#welp!

Winterhawk afternoon nap💜

they were reading, take a wild guess at who has lotr and who has a green arrow comic😎

Sketch and lineart below :P

Mack can already feel himself start to want again, craving too much after all the effort he expended these past few weeks on holding himself back. He hungers to take this inch of Will's trust and bravery and pull until it becomes a foot, a yard, a mile.

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the end of a journey !! turns out, there is joy to be found - who knew?

This is starting to feed a concern (maybe I’m delulu and wrong - hopefully), that having the season be one day is consciously or unconsciously, a way to avoid having to show detailed progression of Sydney stepping into the role of ‘The Bear’. Was ‘The Bear’ title just nice words in Goodbye to give Sydney’s character more prominence, after critics criticized the 3rd season for not featuring enough of Sydney?

If so it would also be a clever way to avoid having to have any more focus on Sydney’s life outside the restaurant, or address Sydcarmy or mention of it- ‘simply no time to develop all this, the restaurant’s flooding and they need to do a service!’ Umm

As have seen elsewhere handing off The Bear to Sydney when it’s in debt and about to close is giving peak ‘glass cliff’ phenomenon of women and black women in particular, the responsibility of a top position/job in an organization that’s about to collapse/ is struggling- it’s a thing.

I just… unless they have an upside that it stays open or Sydney gets some kind of payoff, what’s the message of Sydney’s story of Sheridan Road failing then this? Endless grind and struggle for her but ‘hey she’s a Bear!’ 😖

Whilst Carmy gets the peace out (eventually) arc? Happy for him but still 😬

That and the short season runtime, is giving ‘let’s finish this up with minimal space to tie up endless plotlines so I can move onto my next project’ 🫠

This morning James only allowed himself a minute to ogle his wife through the window, walking down the driveway in her billowing formal robes and tie to apparate to work.

This morning he’d made her french toast, because that was her favorite, and today was a very important day.

Beside him, his son banged his pudgy fist against the glass pane, and turned to him, “Gubabb ba”, Harry said. James nodded at his words of wisdom, “You’re right Haz, we’d better get going.”

In an hour, James had Harry strapped to his chest in a baby carrier—ingenious muggle invention by the way—and was idling through sunny Diagon Alley. He only a few things to pick up right now.

They stopped by a flower booth. He held up two bouquets of lilies in front of him, “Which one?” The elderly woman running the place chuckled fondly in their direction.

“Babbag gugg”, Harry pawed at the white ones. James set a few sickles in the woman’s hand, “Good choice, mate”, he pecked the top of Harry’s messy pitch black head.

He picked up a case of Lily’s favorite wine (peach sangria), and that book on theoretical Runes analysis from Flourish and Blotts she’d been raving about.

Then as he sat on a bench, letting Harry naw on a spinach and strawberry teething cracker for a bit, while he finished the sandwich he’d brought for lunch, James felt a voice call out from the mirror in his pocket.

“Jaaaaaaames. Jaaamesss— Oh, finally! Where are you? Moony, Marlene, Dorcas and I are gonna go to your house now,” Sirius said, then turning to the voices clamoring behind him, “Yeah, yeah I’m coming. We’re gonna decorate a bit when we get there, kay’ Prongs?”.

“Alright, we’re gonna go home now,” James showed the mirror to his chest, “Say Hi!”.

Sirius gasped, “Hazza!”. Harry slapped a tiny finger onto the mirror, “Pab!”, He shrieked. “Good job!”, James grinned and pocketed the small rectangle to muffle the wave of theatrics Padfoot was undoubtedly erupting into at Harry’s newfound ability to barely say his name.

When they made it home, Sirius and Dorcas were stringing up a banner on the wall behind the dining table. Marlene was standing on the sofa with her hands stretched out like a photographer shouting, “Little to the left!” or “higher!” periodically.

James spotted Alice and Frank unfolding chairs in the patio, even Benjy stacking cups in the kitchen with Emmeline. The counter was stacked with gift bags and boxes.

And poor Remus stood in the middle of everything, arms hanging with tinsel and various other decorations for people to pluck off him and use. He looked rather like a christmas tree.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and the commotion came to a panicked standstill. “Just us!”, James sighed in relief as he went to greet his parents and Lily’s dad.

He hurried upstairs to put on a clean shirt and bring Harry down in his little bow tie. “Ohhh Baby!”, Euphemia scooped him into her arms, “Don’t you look dashing!”.

By now everything was mostly set up, except— the front door knob jiggled, and the rush of anticipation returned.

Everyone held their breath as footsteps approached the kitchen. “Sorry we’re late! It took longer than I expected,” Peter held up a beautiful cake in a glass stand, Mary trailing behind him with a giant wrapped present

“Fuck, almost gave me a heart attack. Thanks again for making this Wormy”, James clapped his shoulder.

She’s late. James thought anxiously, as more and more people rolled in through the door and not Lily. What if something happened? Today of all days—

“So who’s all this for, then? Should I have brought something?”, James whirled around.

There she was, somehow dressed in a gauzy green dress, beaming like a floodlight. Gorgeous.

The room exploded with cries of “Happy Birthday!”, and “You wench!” though the latter was just Mary and Marlene.

James practically catapulted himself at her, “You took so bloody long, what gives?”, he said into her hair.

“Dramatic effect?”, Lily shrugged, “It’s my birthday, not Christmas, love,” she squeezed his arm affectionately, before she beelined to where Harry sat kicking his legs in his highchair and brought him over.

James watched as she smacked a kiss to his chubby face, and Harry giggled wildly in turn. His heart felt fit to swell out of his chest, “Today, is second to Christmas, and New years, and Halloween and every holiday ever, obviously”.

oh!….. do i talk about that a lot?… learning things about myself

i really do love to give misa (and my general rpf and non-rpf characters) issues with saying no to implicit things. misa knows it’s weird for authority figures, or random people, or anyone, to ask stuff of him that he’s not willing to give, sexual or otherwise, but the problem is no one does that explicitly. misa would much rather suffer through some uncomfortable interaction than interrupt with the wrong view of what’s going on— ex. he’d rather have a wandering hand go far up his thigh than point it out and have the guy go, what are you talking about, i’m not making a move on you?