula. Running your fingers over the lids, you hesitated, your eyes slowly returning to Daryl. If this was some kind of trick to get you to come along, it was pretty elaborate.

“I just gotta ask ya three questions first.” He said.

With your curiosity getting the better of you, you shrugged your shoulders. “Go for it.”

“How many walkers ya killed?”

“Walkers? You mean, the living dead freaks that have taken over the world?”

Daryl nodded.

“I don’t know. Who keeps track of that shit?”

Daryl had to admit, at least to himself, you had a point. But it was one of the questions that Rick insisted on asking newcomers, and he wasn’t about to start breaking his rules for anyone.

Seeing that Daryl wasn’t willing to budge on the question, you sighed as you thought about it. “A dozen, at least.”

“How many people ya killed?”

Your mind instantly went to the lifeless eyes of Gorman and Dawn.

“Two.” You answered, without a hint of remorse.

“Why?” He asked.

You stared at him, expressionless. “I’m a woman and I’ve pretty much been on my own since the world ended. Why do you think?”

Daryl stared right back at you, and in his fierce blue gaze, you knew that he understood you completely.

“All right, let’s go.”

“That’s it? I passed?” You asked, surprised.

“Looks like it.” He grunted, using your choice of words from earlier and earning a small smile from you because of it.

“Okay.” You agreed. “I’ll ride back here, and I won’t hold my gun on you . . . unless you drive too slow.”

“Pfft.” Daryl scoffed as he climbed back over to the driver’s side and began to work on restarting the car. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that.”

CHAPTER TWO

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gogandmagog · 27 days

Text

✨Anne Blythe’s (Anne Shirley-Blythe’s namesake granddaughter) father is not Jem. It’s Shirley. It’s totally Shirley, you guys. It’s gotta be.✨

And like, Ieading right off by saying of course there’s no definitive answer to be had here, since Maud obviously isn’t available to confirm or refute any hypothesises, but I do big persist in suggesting that a very rational case can be presented for Shirley... one that at least outweighs what I now see as the generally baseless widely accepted assumption that Anne is Jem’s daughter. Keep in mind, I’m in no way trying to dog on this. The assumption is ready and easy to make, and I’d accepted fully this theory too, until about a week agooo.

ABOUT A WEEK AGO, I was poring over various Wikipedia entries for the Anne book series, and inevitably also ended up looking through the edit history of those pages. While sorting through the edit history (super extensive and interesting, by the way), the username ‘blefebvre’ popped into the archive, contributing a ton of information to the Anne pages overall, around 2008 and 2009 particularly. And literally, who else could this user be besides THE Benjamin Lefebvre? Brilliant Maud scholar and essayist, inexhaustible editor and publisher of ‘the Blythes are Quoted’? Welllll, one of these edits, a written family tree of Anne and Gilbert’s grandchildren, mentioned Anne Blythe... and pointedly noted that she was either the daughter of Jem or Shirley.

Reading that? Already a huge jump-scare surprise to me. This immediately challenged what I thought I knew about the third generation of Blythes. I sat straight up in bed, brain doing a nosedive, like wait wait wait wait wait… hold on, what? We don’t know for sure? We don’t know for sure?

Guys. We don’t know for sure.

Whichhhhh sent me on an immediate hunt to gather up what we do know for sure. The facts we do have. And it wasn’t a huge task, either… there’s really not a lot to collect.

But here it is:

In ‘the Blythes are Quoted’, Anne Blythe is mentioned in only one story, titled “The Road to Yesterday” (not to be confused with the TBAQ abridged predecessor book of the same title 😅).

All we really have of her is her name, and a couple of superficial second-hand anecdotes from a guy named Jerry (who is impersonating a fellow named Dick, but more on this a little later).

Her paternity is unconfirmed, but because her surname is Blythe (not Ford or Meredith), we can logically eliminate the possibility of her belonging to Nan, Di, or Rilla. Walter was, of course, lost in France. This leaves Jem and Shirley.

Tiny details about Anne.

As a matter of housekeeping, let me try to get the jump on any potential counter-arguments, and clear the air.

The only reason I’ve seen Jem credited with Anne is because…

1. Jem was married.

That’s the entire basis.

And I’ll grant you that. This is more than we got for Shirley. But let’s remember that at the end of ‘Rilla of Ingleside’, we only had a canon engagement between Jem and Faith... it takes getting around to ‘the Blythes are Quoted’ to absolutely conclude that their marriage went through. With the added extra bonus of finding out that they have children.

But even allowing that, ‘the Blythes are Quoted’ as an epilogue isn’t all inclusive. It isn’t a complete picture. It’s half a picture at the very best. Maud, pressured greatly, basically dumped all her disorganised, non-chronological and unedited Anne relevant WIPS + short stories + poems on her publisher's desk two days before she died. This is not a book that Maud put together, as a tailpiece collection. It was an assortment of partial works and in-character conversations that she’d tinkered with over decades. Works she never intended to see being published. They were vague ideas she was forming, little seeds. (It took a lot of effort from Benjamin Lefebvre to put TBAQ together in a readable way that made sense.)

Maud was over Anne. Over Anne by twenty years, at this point. So much so that noticeable character details and world building started slipping in Ingleside and Rilla… for obvious instance, in the lack of continuity around Shirley’s birth year, and the way readers saw almost no closure/representation for Shirley and Di, with varying degrees of near erasure in the original books.

But this doesn’t mean that Maud didn’t have plans for these two characters... their incomplete or unsatisfying stories certainly weren’t nefariously intended to be that way (there’s no secret meaning to the exclusion); Montgomery was just depleted and had been feeling ruinously dispassionate about the Blythes stories since ‘Anne of the Island’.

In ‘Reading Rilla’ we see in Maud’s many pages of left-out notes, that an ultimately scrapped journal entry from Rilla indicates that Diana Blythe wrote to their mother of her engagement to a foreign overseas officer. It’s unclear if this officer is the same ‘Austin boy’ that an older Glen woman in ‘the Blythes are Quoted’ privately wonders about (if Di 'really is engaged to him or not'), but this contradictory bit is probably just erroneous gossip from an unreliable narrator.

Anyway. All of this to say... that just because we don’t have a canon marriage for Shirley, it doesn’t disqualify him from having had a wife and kids in Maud’s post-war Four Winds. TBAQ stories were, to reiterate, half-pictures. Pictures that did/could drop a plot bomb in a single sentence. Looping back to Di, canonly we don’t have a marriage for her either... and yet, we do have two engagements that half-register. One engagement was definitive, reported by Di herself. The other a passing curiosity from someone not close enough to the Blythe family to know.

So... clearly, Maud had active intention, a plan, for Di and her own little happy epilogue. The same can be believed for Shirley. (I’m dying for the day the ‘Rainbow Valley’ and ‘Ingleside’ manuscripts get published, I’m convinced there’s more Shirley be found in the notes.) Now, let’s dig in to Anne Blythe herself.

‘The Road to Yesterday’ is a short story about a woman named Susette (a spinster at 28), who is on the brink of an engagement to a wealthy man named Harvey Brooks. She expects the next day to be proposed to. On a whim and feeling nostalgic, she drives to Glen St. Mary, where she lived in her girlhood, for the evening. While there, she runs into a fellow, whom she believes to be Dick, her childhood bully who she hated profoundly. Except now, they’re grown and capable acting chummy over their shared memories. The weather takes a bad turn, and they take shelter and a meal together. Susette spends most of the time, all their ‘do you remembers’, being irritated by Dick’s constant name-dropping of the Blythes. He claims to have been kind of secret friends with Anne Blythe, which is contrary to Susette’s memory that Anne hated Dick. (In the end, it turns out that Susette was right… this isn’t Dick she’s talking to. It’s Jerry Thornton, Dick’s cousin.)

For the official record every Blythe mentioned in ‘the Road to Yesterday’ is as follows: Doctor Blythe, Mrs. Doctor Blythe, Rilla Ford, Jem Blythe [Jr.], Di Meredith [Jerry and Nan’s], and Anne Blythe.

It’s mostly a bunch of school yard talk, but the big takeaway for this purpose is that the Blythe/Meredith cousins all hung out together as school children.

Here’s some direct examples:

*****

The cheap boiled-down version of this exchange, for those who haven’t ‘the Road to Yesterday’ is basically: Susette is having strange feelings during this interaction with ‘Dick’, she’s attracted to him, declaring to herself that she won’t fall in love with him, and is clearly irritated with the near constant Anne Blythe (especially)/Blythe references. Though she herself was very fond of Jem Blythe Jr. herself, during their childhood, ‘Dick’ mentioning Anne Blythe so fondly is increasingly Not Cute to Susette. Meanwhile, ‘Dick’ is enjoying this kind of teasing, and is lowkey successful at getting a rise out of Susette, not matter how determined she is to look unaffected.

But here’s the kicker... when ‘Dick’ finally leaves off mentioning Anne Blythe, guess what topic he moves on to? 🥁

The Royal Canadian Air Force.

And just who do we all know that was in the Royal Canadian Air Force?

Shirley.

Only Shirley.

First, it tracks that ‘Dick,’ soon enlisting (we’re on the brink of WWII timeline-wise), and thinking himself funny, would choose to move on from Anne Blythe to instead a subtler rib… what he, as a once good pal of Anne’s, would know was Anne’s dad’s war faction. It’s also in the realm of possibilities that thinking on Anne so much drew up this correlation. I also ALSO think it’s worth mentioning that the only other time that the Canadian Air Force is mentioned in TBAQ is a very passing drop for Rilla, thinking of her son Gilbert Ford enlisting with the CAF. That’s it. Just those two times.

Additionally important to note is the overall subtext tone in TBAQ, which is Maud’s very greatest collection of double-vision, double-speak and intertextual reference works. There’s a beautiful scholarly essay on this, in relation to TBAQ particularly HERE.

This doesn’t only apply to cultural references in TBAQ. It also adds layers to Maud’s own existing Anne series. It really could be considered a companion piece, with X-Ray vision, e.g. how we got a ton of ‘missing’ insight into Anne and her children’s lives and minds, during the Rainbow Valley era, in Part 1 of TBAQ.

Part 2 of TBAQ (where we find ‘the Road to Yesterday’) asks us to apply what we already know to the new text we’re given.

So, understanding this … if we’re going off what we already know from ‘Rilla of Ingleside’…

What’s the reason we have the Canadian Air Force mentioned in the same story that we learn of the existence of Anne Blythe? The connection?

It’s Shirley. 🥹

A weaker argument that I’ll only mention in mild passing, because it is very weak in terms of convincing evidence, is that the text unambiguously tells is that Anne Blythe has taught ‘Dick’ from Susan’s famous recipes. Susan is another Shirley tie. It’s there to be stated. BUT. I do admit that I think Susan would’ve taught every willing Blythe grandchild with the same zeal, maybe some partiality given to the Little Brown Boy’s kid(s).

BUT, for me?

I’m properly convinced here.

Shirley was a dad, ya’ll.

#long and messy post #wrote this out in twenty minutes and i’m certain it’s utterly infested with grammatical errors and typos so i already beg your forgiveness #IF ANYONE would like to take up a counter-argument i am fully sat #shirley blythe #meta #lucy maud montgomery #the blythes are quoted

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thegrapeandthefig · 3 months

Text

Calendar manipulation in Ancient Greece

This really isn’t a topic I’m thrilled to tackle, but since the Theogamia there has been so much talk about calendar discrepancies that it looks like the right time to bring this up. Don’t expect this to be eloquent, I’m writing this while absolutely knackered.

I’m not going to focus too much on the problem of modern calendar reconstructions, what I’ll be going into here is the historical evidence we have about how awfully inconsistent the ancient Athenian calendar could be, either by nature or by human intervention over time.

The problem of the new moon

In theory, the Athenian calendar and other Greek calendars are lunar and each month begins on the new moon. Sacha Stern, in Calendars in Antiquity, tells us that the writer Geminus (1st c. BCE), states that the Greek month began when the new moon crescent was first sighted but Geminus also states that the new moon can sometimes be sighted on the 1st of the month, but sometimes not until the 3rd. This statement is interesting, because it implies that, should the moon not be visible (clouds), there was a mathematical basis to the calculation of the months that still made the month begin regardless of what the sky looked like.

There comes also the problem of conjunction (aka when the moon in orbit passes between the sun and the earth, making the moon invisible). The traditional ancient assumption is that the day of conjunction is the last day of the month. However, the interval between the day of conjunction and of the new moon is usually around two days; so if the month began when the new moon was first sighted, conjunction should have been typically on the penultimate day of the previous month.

Those difficulties, along the fact that other authors, such as Aratus give conflicting information leads Stern to say this:

Modern scholars have generally accepted Geminus’ statements that the Greek month began at first visibility of the new moon. However, it is clear on Geminus’ own evidence, as well as on the evidence of the other passages just mentioned, that this rule was not strictly followed, and indeed, quite possibly, that it did not constitute a rule. Moreover, we do not know of any procedure that may have been used, and indeed that would have been necessary, for such a rule to be enforced. There is no evidence, for example, in the whole of Graeco-Roman literature of anyone sighting the new moon.

And this leads us to the rather uncomfortable idea that, in practice, a lot of the calendars simply might not have been as well aligned with astronomical moon phases in the way we conceptualize it today.

Francis M. Dunn, in an article titled Tampering with the Calendar, lists passages from ancient Greek sources that seem to corroborate this idea:

Thucydides 2.28 in a passing mention of a solar eclipse […] distinguishes the astronomical "new moon" or conjunction, at which eclipses must occur, from the conventional "new moon" or noumenia, which followed the first visible crescent. The historian, in other words, is aware that there is an astronomical "new moon" or conjunction which is different from the first day of the civic month.

Man-made adjustments

Because calendars impacted the religious, civic and political lives of each city-states, it wasn’t uncommon for city-states to make adjustments to them.

The type of modification we’re most used to is the addition of intercalary days or month that aim to realign the calendar with astronomical reality. But we have evidence that this isn’t the only motivation.

For example:

In the 430's (SEG XXXVI 12), 420's (SEG XL 12) or 410's (SEG XLII 17), in connection with offerings at Eleusis, the demos instructed the archon to add a second Hekatombaion.

In 228/7 a second Hekatombaion was added to the civic calendar.

Between 294 and 288, in connection with a tour by artists of Dionysus during Lenaion, four cities in Euboea made provision for the archons to add months as necessary.

At the end of the fourth century, probably in 307/6, two days were apparently added near the end of Gamelion.

In 271/0 four days were added in the first decade of Elaphebolion.

As we can see, additions and subtractions of one or several days, if not sometimes months, could happen. They were often added either at the beginning of a month or at the end of a month, which makes it easier to imagine that it could be done to readjust the calendar to the moon, but in the cases where it was linked to a festival, it was clearly done to schedule said festival:

”Of the three cases of intercalary months, two are explicitly related to religious festivals (the dedication of first fruits at Eleusis, IG I3 78; and dramatic festivals in Euboea, IG xii.9 207”

“The evidence therefore supports an assumption that most adjustments were part of the normal operation of the civic calendar - ensuring that the calendar was roughly in phase with sun and moon, and ensuring that festivals would take place at a necessary or convenient time.”

An insoluble debate

The problem of ancient Greek calendars as a whole has been a point of contention among scholars for so long, for the simple reason that it makes dating anything difficult. The most notable example is the one around the differences between the Athenian calendar and the Spartan one when it comes to dating something like the battle of Marathon. Plutarch tells us it was on the 6th of Boedromion, but Herodotus tells us it was during the full moon (and therefore later, if the calendars matched the lunar cycle). This is where the issue of inter-city calendar alignment emerges, since each city-state functioned in their own independent ways, they could resort to calendar adjustments at any time they wanted and further misaligning themselves with one another.

But scholars don’t necessarily agree! Some, like Pritchett believed that the calendars were irregular no matter what, while others like Meritt believed they were regular, and that the evidence of irregularity was due to exceptional circumstances. The problem at this point is that it is much harder to prove regularity than the opposite.

So where does it leave us?

The reconstructed calendars we use today as modern worshippers are all based on some form of regularity, but we need to remember that none of them are a direct continuation of the ancient calendars. For the most part, they are based on the metonic cycle and on the other luni-solar calendars in use today by various faiths and cultures around the world. In fact, a lot of the reconstructions of Athenian calendars are using the same mathematical model as the Hebrew calendar. And that, in a nutshell, explains why different reconstruction have different results when it comes to placing specific days and festivals. So it really comes down to personal choice. Choosing a calendar that is more “popular” might be more appealing to you for particular reasons, while others might choose their calendar based on entirely different criteria. I guess the point I’m trying to get to is that, there won’t be a “standard” calendar without some kind of wide decision to stick to a precise model, and as long as there is no religious authority, the calendars will remain ever so slightly different, because they never really were regular in the way that we understand our solar Gregorian calendar to be.

#ancient greek calendars #this is probably full of typos and i'm sorry

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dozing-marshmallow · 6 months

Note

hi! i was wondering if you could write duncan and courtney dating headcannons with a fem reader on the show? (separate) if not that's ok!

Awww no, it is okay! Thank you so much for the request, enjoy!<33

DATING COURTNEY HEADCANONS

From what we know about Courtney, it wasn’t hard to guess that her type was someone contrasting her.

So you were a bit of a cheeky contestant.

Okay, “a bit” was an understatement. Courtney didn’t like to admit it, but she found jubilation in your many ploys on the show.

Because of them though, she’d be on the assumption that you weren’t taking the competition seriously (even though you weren’t actually there to win the money), but you appreciate her reminding you to focus on the game and her helpful tips.

She wouldn’t want to openly say you guys are in a relationship as she’s aware that some people may try to exploit that for their own motives, but makes it clear that you’re off limits.

At night, you often share a bunk with her. Courtney would insist to be the little spoon, all the way through to the morning with her head on your chest.

Your darling Princess!

She loves sharing school stories with you.

“They actually had to rush her to the ER! Can you believe the manners some people have? How much of a litterbug do you have to be to throw your juice box out of a window from the fourth floor? We have bins for a reason!”

“Woah... So your teacher got a concussion from someone doing that?”

“Yeah! It sounds pathetic, but it’s what happened! The school assigned me to be in charge of delivering work from her and delivering notices to her. Makes sense since I was the only qualified student to take up that responsibility while still ace all my classes!”

She’s also fond of discussing hair with you and you play with hers and vice versa.

You like giving her little plaits, ponytails or a bun as high as it can go.

Additionally, she tries persuading you to do karaokes with her.

“It’s way better if we don’t have any instruments! You have nothing to hide behind and we’ll get used to being vulnerable with each other!” she smiled when she said it.

Looks like that couldn’t apply to her,“Oh, man...”

Though she’s a perfectionist, she loves complimenting you a lot.

“If you took that cap off your head and wore a headband instead, you’d look even more adorable! Would you do it for me at least?”

And her occasional feedback.

“What do you mean you haven’t read a single book this entire year!?” she jumps to her feet, horrified.

“Courtney, relax! It’s not a big deal.” you try to assure her with a grin.

She was more shaken at your presumably clueless behaviour to reading,“No, it is a big deal! You can’t just have everything on the outside and nothing in here!” she taps a tense finger to the side of her head,“My girlfriend’s gotta have brains with her beauty! I’m not dating no dummy!”

So she ordered you to sit down on the entrance steps of the Killer Bass cabin while she searched for a novel to give you- girl brought ten.

Out of her choices, she decided to provide you with Mercy Among The Children.

“There!” she hands you the clean copy, no crease or wrinkle, like all brand new,“You will read all of that and when you’re done, you will answer ten summary questions that I came up with to show me how much you learnt. And I will know if your answers are accurate, because I happened to give a presentation on this very book! I did it with ease thanks to my experience as a CIT.” her CIT talks got tedious very quickly, however if it made her happy, you didn’t want to take that away from her.

Therefore you gave something of your own instead,“What if I don’t know how to read?” you knew such question would aggravate her.

She shakes her head in disbelief, perfect autumn hair swaying,“Oh, you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that! You read the fine print of the contract to participate, didn’t you?”

Nope, but let’s pretend you did.

After a few seconds of “reading”, you call her name, to where she sat next to you, watching.

“What’s on your mind now?”

“I uh...” you turn to the back of the book, eyes scanning over the blurb,“Kinda don’t like the voice in my head narrating this. Could you read it to me?”

It seemed this request had halted her brain for a moment as she had stared at you with eyelids split apart again before her loving reprimand frolicked in the air,“Are you crazy? (Y/N), you know I love you, but I can’t do that! You gotta do this on your own, get used to reading in your head! How will you do in an exam when you have to stay quiet? I refuse to hear you getting disqualified over something as little as that!”

She’s so irresistible when she gets worked up,“Then I’ll transfer to your school so I can hear your voice everyday and be sure to pass my next exam.”

Her aim to lecture you had evaporated,“Oh wow...“ her eyebrows sprung back and she couldn’t believe herself for laughing at your not so futile charm,“Okay okay, just this once!” she declares, gently taking back the novel with both hands so it was still open.

As Courtney’s elegant voice embellishes the passage written down on the pages, you make promise to yourself to continue reading it in your own time.

After all, you know she’s just looking out for you.🤎

DATING DUNCAN HEADCANONS

You thought he asked you out as a joke, but he was serious.

Serious in love.

And he loved to be open about it. Not with words, but with his arm around you, calling your name.

He sprayed your hair for a day to see how green would look on you, however you got worried when it didn’t come out.

He would share stories from juvie and usually had an edible treat to give you as you talked. You always thought he had brought a stash of sweets, but looking at his luggage, you realise there was no way any high caliber food could survive in it.

“Mm, thanks Duncan! Where did you get this from?”

He winked,“Don’t worry about it.”

So you didn’t.

Duncan’s surprisingly very good at drawing; you use that talent as a couple’s activity.

He also likes drawing his initials on your arms with a marker, never forgetting to add a skull.

Loves playing with your hands and placing his one on your leg.

Sometimes you wear his shirt or use it as a blanket.

While Duncan wouldn’t really like to hug in public, he’d do gestures like rubbing your head or squishing your face.

He fantasises you someday getting a matching piercing, since you refuse to let him give you one.

“This nose piercing wasn’t painful, like a lot of wet wussies say, but it is a bit uncomfy for a few days. You sure you don’t want me to pierce ya? It’s free of charge~”

The treatment for the infection won’t be,“No thanks! I might decide to pierce my ears!”

“Ear piercing?” his face scrunched like the choice was boring, but his voice held hope,“Where exactly?”

“The lobe would be nice... But I’d also want to get one on the inside! Like industrial!”

“Now you’re talking.” Needless to say, he approved of those ones.

Duncan’s a night owl, so found his favourite part of the day being at night, when everyone else was certainly asleep. You two would go out to a different part of Camp Wawankwa every time to breathe in the wildlife air and have conversation crafted for the dark.

The first nights, you were hesitant. Your chest was tight. It was hard to enjoy the secluded moment with Duncan when your mind was racing with panic.

“Oh Duncan... What if someone sees us? I don’t wanna get in trouble...”

“We won’t. We’re not doing anything wrong.” his calm tone of voice somewhat helped, head swivelling to the closest functioning camera duck tapped on a tree,“The worst Chris’ll do is tell us to go back inside, though knowing him, he probably doesn’t care.”

You trace a finger on his chest,“I wish I could sleep with you in your cabin. But the girls would be suspicious if my bed was empty, and let’s not talk about what the guys would do.”

“Keen, huh?” his unibrow forms a squiggly line as one of the separate eyebrow bones upreared, making you push him gently out on exposed instinct,“I’m pretty sure everyone knows about us by now and the guys would be fine if you crashed in for a night or two.”

“I know...” Duncan’s friends were nice guys. When they wanted to be,“I just don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable.”

His laugh gets clogged by his nose,“You? Make anyone uncomfortable? Babe, trust me, unless your name starts with H and ends in arold, you don’t gotta worry about being alienated. If it means that much to you, we can wait until more people go home for us to share a bed.”

Ohh! You had forgotten about the competition and how it worked! Love makes you forget about the everyday things like the collection of the fires supplementing the sky just being rocks floating in space,“Until more people go home... How...will we make sure it’s not us?”

“Welll. I like you so that’s one less person to vote for you.” he starts,”The rest of the guys like you so you can count them out. Now for the chicks... Anyone you think wants you gone?”

Instantly, someone came to mind,“Heather,” your boyfriend makes gagging noises at the name, vining a smile on your lips,“Ever since I turned down her offer to join her alliance, I must’ve ended up on her watch list. Sure, we can act civil, but I can tell she’s impatiently waiting for my elimination.”

He snorts, brushing his hand on your back,“Seriously? Chicks hold a grudge over anything! Well, that alliance of hers can’t be doing so good when one of her so called members don’t even like her, so it’s not like you’re missing out on anything.”

“True... I get to enjoy the Duncan instead,” you look into his blue vision for that, seeing his irises sprout in ardour. You leave a tangible mark of your lips on his, finding your eyes wondering to a large robust tree not so far away from where Duncan held you,“I wonder... Do you think we could secretly build our own secret treehouse?”

“Up there?” he follows your gaze and whistles,“It is possible... All I’ll need are some tools to steal from Chef and it’ll be there in no time.”

“Duncan!” his romantic selfless take on your suggestion is piled over by his out of place mention of Chef’s inventory, which clicks something to your attention,“Is that...where you’ve been getting the snacks from?”

An unbeaten chuckle rippled out of his ribs, how carefree he was,“Looks like the cat got outta the bag!”💚

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lambiewrites · 3 months

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got this idea from @xxshadowbabexx hehe ✨

Warning: none, fluff tho

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Would they like me? Part 1

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Captain Price: well yes and no. I’m polite and well mannered but, I am very loud and obnoxious. Not in a whiny, bratty way but in a “I have no thoughts and no singular brain cells” way. Book smart not common sense smart. I have called this man “papaw” since I met him and even though he’s like 40, he’s still papaw. I consistently ask to come to his office because I feel like it’s a comforting little place, minus the cigar smoke. Price has asked about my southern/Appalachian accent more than enough times. I can tell him about mountain life. But he needs a break from me, are you kidding?! I talk way too much and ask stupid questions so, it’s 50-50. But at least I do what I’m told and well mannered.

Gaz: it depends. I really like Gaz and he seems so sweet and kind and polite. I feel like we would get along very well, until I don’t stop talking and he doesn’t know how to shut me up. I get this really strange vibe that he’s a marvel fan and so we can talk about that. I feel like he really likes Spider-Man (all of them) and so we could talk about that. Definitely would call him and say, “did you see that new trailer?” We like each other’s instagram pictures and we wish each other a happy birthday on our socials. I’d bake for him. We’d have sad boy hours together so, yeah I really think so but, I know I’m too loud for him.

Soap: bestie you already know the answer to this one and my answer is 100% yes. We both have big families (everyone headcannons him as having a giant family yeah?) lots of nieces and nephews we could bond over. We’d both try to understand each other thru our thick accents. (Him being Scottish and my southern one-) and it would be a delight! We both ramble and I’d listen to all his fun little stories. I’d follow him around like a lost puppy until he told me to give him space. I’d share a Dr.Pepper with him and cook for him. It would be the best time ever. Bestie for life. We gossip together and doodle together.

Ghost: hmmm, see here’s the thing. I have this feeling that’s like “yeah you’d hate me at first” and we’d just assume we hated each other at first until we have sad boys hours and just sit in absolute painstaking silence for hours. He’d hate me, I know he would because I’d get all “counselor” on him. (Hey I paid lots of money for that degree okay?!) and he wouldn’t be able to get rid of me but, I’d respect his boundaries (obviously) and give him his space (obviously) but he’d find little stupid notes with my handwriting on it being like, “you’re my hero.”, “take it easy”, “have a good day.”, “love you.” (Platonically), “you’re worthy” blah blah blah. He’d hate it so much. He’d throw them away at first but, later on, he’s kinda like “I hate this kid but why is she the way that she is? How can she see something or someone like me and actually like me?!” It gets the gears turning. Would I be a therapist? I would.

Laswell: I follow her around like she’s my own mother. She hates me for it but, it’s good to have another set of eyes. (Mine don’t work) we’re chill. That’s all we do is just chill and relax. It’s hard having so much testosterone around 24/7. We’re out and about. Having mommy-daughter day. Am I crying? I am, how’d you know? We talk about married life. She tells me about her wife, I tell her about my husband. We have dinner at each others house. We show each other our pet pictures.

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A/n: I am very much an extrovert and very loud and bubbly. I am an ENFP and I do have my counseling degree so, combine that into some sort of personality as you will and make your own assumptions ❤️ this was all for fun and feel free to comment or something that would be fun and great! Please be nice though 😭❤️.

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#call of duty #cod #call of duty nonsense #would they like me?#captain john price #Captain price #gaz #kyle gaz garrick #soap #john soap mactavish #ghost #simon ghost riley #kate laswell #Laswell #friends #platonic #enemies to friends #grumpy x sunshine

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spasmsofthought · 10 months

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if love was a year, we were june (j.s. x reader) [1.5]

can be considered part 1.5 or a companion piece to you fell hard, I thought good riddance. but if you want to read it as a stand alone, i think you’ll be able to. maybe an official part two coming?!?! idk, i’m gonna need a fantastic song and all my imagination if it’s gonna happen. we’ll see. all my love xo

warnings: not really edited. please excuse any mistakes, i wrote this on the fly

soundtrack: June by Chris Lanzon and Eluera

Previous / Next

+++

Dear Jake,

Hangman - -

Jake:

It’s 10:48 pm and I’m sitting on the couch waiting for you to come home from the bar. You said you’d be here by 8.

I’m not sure how much more I can take.

It’s been a week since I’ve seen you. You avoid me at work. You answer every fourth text with one or two words.

Did I miss all the signs?

I know that you’re not the biggest fan of my driving. You think I get distracted too easily (I can’t help it when you’re sitting next to me, but I’m trying, I promise), that I play the music too loud, and I know you say that I indicate that I’m turning too early, but I know that I’m a good driver. I slow down at yellow lights and I don’t really drive much over the speed limit. I always make sure you buckle your seatbelt before I press my foot on the gas.

Now you don’t even want to be in the same apartment as me, let alone be in the same car as I drive it.

I’ve heard so many people compare you to the sun, but you’ve always been like the ocean to me. Maybe not a burning star in the sky, but you are an intense force of nature all the same.

Maybe I got you at just the right time, early in the morning during high tide. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to reach you in the beginning.

It made me feel like the moon.

Like maybe I was gravity, and I could pull you back. But I can feel you rolling away, receding from me, and I can’t pull you back even though I’ve tried.

I’ve tried.

I’m realizing that I made the wrong assumption.

I’m not your moon. I’m just the shore.

Low tide is coming, fastly approaching I think.

Probably already here and I just haven’t noticed.

I thought we would make it longer than we did.

I’ve been to the beach many times. I’ve always enjoyed the way the water rolls over my toes before I dig my feet into the sand, knowing the waves would come again to wash it away. Push and pull, push and pull.

You’re pulling away, and there’s empty space where you once were, and I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to last. I can’t keep you here because I think, deep down, I can tell you’re ready to go. Maybe you were always ready.

I know I can’t go with you any longer. I think I’ll end up drowning if I do.

I’m weary if I’m being honest Jake. All I’ve been thinking about is where the hell you even are. It’s been its own kind of torture. Being with you has taken a lot out of me.

I was so immersed, and your eyes were deep water, they pulled me in; you were beautiful. You took my breath away.

But I think I should have gone up for air sooner.

There are so many mixed metaphors in this letter, but I don’t think it matters much. I’m honestly not even sure if you’ll read this whole thing. You might throw it away without even glancing at the ink on this paper. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what happened.

I don’t think you’re coming back tonight. At least not until you know I’m gone. It’s a strange sort of kindness, I guess, that you’re letting me go without saying it to my face.

But it still hurts, Jake. Your silence doesn’t make this easier for me, just for you.

I realize that you’re not going to fight for me, for any of it.

I know that I should hate you.

I should hate you.

I really want to, but I can’t.

When I wipe the tears away and close my eyes, I see what could’ve been if you weren’t the ocean or if I had been your moon. If you had told me we were taking a dead-end street instead of driving down it with me smiling in the passenger seat. I think we might have been happy if you were different and if I had been maybe a little wiser.

I should hate you, but I don’t.

I love you.

I hope I’ll change my mind.

I’m going to leave this taped to the door when I walk out of your apartment in a few minutes. Don’t worry - my key is on the table. I returned all the shirts of yours that I borrowed. I grabbed my toothpaste out of the bathroom drawer.

I’m going to lock the door and try to leave this all behind me.

God knows that I was in your rearview mirror long ago.

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noajakah236482 · 28 days

Text

The Blue Umbrella

Her POV [Pt.2]

Warnings\ Not proofread, fem!reader, okay so maybe not that slow paced but theres a huge time skip from previous part to this part… maybe two years? She’s like college first year in this oh and I don’t know how colleges work I did a lot of research (watching dramas lol) so I hope this is a good part

♡pt1>>

The last few years of my life were quite uneventful. Just me studying to get into my dream university! Today is my first day and I’m so excited! Mel is helping me move into my dorm, my parents were… too busy to care.

“That’s all Mel! O-oh don’t drop it, NO!” My things scattered on the floor as she accidentally dropped the box. “Ooops” she muttered. I put the box I was carrying down on my bunk before rushing to help her gather my clothes from the floor.

“Oh?”

“What?” I turned to her. Then, I saw what was in her hand. Oops. “Hey! Give that here!!”

“No. Why do you still have this?” She asked pointing to my blue umbrella.

“Because I haven’t met the owner again after that day! Now give that here!”

“You could’ve left this at home”

“Well, I didn’t?”

“AAAAA MY SISTER STILL LIKES HIM!!”

“STOP MAKING ASSUMPTIONS.” I could feel my face starting to get warm, noo!! I snatched the umbrella from her hand before setting it aside on my table and glaring at her. She just grinned at me. Before I could say something, I heard some voices from outside coming this way. What if it were my roommates? The other three bunks were already decorated and set up.

As the voices grew closer, I couldn’t help but feel nervous, I looked over at Mel who gave me an assuring smile and thumbs up. “Sounds like your roommates are here sis!”

Sure enough, a second later, three girls walked in animatedly chatting with one another. They stopped in their tracks when they saw me. I gulped. Why are they staring?

“Oh hi! You must be our fourth roommate, nice to meet you. You’re so pretty. What’s your name? I’m Harper, this is Olivia my twin sister.” She pointed to the other brunette. “And that’s Cherry.” She said pointing to the third girl. She had blonde hair with blue streaks.

“My real name is Charlotte,” she laughed “but she’s been calling me that since the day we met.” Charlotte piped in.

“Uh my sister is a bit too extroverted so just tell us if you feel too awkward by that lol” Olivia said.

“Well, I’ll get going now, bye y/n, bye girls have fun” Mel said as she quickly walked away and left me alone. All alone. With no advice on how to talk. And make friends. Yay.

“H-hi. I’m y/n. That was my older sister Mel, she was helping me move in…”

“Hi y/n! That’s such a pretty name. Pretty name for a pretty girl! Do you mind if I call you n/n?” (nickname)

“Lol that’s creative, Harper. Wait… you’re Harper right?” I asked. This is so embarrassing…how did I already forget their names.’ I groaned internally. “She’s Harper, I’m Olivia. Olivia is the calmer one, Harper is the hyperactive one. Exactly like Leo, he’s a bit more eccentric though.” Olivia told

“Who’s Leo?” I asked

“Our brother, you’ll know soon enough. He’s too annoying. “ Harper told.

The initial awkwardness started to fade away after we started talking more. It was almost nightfall and the girls had helped me put the rest of my stuff scattered around. Thankfully it wasn’t too much to be a burden.

Suddenly, Cherry’s eyes fell on the blue umbrella sitting on my table, her curiosity piqued. “Ooo, pretty umbrella! Where’d you get it?”

“Uhm long story”

“Hey! Is that…?” Livi(Olivia) looked at Harper with a confused expression.

“Is that what?” I asked.

“Nothing… our brother had a similar umbrella like that lol. So where’d you get it?” Harper asked

“It’s…quite a long story.” I chuckled awkwardly.

“Oh don’t worry, we love a good story!” Livi chirped.

“Maybe some other day, kinda sleepy right now” I yawned.

“Awww” Harper got disappointed.

“Sorr-“

“It’s okay n/n. Harper she got here today. It must’ve been a hectic day for her, her parents also couldn’t come.” Livi scolded her. Lol

“Oh yeah… why didn’t they?” Cherry asked.

“Later. Good night girls.”

“Night n/n”

I crawled into my bunk and turned of the lamp. Livi was still reading her book but the other two went to sleep too. I couldn’t help but think of the twins’ reaction to my umbrella. There’s no way that… Like that’s absolutely impossible… I mean it isn’t but, this is such a coincidence if it is true! Is the umbrella really their brother’s? And… my parents… Should I tell them? Or will they think I come from a too messed up family, and judge me, and not want to be friends anymore? No, I don’t wanna mess this up… A single tear made it’s way down my face. Followed by a few more… I didn’t bother to wipe them.

My eyes started to close on their own. With a weary sigh, I closed my eyes. Everything will be alright. At least I hope so…

That was my last thought before I felt the gentle tug of sleep. I curled up into a ball and surrendered myself to the comforting embrace of slumber. I can worry about this later. Today was exhausting. I let go of all my anxiety and allowed myself to drift into dreamland.

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A/n>>> I feel like this part was kind of short and boring so here’s a little bonus part, livi’s pov after y/n falls asleep. I hope you liked this part though. Sorry for the long wait<3

The Blue Umbrella

Olivia POV [Pt.1]

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I sat on my desk, engrossed in the new book I was reading. Today was a day of laughter and chatter as we got to know about y/n. She completed our friend group, our little family. With a contended sigh, I closed my book and got ready to go to sleep. But the sight I saw when I woke up shattered me.

I had noticed the bit of sadness that lingered behind her bright smile, especially after her parents had been mentioned. Maybe she missed them, or maybe there was more to it? She didn’t really seem eager about bringing them up.

But even after that, seeing her tear-stained face, made my heart clench. Does she cry to sleep every night? I truly hope not.

A surge of concern washed over me, mingling with a fierce determination to uncover the source of y/n’s pain. She may have only just arrived but she was already part of our little family, I couldn’t bear to see her suffer alone, in silence. With a silent vow, I resolved to reach out to y/n. I want her to know that she doesn’t need to face the darkness of the world all alone. I want her to know that we’re here for her, always will be. We’re here to support her and comfort her when she feels gloomy, when her skies are grey and cloudy. We’re here for her. No matter what.

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main taglist>>> @whoslug @daydreamingmia @peapea-0405 @primordial-space-spaghetti @yeeteddemigod @incorrectenhypen @sammy0is0autistic

#pjo #percy jackson #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #hoo #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #fanfiction #writblr #writers on tumblr #riordanverse

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