#absolutely taking a poetry class and he would NOT be good

[comradekatara]

In your modern au who in the gang goes to college/grad school and what subjects do they study? would they end up at schools close to home or go far away? How do there relationships change after highschool and with people moving away?

okay wow that’s a great question but also. a lot.

aang is a year below katara so his top choice school is just. the school katara goes to. it’s small and affordable and he studies philosophy and religion (but also takes any sort of fun elective offered to him) and joins a lot of clubs and makes a lot of friends and generally just has a nice time. he and katara overlap for three years but after she graduates they still live together, so he basically sees her every day anyway. it’s nice :)

katara genuinely considers not going to college but then she gets a sports scholarship she’d be a fool to reject so she’s like “fine, i’ll go, but i’m gonna phone it in the entire time.” she assumes that college will basically just be like high school, yet another prison where she will be forced to do math against her will. but she actually finds that she kind of enjoys some of her classes, and she can devote way more time to sports, and azula isn’t there (a weight has been lifted off her shoulders truly), and she actually meets a whole group of people who don’t find her intimidating and abrasive, but instead share her interests and actually organize with her. also, the fact that sokka isn’t there means that she doesn’t constantly have to compare herself to an impossible standard, and she finds that she actually enjoys learning when she gets to go at her own pace. and in fact…. she’s actually a great writer???? and really enjoys theory and philosophy and criticism and history and sociology and literature????? and she might actually be really fucking smart????? she graduates with honors. but there’s absolutely no way she’s pursuing grad school lmao. everyone knows that shit is a scam.

sokka goes to princeton for undergrad because, and i quote, “it’s nearby.” full ride, obviously. he double majors in physics and engineering, and also accidentally fulfills an art history minor without even noticing. everyone assumes that he’ll get a phd (at least one), but katara keeps insisting that grad school is a scam and so is the ivy league. and it’s not even that sokka necessarily disagrees with her, he just thinks that those are bold words coming from the girl who fell for a pyramid scheme. twice.

zuko goes to a small liberal arts college for undergrad and spends years attempting to justify his choice of going to a smaller, slightly less prestigious school by majoring in something dignified and respectable, like econ or business or engineering. none of which he is any good at. but eventually, after enough time spent beyond ozai’s purview, zuko just goes “fuck it” and double majors in theater and classics. his focus is on ancient greek drama. he then does a poetry mfa wherein he attempts to write on earth we’re briefly gorgeous without just rewriting on earth we’re briefly gorgeous (many such cases). he complains about his program constantly and how fake and pretentious it all is, but anyone who knows him can tell that it’s clearly the most fun he’s ever had.

suki doesn’t go to college. she figures that there’s no point in blowing money she doesn’t have and wasting precious valuable years of her time getting a fancy little bachelor’s degree she’ll never use for a job that doesn’t actually require one. and she doesn’t have any adult figures in her life to convince her that college is necessary (although sokka does spend a full week going “but are you sure…?” before suki realizes that she can just shut him up forever by claiming she can’t afford it). she continues to teach at the dojo, but because she basically already lives in her truck, she’s always driving over to princeton to crash in sokka’s dorm. she spends a lot of time just hanging out in the library while he does work, and finds that she doesn’t even need to go to classes to learn new things by herself. it’s funny how a formal education can make learning seem so much less interesting than it actually is. if she had actually gone to college, she probably would’ve spent the entire time blowing off classes and doing as little work as possible, but since she has no incentive to learn, she actually does. by the time sokka has graduated, suki is basically qualified to practice medicine, could tell you the entire history of the inca empire, and is basically an expert in mycology. and it didn’t cost a cent.

toph considers suki an inspiration, and by the time she graduates, she is already so estranged from her parents that she also has the agency to just blow off that whole thing. she moves in with sokka and mai and just follows them around. she sits in on their lectures whenever she feels like it (they claim she is mai’s little sister who is visiting her), and otherwise just kind of lounges about. occasionally sokka will be like “you know you could’ve just… gone to this school, right??? you’re literally a child prodigy and your parents are crazy rich.” to which toph just shrugs like “yeah……but nah.”

mai goes to princeton with sokka. it wasn’t even her top choice school, but once she realized that it’s where sokka was going, she couldn’t think of anywhere else that she would rather be. they’re roommates since freshman year and are basically inseparable. everyone assumes they’re dating, but sokka’s like “nah she’s gay, she’s just really clingy :)” which mai hates because he’s totally ruining her street cred. she’s a cs major, but she basically accumulates the credits for a math minor, a physics minor, and an english minor because all the cs classes are so easy for her (she first taught herself how to code when she was like six). sokka somehow convinces her to join his physics program for grad school, but after a year she drops out because she finds it so miserable. they continue living together, of course, while mai gets really into making esoteric indie games. zuko doesn’t really understands how video games work, but she still bounces her ideas off him because he’s the most ruthless critic she knows.

ty lee goes to college because it’s the sort of thing a girl from a decently respectable family does, but she’s pretty envious of suki’s lifestyle and wishes she could just blow off the entire thing. she goes to a decent school, one that appears acceptable on resumes but not so elite that it will raise any employer’s standards too high; she enjoys being underestimated. being in an entirely new environment gives her the opportunity to test out new personas free of consequence, and eventually she realizes that she’s kind of wasting her talents by pretending to be dumber than she is, so she actually applies herself and does really well. but then she gets bored of applying herself because now everyone expects too much of her and she misses when a B was considered a good grade. she’s technically a dance major because it’s the only thing she does consistently across three years (she graduates early), but she goes through different phases where she’s really into various fields, including but not limited to: abnormal psych, quantum physics, philosophical ethics, north african literature, microbiology, and women’s rugby. she keeps in touch with azula, mai, and suki, but she also just goes through phases of avoiding contact with all her former friends entirely. it’s fun to be aloof.

and last but certainly not least, azula goes to harvard for undergrad, and then harvard law. in fact, there is no other school azula could ever go to. even if she had lived on the other side of the globe, and not new jersey (or as she likes to call it, “manhattan”), azula would still go to harvard. she truly believes that it is the only school on earth capable of withstanding her towering intellect. anyone who found her insufferable in high school is in for a rude surprise once they realize that within a semester, harvard has somehow made her ten times worse. she’s technically pre-law, but she also studies pre-med and engineering, just in case. which is far too much for any one human to handle, and she ends up suffering a nervous breakdown during junior year where she eats nothing but cheetos for a week straight and tries to cut her own bangs with a pair of kiddie scissors. zuko and sokka go to cambridge to stage an intervention (mai and ty lee were too busy washing their hair that weekend) and help her out. you can tell it’s bad because she actually agrees to go to therapy. eventually she gets through it and decides to take a gap year before law school. she spends her gap year as a paralegal at a highly prestigious firm, and within the first couple years of graduating law school, she makes junior partner there. and they never speak of the cheetos and uneven bangs incident ever again.

in terms of who keeps in touch with whom, obviously mai, sokka, suki, and toph still hang out all the time after high school. mai and sokka are roommates for their entire twenties basically, and toph and suki pretty much also live with them. mai and sokka move to new york after princeton. and after zuko graduates, he also moves in with them. aang and katara sort of resist the idea of living in a big city, and instead decide to travel the world after aang graduates. but then when they go to visit sokka & co. katara realizes that it’s always secretly been her lifelong dream to work at a really cute little overpriced coffeeshop in brooklyn, and so she and aang get an apartment in like. red hook or something. ty lee actually moves to california, so they all assume they won’t see her often, but she flies back every time one of her sisters has a birthday, so they actually run into her pretty frequently. eventually she moves back to the east coast, and pretty soon after that she and mai uhaul together. none of them really hear from azula except for mai and ty lee, who are in a semi-active groupchat with her. but she and zuko reconnect after ozai’s funeral, and she gradually befriends the rest of the gaang, even if she never quite gets along with katara. so yeah, there are a few years where most of them don’t really talk to one another, but eventually they do manage to reconnect and stay in each other’s lives. they do all make other friends though. god could you imagine.

#averyho #asks #the gaang and #modern au #this was a fun one #the inherent comedy of being from new jersey. etc. etc.

[pipi-un-kaki-in-pipi-land]

Hashiras anddd their fav things?? 👀

hashira povs: their favourite things

note: i like how you put this in my rqs right before my exams 💀

w/c: 1k>

Kyojuro

fav food: tempura bento 100%. youd definitely make his day if you manage to cook up a hefty meal like this for him

fav hobby: probably watching television. like sumo wrestling - or anything as long as youre there to accompany him ^^

fav season: contrary to his fiery nature, i feel like he'll absolutely love winter because everything about it is just so chilly and snug and he'd love to embrace/cuddle you with his warmth if you get cold

fav green flag in a person: charismatic nature - i think he'd adore someone with similar traits to him, and also someone keen to impress; im sure he'd love to see someone playin it cool with an energetic personality

fav animal: probably a ferocious animal like a lion or a cheetah, because they represent bravery and strength just like himself

Tengen

fav food: something high-class, fancy, flashy and expensive af like sashimi 

fav hobby: spending time with you, ofc. but he does has a thing for hot springs, im sure he loves to go there and take a dip with you

fav season: given his extravagant personality, it has to be spring cause it aligns with his character so much, and he loves to see the newly bloomed cherry blossoms because its scent reminds him of you 

fav green flag in a person: it would probably be their confidence n those who embrace their insecurities and aren't afraid to show their uniqueness to others ^^ he would definitely adore a person with a positive self image and an exuberant personality just like him 

fav animal: peacock cause it resembles him sososososo much - like its flamboyance and majesticness and theyre both really flashy LOL

Mitsuri 

fav food: sakura mochi; it suits her persona so well. you noticed when she eats this, her smile would never disappear because it just tastes so good (even better if you made it) 

fav hobby: in the trivia, she raises bees for honey - so she definitely has a thing for animals and something that suits her aesthetic nature, or maybe like japanese card games which suit her really well

fav green flag in a person: affection and quality time - she loves it when youre always there no matter what she does, and eating together is such a turn on for her. she loves when youre around and constantly making her blush with those affectionate words of yours

fav animal: obv cats LMAO her breathing styles are literally named after it, and it just suits her graceful nature (im pretty sure she has a pet cat already)

Sanemi

fav food: ohagi (sweet rice balls) for sure, even giyu stated it in the manga LOL. i think his usual rough attitude will melt when he takes a bite out of that chunky rice ball

fav hobby: probably does some crazy shit like beetle fighting or just dragging someone into dueling with him - but nothing compares when he does things with you, it just makes him feel 10x better 

fav green flag in a person: it has to be their openness, honesty and their resilience. you obv have to be someone tuff like him (not necessarily in physical appearance) to gain his respect and oh my days words cant express when youre flirtatious with him - that's literally his biggest weakness hes gonna curl up into a ball and hide in the corner of a room out of embarrassment

fav animal: in the manga he does have a beetle, but i think his comfort animal would be dogs because his whole personality just swaps when he interacts with one - and he loves feeding them. its practically the only time you see him smile wholeheartedly

Iguro

fav food: nah bro this guy probably doesn't have a preference for food - he'll just eat whatever you eat, as long as it makes you happy

fav hobby: hear me out bro hes probably interested in some uncommon things like poetry or sculpting but hes such a quiet and reserved man its impossible to figure out what he likes or doesn't like - but whatever it is, he'll do anything if it meant being by your side

fav green flag in a person: i lowk feel bad for this guy; i think he dislikes women because his upbringing in the past but it was love at first sight when he saw you - he likes when people are commited and loyal, and someone who he can open about to without being scared of getting judged by them. but nevertheless, your wholesome personality just makes up for everything that he seeks in a person

fav animal: its pretty obvious (snakes)

Shinobu

fav food: due to her petite appearance, i feel like her appetite would be petite and to just a tiny adequate amount, don't judge me for this but i think she loves fruits (or mochi like mitsuri) 

fav hobby: this woman is the literal embodiment of "don't judge a book by its cover" i feel like she has a thing for horror stories or she'll just whip out some scary shit to scare you but generally she just spends most of her time experimenting in things but she'll definitely go out of her way to entertain you 

fav green flag in a person: someone who exhibits kindness & compassion - she'll definitely value someone empathetic and those who show genuine care towards others; it makes her happy when she sees good people in the world

fav animal: its either butterflies or her pet goldfish, but generally i think she'll treat any animal the same because shes such a sweetheart

Muichiro

fav food: i feel like this guy doesn't care about what he eats (maybe that's why he doesn't get along w tengen) but if i had to pick i feel like it would be radish sided with some sauce, just something plain yk

fav hobby: other than spending time with you, i think he'd do some papercraft or some peaceful activities when youre not around (he prefers being alone ig). by the time you come home there'll be like 10000 paper cranes folded by your bedside

fav green flag in a person: he really doesn't believe in green flagor red flags, just someone that can keep up with his forgetfulness and someone who isn't weak-minded and likes doing challenges with him

fav animal: i mean he cant really own one or his crow would get jealous, so i guess its his crow LMAO

Giyu 

fav food: either cold soba or salmon daikon (simmered salmon with radish). you notice when he eats these foods, a rare smile emerges on his face and it makes you feel happy as well 

fav hobby: i feel like he would kill time by doing some stupidly weird riddles and solving puzzles LOL cause hes quite a composed person so i dont think he would be into outdoor activities. he just enjoys being by your side

fav green flag in a person: due to his stoic nature he cant express much, but he deeply appreciates a person with a good sense of righteousness and integrity. he has immense respect for someone who'd stand up for something wrong no matter how difficult the situation may be 

fav animal: i don't think he has the time to handle an animal, but it would be like a panther or a wolf cuz of their stoic demeanor before attacking but i rlly don't know

#kny x reader #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #kyojuro x reader #mitsuri x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #tengen x reader #giyu x reader #shinobu x reader #pipi un kaki in pipi caca land #kny headcanons

[theshelbyclan]

Brains

Summary: After finally being accepted into the family for who she is, bookworm Shelby sister faces new challenges after finishing school and they invite her again to be a part of Shelby Company Limited (part 2)

(gif by @thomasshelbyltd​)  A/N:I remember writing this story, Books, and being so scared to post it, because usually the Shelby sis stories are of her being such a badass and I wanted to try something different. And strangely enough, this became one of my most popular stories. A few of you have requested a part 2, so I’m just going to tag those here: @smcc212​ @flysafepapi​ @clairecrive​ @playmydrum​   I’ve been debating how to continue this, but I wanted to keep the focus on John, as well as involving the other brothers. But mainly, I wanted to do justice to the reader character. Let me know what you think of this! Words: 3392 *** Once again, you were sitting at the Shelby kitchen table, doing your homework. Nose buried deep in a few books and hunched over, slowly destroying your back, you were working hard on an essay. This one you were actually extremely proud of: you were comparing six different poems on the war and writing about the emotional effects it had had on the soldiers, even if they did survive the war. Being a Shelby, you knew a lot about it. But, being Y/N, you knew a lot about poetry. So, you were certain this essay was going to be a good one.

“Why do you need five books?” Finn asked. Your twin was sitting next to you, as he often did, and simply watched you work. His question wasn’t a critique or anything like that; he was genuinely curious. Finn Shelby couldn’t read, but he was always intrigued by the fact that you could. “I’m comparing these poems, see?” you showed him, “from three different authors.” “What’s an ‘author’?” “It’s a fancy word for ‘writer’,” you shrugged. He nodded slowly. Aunt Polly entered the kitchen, back from getting the shopping, and with a slight look of disapproval, she gazed at her table, which had absolutely no room left for her groceries. You followed her eyes and immediately apologized. Then you proceeded to collect your books and put them all on the floor. “Thank you,” Aunt Polly said pointedly, but Finn protested with, “How is she supposed to finish her essay now?”

“What’s it to you?” his aunt shot back. “It’s important,” he called out, “She’s doing this whole thing about injured soldiers, like, in the head. And she has five, five, books she’s using, because there’s different auto’s she’s comparing, right?” “Authors,” you whispered, lovingly.

Things had changed ever since that day you came home crying after being bullied and threatened by the boys at your school. At school things were unfortunately still the same, even though those boys never dared touching you again, but you still found yourself alone most of the time and people whispered hurtful things behind your back. At times, it got to you, but now your siblings treated you very differently. John had become very much aware of how his words and jokes affected you, and he’d bettered his ways, as well as warning the others. Now they all tried to take an interest in your studies, even if they didn’t understand it. Finn, your darling twin, tried the hardest, but he’d always been there for you. “Authors,” Finn repeated, and continued, “It’s really important that she finishes this on time, because she’s top of her class, Aunt Pol, didn’t she tell you? And it’s her last year at school, so she wants to make the most of it, isn’t that right, Y/N?” You nodded solemnly. His praise made you feel warm inside, but he was right: you were fourteen now and this would be your last year at school. The lessons weren’t much of a challenge anyway and you often asked for extra work simply to fight the boredom, but still you enjoyed learning immensely. And you had no idea what you would do with yourself once your time at school would be up.

Your Aunt Polly seemed to notice the frown on your face and decided to soften a little. She often didn’t know what to do with you, it was like you and her were complete opposites at times, but she still cared deeply. So, she said, “Go and ask Thomas, Y/N, he’ll let you work in his office.”

With a sigh, you picked up your things from the floor again. Immediately, Finn sprang to your aid and took a few books in his arms. But when Polly was busy again, you whispered, “No, take them upstairs. I’ll work there. I don’t want to bother Tommy now.”

And so you continued your essay, sat on the floor with books all around you, in the cold bedroom you shared with Finn. *** After a few more hours, you had finally finished writing up your final version, the one you were going to hand in. Stretching, you stood up and you shivered. It really was cold in the small room, practically dark now too, and your limbs were protesting against their maltreatment. “Y/N?” John put his head around the door, “Finn told me you were working on an essay. Something about poetry or books, or something. Did you finish it?” He really was trying these days. You held up the paper in a proud manner. But John said, “Fucking hell, girl, have you been sitting here all afternoon? It’s bloody freezing in here!” “I suppose it is a little cold,” you agreed, as you pulled your jumper, well actually Arthur’s old jumper, closer around you. One of your hands touched your arm and you felt like a clump of ice burned you for a second. John frowned and walked into the room. Then he crouched down next to the fireplace and quickly got to lighting the fire. You tried to protest with, “There’s really no need, john…” But he didn’t listen. Instead he said, “Remember that castle I promised you, the one with the library and the staircases? I’ll make sure that library has a fireplace, where a fire is always burning.” “Thank you, John,” you smiled. “What are you sitting on the floor for?” You shrugged, “Polly needed the kitchen table and I needed to finish my essay.”

“On the floor?” he asked incredulously, “I’m not having that. Come with me, you!” You followed him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Once downstairs, he grabbed your hand and sort of dragged you with him in his excitement. Together, only slightly against your will, you entered Arthur’s office at the betting shop, where John announced, “Y/N needs your desk.” “What? Why?” Arthur had questions written all over his face. Not really knowing what to do, you held up the essay again and waved it around a bit for effect. “Is that the essay Finn told me about?” he asked, also obviously trying very hard, “Let me see then.” And when you handed it over, like the proud brother he praised, “Look at that. That’s a lot of words, that is. Probably the right ones too. Well done, sister!”

“Get up, Arthur,” John demanded, as he started taking papers from his brother’s desk already. But when he went in to grab the bottle of rum to put it on the cabinet, you joked, “No leave that, I might need it.” Two pairs of big eyes stared at you, because even though they all did, you didn’t drink, and you quickly mumbled, “It’s a joke, don’t worry.” Okay no more jokes, you thought to yourself; too confusing for them.

As Arthur protested, John started lugging his desk out of the office, but eventually your eldest brother yielded and helped him carry it through the betting den and up the stairs, passed Aunt Polly, who obviously had so many questions. Arthur explained, “She has essays to write, Pol. Long ones.” Sheepishly you followed them and Aunt Polly asked you, “I thought school was almost done? This is your last month. Why do you need a desk now?” A little shy, you replied, “Not sure…” She smiled comfortingly at that, “We’ll find you something else to do, love.” But you weren’t at all sure of that. The sight of everyday boredom hung over you like impending doom. Once upstairs again, Arthur went back to work, but John stayed behind. It was like he was searching your face for clues as to what was really going on. Then he asked, “Are you not sure about your essay?” “No, I am,” you replied quickly, “I guess I’m just a little sad there’s only a few left to write. I’d like to do…more. You know, before my time’s up?” “I hated school…” he mused, “Glad to be free of it.”

“But I don’t…” And again you felt so very different from the other Shelby’s. John’s face suddenly lit up with an idea and he took your hand and guided you back down the stairs again. Polly called out, “Now what?” but no one really answered her. Your brother took you to his office and slowly opened the books, “I think I’ve made some errors in here along the way. I was wondering if you could help me?” “I appreciate the gesture, John…” you started. But he interrupted you, “It’s no gesture and I’m not just trying to give you something to do: I’m really struggling with this. I’m good at keeping the books and setting the odds, and my adding up is a vast improvement from bloody Arthur’s, but there’s things in here I can’t quite work out. Here, you see?” he pointed, “These numbers don’t add up and I can’t work out why.” Against your intentions, you now squinted over the book with him. After a few moments, you’d worked it out, “This is the one from Kempton, right? And next to it is the Derby, but the same horse ran in both, which should have an effect on the odds, but it didn’t. Also, you’ve mixed up your active and passive funds here, you should probably have different columns for them, so you’ll know our actual winnings, not the entire sum.” “See!” he called out proudly, “You’re good at this! You’re the smart one after all.” “You’re smart too, John, I know you are,” you protested. Looking at the books again, you noticed, “What’s this? Why are these the odds for Oxford’s Pastor? I thought that race was fixed.”

“It was, I think? I can’t remember…” he mumbled. “You should talk to Tommy about that, because if it is, the odds are wrong, and it means we’ve invested money into the jockey. Also, it says here a sum went to the widow from Garrison Courts, the one who lost her son to the explosion, but this shouldn’t be here, because there’s a different fund for that. Your numbers won’t add up and I’m guessing Polly already noticed.” John grinned a little, slightly embarrassed but mostly impressed by his little sister, “I thought you didn’t care for Shelby business.” You nodded, “I don’t. I don’t agree with what you do most of the time, but I still listen when all of you speak.” “So what do I do?” he asked. “Talk to Tommy and make sure his business and books match yours, make sure Aunt Polly checks these figures against the safe and you need to redo this month at least because these columns…” you looked up and saw puzzlement written all over your brother’s face, “Never mind, I’ll do it. You just talk to Tommy.” Eagerly, John left you the books and practically bounced out of the office. His plan had worked.

*** It had taken you about a week to sort the books out and in that week, you’d learned a lot about races and betting. There was a lot to consider, especially now that they had a legal racing pitch, as well as all the illegal betting taking place. And then there was the Garrison, your ownership designed to launder the money, but it was more important than ever that the books were kept neatly, otherwise it wouldn’t work.

Strangely enough, you enjoyed the work. At school, you’d always been more of a language student. Of course, the maths weren’t a real challenge, but you felt passionate about literature and poetry. But this, this wasn’t just a dry job for you to do; it felt like a puzzle that you had to solve. Finally, a challenge had presented itself again. “Y/N?” Tommy came into John’s office one day while you were working, “Come with me. Take those books.” Obeying at once, you picked up the heavy ledgers and followed him into his office. On the table, he had his paperwork laid out for you and you understood at once he wanted you to compare the books to each other. Evidently, John had told him about the discrepancies.

“You want me to fix these too?” you asked your brother. “If you can,” he commented, “My books are in order, I’m sure of it, but they need to match the others.” You looked at them and noticed Tommy’s were indeed a bit more neat. You told him, as gently as you could, “It would really help, Tommy, if you didn’t just plan everything in your head. I mean, if you talked to us about it and told John which races were fixed and what strategies you were planning next. If not for his sake, but just to keep the whole business in order.” He smirked, “Whatever happened to not getting involved, eh?” You looked at him, but didn’t reply. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to get involved in the family business or wanted to distance yourself further from them; it was that you weren’t comfortable with what they did. You appreciated all they’d created for this family and you certainly didn’t take the moral high ground. You yourself just didn’t want part in the illegal business. Tommy noticed your hesitation and decided not to push the subject. So instead he said, “John tells me you’re leaving school soon.” You nodded sadly at his statement. He continued, “What is it you would like to do?” You thought about it for a long time and finally decided, “Not be a girl?” Because that really was the problem here. The kids of Small Heath weren’t offered many chances, but sometimes, some really clever boys did move on to get an apprenticeship somewhere, like a newspaper or a firm. You’d even heard of some getting tutors and going off to university. But not girls. Your brother frowned, “I’m not alright with you not having the same chances as any boy. If you want to continue studying, I’ll find a way.” Smiling shyly, you said, “I appreciate it, Tommy, I really do, but there’s no point. Small Heath school doesn’t prepare me in the slightest for any further education and there’s nowhere I could go, even if I wanted to.” “You want to go to Oxford?” he asked straight up. You blinked, not having realised he’d picked up on your long-lasting dream of studying in some other city, let alone somewhere as prestigious as Oxford. “I’ve heard that two years ago, they started admitting female students over there.” “They’ve admitted them before, Tommy,” you corrected him, “Only last year they were able to get a degree.” You’d followed the papers with interest on the subject, silently daydreaming about being a part of that group of young women, walking the halls of that old, old place of learning. “What’s fucking point in going there if you don’t get a degree?” he half-joked, “How about I make some inquiries, eh? Maybe someone I know has a way in. You’d want to study English Literature, right? I’ll get you in. And if you need a tutor or some other fucking school to get you ready, I’ll make sure that happens, eh? If that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.” Without speaking a word, you hugged your brother around his waist. Still, you weren’t certain he could manage it, but the fact that he knew what you wanted and was willing to try and make it happen, meant the world to you. Then you realised, “John put you up to this, didn’t he?” “He may have mentioned it.” You smiled, but continued the hug a little longer. After a while, you broke free and immediately turned into your practical self again, putting the different financial books side by side, “This will take me a while, but I can do it. Is it alright if I work in here?” Tommy lit a cigarette and nodded at his sensible sister, “Yes. You could have your own office, you know, if you take on the position permanently.” Politely, you smiled, but still holding your ground, “No, Tommy. I don’t want to be part of the illegal business.” *** Against all hope, Tommy had indeed found you two tutors. You’d finished school with top marks and even the side-eyes from all of the other girls couldn’t bring you down. Also, your family cheering loudly from the front row helped a lot. And then a different, very exciting, new chapter of your life started. Every Wednesday and Thursday, you had lessons at your teachers’ houses and the other days, you were expected to do a lot of work on your own. You loved every second of it.

Arthur’s desk really came in handy now. All your books were perched on the sides and one look from John and he’d decided on building you a bookcase: ‘the start of your own library’, he’d said. And then one evening, late at night, when you were still working, he came in and asked you to come with him. “Tommy’s changing things,” he explained as you followed him, “and he needs the brains of the family to do it.” You had no idea who he was talking about and it took you a while to realise he might mean you. This filled you with some dread, because you still had no intention of joining the family business. Downstairs, you saw the family gathered around the table. A family meeting was obviously in full swing and apparently, they wanted you to join them for the first time. Tommy announced, “Welcome, Y/N. Why don’t you take a seat?” All eyes were on you, which you didn’t like, so you politely declined and prayed to God this wouldn’t take long. The head of the family continued, “As I mentioned before, Shelby Company Limited is now in the position to make a lot of money, both here and in London, and I plan on making the bulk of our money legally from now on,” Tommy looked directly at you as he spoke, “Someone in this family, the first Shelby to go to university probably, has changed my mind.” “Minor fucking miracle,” Aunt Polly mumbled, not without pride. “Now, Y/N,” Tommy pointed at you, “If I’m going to do this, I need your help. You’ve gotten the books in order for us and I know you’re busy with your studies, but I need an advisor. Now, I know you don’t agree with the business as it is, which is why I want to change things. I need you to do the legal books, John will do the others, but in six months’ time, I want most of what we do to be legal. Can you help me with that?” You sighed and thought about it long and hard. On the one hand, you were still firmly behind your decision not to get involved. Also, you had other things on your mind, such as your studies and your new ambition to get into Oxford. But you loved your brothers dearly and you wanted to support them where you could. And now, evidently, Tommy wanted to get away from the cut-throat gangster life. Loyalties torn, you decided to help them become good, as you’d always known they could be. So, you said, softly, “Alright.” A loud cheering erupted at the table. Feeling yourself getting red, you looked down, but John quickly came up to you, arms outstretched in a proud manner. And you realised you never would have been here, still studying and this close with your family against all odds, if it wasn’t for him. “Welcome to the business,” he said, “the new business.” *** Masterlist

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfiction #peaky blinders fluff #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #theshelbyclan #books #brains #shelby sister #shelby!sister #shelby sister imagine #shelby sister reader #shelby sister x tommy #sister!shelby

[hyacinth-sims]

Red

Summary: After picking up his boyfriend to go to their ‘spot,’ a discussion about a poetry assignment for his literature class brings Mercutio to a few realizations. 

Warnings: None, there’s like ONE incomplete somewhat sexual themed joke

Pairings: (Established) Tybalt Capp/Mercutio Monty

Words: 4.7k

Author’s note: you didn’t think i’d forget about this did you??? absolutely not! this one just took me a bit more time since it’s longer. again, softer tybby since he luuuuvs his boyfriend although their bickering dynamic is still there obviously. anyways i bet y’all thought mercutio was the only one capable of being the emotionally supportive boyfriend huh???? NO!

Mercutio had to park all the way in the very back corner of the furthest parking lot from the rugby pitch. Supposedly, it was to avoid anyone seeing him picking up Tybalt from rugby practice. However, Mercutio thought that Tybalt randomly walking half a mile away from his other teammates at the end of practice was more suspicious than parking in a regular spot. But it kept Tybalt from being on edge, and it’s not like Mercutio was the one having to walk anyway. 

He took the time before the end of rugby practice to pull out his journal, covered in black leather and various vinyl stickers. Mercutio was known for his prowess in his literature class, and it seemed to more than make up for his lack of STEM abilities. Such a shame, he’d totally be an entomologist but the required math skills to get there were just not within his reach. 

So instead, he’d admire bugs on his own time and find a subject to write his newest class assignment about. Mercutio had his entire class fooled, believing he was genuinely bearing his soul for all to see with his poems of love, loss, and hatred. Instead, he was actually writing about his random encounters with different bugs. The only person who knew about this was Tybalt—although he only found out because he caught Mercutio in the act of staring at a butterfly while writing their love poem assignment. 

Unfortunately, he’d been dealing with a bit of writer’s block lately. The assignment for this week had been ‘color poems,’ or a poem about a specific color and what it meant to them. Not even the sight of a beautifully pink elephant hawk moth could drum up any inspiration. It was due in two days, and Mercutio could ask Tybalt for help—but Tybalt’s eloquent use of language only translated to off-the-cuff insults and not necessarily any form of written word. 

All he could really think to do was open his personal journal, glancing through what he had written previously. There was a day when all he could do was sit in front of the urns of his parents and reminisce—both on the good times and the very worst days of his life. The poem was about the funeral, about the day he realized what purpose he served to his family. There was another about what it meant to be the oldest, as well as the spare. Many were about what he could never tell the world, what he refused to show, and what he held close to himself. 

They weren’t all sad, though; some were actual human takes on the love poems he’d written about bugs. Admittedly, all of them were about Tybalt, but why wouldn’t they be? Mercutio had previously never been very much interested in love or relationships. He’d kissed people at parties, maybe even hooked up with one or two—that wasn’t love, though. 

Mercutio always thought that Romeo fell in love far too easily; it seemed like every pretty girl who gave him a smile was ‘the one.’ Love didn’t come as quickly to Mercutio, and he truthfully never thought it would come at all. It hit him like a truck when it did, and it was the most frightening yet awakening experience of his entire life. He finally got the hype around it, too.

Speaking of which—Mercutio glanced up at his rearview mirror, seeing Tybalt approaching from across the parking lot. Picking up Tybalt from rugby practice to hang out wasn’t meant to be as routine as it had become, but opportunities to spend time together were few and far between. 

Before, Tybalt would sneak out to the Monty ranch at night; that was their only chance to see one another outside school. However, Tybalt had finally been caught sneaking back in by his grandfather. Thankfully, Tybalt made up an on-the-spot lie about a party just outside of town. Sneaking out to get drunk with a bunch of random teenagers was clearly the better alternative to sneaking out and kissing a Monty when it came to Consort Capp. 

The backdoor of his car opened just as quickly as it shut, Tybalt assumingly tossing his gym bag into the backseat. The passenger door was next to swing open, and Tybalt slid into the seat as he usually did. It was already adjusted to his liking, slightly scooted back to accommodate his long legs. Romeo would always complain about it when Mercutio would drive them to school, asking who Mercutio was giving rides to that constantly needed the seat this far back. 

He was definitely keeping that secret from him. 

Mercutio took a moment to stare at Tybalt, noting every tiny detail about his appearance in that minute. His hair was still slightly damp from the post-practice shower, the crinkle in his brow suggested that some element of practice had been frustrating, and the flushed face…

He hooked a finger under Tybalt’s chin, lifting it and turning his face towards him. “Tough practice or kissing other boys in the locker room?” Mercutio teased with a smirk.

Tybalt scoffed as he swatted away Mercutio’s hand, “Frankly, I’m insulted that you think I’d find any of my teammates attractive enough to kiss.” 

“Eric’s kinda cute, no?” He continued to banter, resulting in Tybalt leaning over and lightly flicking his forehead. 

“I’ll be sure to let him know you think so,” Tybalt replied as he rolled his eyes. 

Truthfully, Mercutio knew very little about Tybalt’s teammates—outside of a few names he’d heard during rants after practice. They were both uncertain if Mercutio would be able to attend one of Tybalt’s rugby games without someone causing a fuss. Although granted, most of the involved adults of Veronaville weren’t exactly the type to be hanging around the stands during a rugby game. Supposedly, Consort didn’t go to Tybalt’s games, and there was no reason for any of his aunts and uncles to do so, either.

“You’re still my favorite, though,” Mercutio playfully assured as he leaned in—attempting to catch Tybalt’s lips for a quick kiss. Unfortunately, he was met with three fingers pressed against his mouth instead. Not quick enough. 

“We’re on school grounds,” Tybalt reminded him, narrowing his eyes as Mercutio gently took hold of the hand on his lips—placing a kiss on the pads of his fingertips. Not even his scowl could hide the pink flush making its way onto his pale, freckled cheeks. 

Mercutio twisted the key in the ignition, put the car in reverse, and began to head out of the parking lot. He shifted the gear to drive before glancing back over at Tybalt, “So, I’m assuming the flushed face means rough practice?” Tybalt was the team captain and very much strived for perfection. Supposedly, he could be a bit harsh at times, but if he was still on good terms with his teammates—he couldn’t be that harsh. 

“Mm, no,” Tybalt answered as he shook his head, “Practice went rather well, seems like the other guys are just as determined to win our next game…” He could see Tybalt bite his lip out of the corner of his eye, sparing a quick glance as he kept his focus on the road. “They seem to have deduced that I am…seeing someone,” He continued, gritting his teeth, “They did, in fact, point out the very long walks I take after practice.”  

Mercutio couldn’t help the loud laugh that he let out; he knew it would happen eventually. “Did they make any guesses as to who?” He asked with a smirk. 

“They started with Puck,” Tybalt said as he started counting on his fingers, “Then Paris, even Benvolio, and then someone who lives in a different town…” The idea of Tybalt dating any of them was baffling to him—okay, maybe he could potentially see him dating Puck. But they were both gingers, so that would be weird. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mercutio began as he raised an eyebrow, “I wasn’t even on the list?” 

Tybalt shook his head, “No.”

Now, that was completely ridiculous. There was clearly no better candidate for being Tybalt’s boyfriend than, y’know…Tybalt’s boyfriend himself! Alright, granted, they didn’t know that Mercutio was Tybalt’s boyfriend—but he at least should’ve made the list of guesses!

“I’m gonna have to start wearing your rugby jacket around and going to every single one of your games dressed as a cheerleader,” Mercutio commented, “I’ll even write your own personal cheer and everything—I think I’d be pretty good at that.” While Mercutio didn’t mind how things were with Tybalt now, it would be nice to be publicly dating without worrying about their families finding out.

He wanted to go to every single rugby game, every single debate team event, and maybe another piano recital if Tybalt was up for it. Mercutio loved to watch Tybalt be in his element. Nothing was truly more captivating than the concentration he emitted as he furrowed his brow with a fierce look of determination in his silver eyes. 

“I’m admittedly terrified at what you would come up with in terms of a cheer,” Tybalt replied with what could’ve perhaps been a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “And my rugby jacket is quite expensive. What makes you think I can trust you to care for it properly?” 

“I’ll just get it dry cleaned every single day if it’ll make you happy,” Mercutio replied with a shrug, “But if you’re hellbent on not letting your lovely boyfriend wear your rugby jacket…I can always make you a jacket to match mine! I mostly order my patches online or make my own—I can make you some, too.” 

He could hear Tybalt give a small exhale through his nose and a slight smirk on his lips. “We’ll see,” He answered, and that was likely as good of a response as he would get on that matter. Personally, Mercutio was already planning on what patches he’d put on Tybalt’s theoretical jacket. He definitely needed something to let people know that he was firmly taken.

Tybalt didn’t ever seem to notice the fact he was physically attractive, which also meant he rarely ever noticed when people were hitting on him. How Tybalt seemed to be clueless, Mercutio had no idea. He had pretty, dark, and long eyelashes that framed his shimmering silver eyes. His thick yet immaculately groomed eyebrows were of the same shade—it was a miracle that they didn’t match the ginger with flecks of gold on his head. Of course, he couldn’t speak of Tybalt’s attractiveness and not discuss those cheekbones, as well as how angular the rest of his face was too— 

“All that thinking is dangerous for you,” Tybalt teased, pulling him out of his thoughts. That attitude was definitely what stopped many people from practically slobbering over him. Clearly, it had little effect on how Mercutio felt about him. If anything, he liked his scathing insults and sharp comebacks. He liked to hear what he would come up with at the drop of a hat, not even having to think of his words. 

Mercutio simply took a hand off the wheel to lightly punch Tybalt’s shoulder, not denying that delving further into his thoughts would probably be pretty dangerous. Luckily for him, they finally pulled into the gravel parking lot of what used to be a park. Now, it was only grass, trees, and overgrown greenery. 

He put the car in park before switching off the ignition, hearing Tybalt already clicking off his seatbelt and opening the passenger side door. “Eager?” Mercutio teasingly asked with a smirk, resulting in a disgusted noise from Tybalt as he unclicked his own seat belt and took a step out of the car. 

“No, just need some fresh air,” Tybalt began, “I was holding my breath the entire ride here because your car smells like weed and shitty cologne.” 

Mercutio frowned as he stood outside his car, slamming the door shut behind him and patting the hood of his car. “Hey, be nice to Loretta,” Mercutio defended, “Sure, she might hold onto the smell of weed like no other, but she’s treated me very well throughout her lifetime!” 

“I really hate that you named your car Loretta,” Tybalt answered, his expression clearly unchanging and unamused.

“Jealous?” Mercutio teased, “I assure you that there’s plenty of room in my heart for both you and dear Loretta.” 

“I am not jealous of your car that might as well be as old as your grandma. You even named it appropriately,” He quipped back, and look— that was an unfair assessment. Loretta was only 15 years old but ran like she was brand new! Well, except for the time she broke down on the side of the road at 2 AM. But besides that and the weird noises she makes, she was a great car!

Mercutio walked in front of the car, moving to stand next to Tybalt against the passenger side door. “You sound pretty jealous to me,” Mercutio said with a small smirk, knocking his finger against Tybalt’s chin. The other man narrowed his eyes at him, and it was so hard to keep his teasing expression on his face. Many people thought Tybalt was terrifying, and Mercutio admittedly used to be one of them. However, Tybalt was more like an angry kitten than anything else.

It was hard not to laugh at his scrunched nose and furrowed brows. “Can I cash in that kiss, by the way?” Mercutio added with a happy grin, “We’re off school grounds, and according to your rules—I am allowed to show affection on neutral grounds, and these are technically neutral grounds since it’s just outside of town.” Mercutio honestly didn’t care much about getting caught, but Tybalt seemed to be terrified that they were being watched at all times.

“You’re ridiculous,” Tybalt murmured as he shook his head. He took his face in his hands regardless and placed his lips against Mercutio’s. Tybalt had confessed to never having kissed anyone before Mercutio, which was both surprising yet expected all at the same time. He was a quick learner, though; Mercutio never would’ve known had he not told him. 

His kisses were light to the touch yet very much addicting all at the same time. It always made Mercutio want more, but it would never be his right to take that. Tybalt was not accustomed to any kind of physical affection, whether it be platonic or romantic. The first time his fingers brushed against his cheek, he could remember the jolt that suddenly emitted from Tybalt. He’d looked confused, afraid, and close to tears from a simple touch. 

He’d gotten a bit better, and small touches and light kisses were allowed without question. Everything else was left up to Tybalt, and Mercutio was perfectly alright with that. 

They split apart, Mercutio finding his cheeks warming up as Tybalt’s eyes fluttered open. He was too pretty for his own good. “Satisfied?” Tybalt asked as he raised an eyebrow rather smugly.

“I mean…are you asking if the kiss was good or are you—“ Mercutio began, promptly cut off by a sharp poke to his forehead. 

“You’re a dog,” Tybalt replied with a huff, although it was clear he was trying to stop himself from laughing. While the kissing and cuddling were all very nice, Mercutio liked seeing Tybalt lose his serious facade more. Whether or not people wanted to believe it, Tybalt was very much capable of laughing at crude humor and sex jokes if he was feeling comfortable enough.

He could hear Tybalt let out a hum as he stood before him, brushing back some of his dark hair from his face. “You need to get a trim,” He commented as he let a small strand of hair fall between his fingertips, “Your layers are completely grown out at this point.” While many would see Tybalt’s words as being judgmental, the physical affection meant he was in a particularly good mood that day. So Mercutio would take what he could get.

“Yes, mom,” Mercutio replied as he sarcastically rolled his eyes. Tybalt’s hands fell to his side, lightly grazing the hem of Mercutio’s denim vest. “How’s your poetry assignment going, by the way?” Mercutio asked, the first semblance of a casual conversation they’d had all evening. While, of course, he wanted nothing more than for Tybalt to succeed in literally anything he did, part of him was hoping he’d also be a bit behind so they could bounce ideas off of one another. 

“Better than I expected, admittedly,” Tybalt answered with a small nod. “I was going to pick the family color and write about that initially,” He began to explain, “But I felt that was too expected, and I wasn’t coming up with any results that felt genuine. So I went with green instead; I think it reminds me of better times. I know I spent part of the poem talking about being in the gardens behind the Capp manor with my mother as a kid.” It was nice to hear that Tybalt had broken a barrier when it came to writing; he was one to always want to do well, even if it was a subject he wasn’t particularly interested in. 

Mercutio nodded with a small smile, wondering if he should even bother Tybalt with something as minuscule as writer’s block. Although judging by the raised eyebrow and inquisitive look, Tybalt was expecting an update on his own writing. He took a deep breath before letting out a sigh, “I’ve hit a wall.” 

“How so?” Tybalt asked curiously.

“I mean, I tried to write about my favorite colors like green, black, blue…” He began, listing them off with his fingers, “Couldn’t come up with anything. So then I went with pink because I saw this beautiful elephant hawk moth, but not even that was enough to drum up some inspiration…so, kinda back at square one over here.” To say it was frustrating would be an understatement because it was nothing Mercutio had ever experienced before. Usually, just seeing a cool bug was enough to write a novel about if he pleased.

It was just something else entirely; he wasn’t sure what.

Tybalt slowly nodded, “I mean—your bug poems are quite nice, but have you considered writing about something else entirely?” 

To say he hadn’t considered it would be wrong. He definitely had. However, Mercutio never thought that it would be worth trying. “I don’t really know how interested people would be in poems about my life,” Mercutio said with a shrug. His tone was nonchalant, but Tybalt seemed taken aback. 

“Why?” was all Tybalt replied with, and it was an even more difficult question than the last. 

“People don’t really associate me with stories about dead parents and borderline emotional neglect,” Mercutio answered, “I don’t think anyone really wants to know who I am past what I already show openly, which is whatever, I guess.” 

“That’s…” Tybalt began, but the words couldn’t escape his lips. He could see that furrow in his brow begin to form and the rumbling storm in the silver of his eyes. He was frustrated with him, and he truthfully couldn’t blame him. “Why would you think that?” He asked. 

Mercutio pondered on his question for a moment, but all he could think of was another one in response; “Why do you hide who you are from people?” Maybe some would find that passive-aggressive, but they both knew the question was genuine. 

“It’s easier,” Tybalt answered without hesitation, “Being on the attack all the time is much easier than letting someone in. My grandfather also placed great importance on me being tough, and I wanted to make him proud.” Tybalt was a strange case of nature vs. nurture, as it was hard to say whether his anger issues had always lurked underneath the surface or if it was something forced onto him by Consort Capp.

Mercutio blocked out a lot from his childhood, but he very much remembered what Tybalt was like before his parents died. He was timid, always clinging onto his mother if she was around. If she wasn’t, he often chose to stand away from the other children in complete silence. But he also remembered Tybalt had the brightest smile when finally comfortable with someone. It was as if the sun shone right onto him, and it was something hard to erase from his memory.

When his parents died, something fundamentally changed within him. He was full of anger, refusing to let anyone see any semblance of ‘weakness.’ Mercutio knew there were still some parts of that child within him, though, because he would still have to catch his breath sometimes when Tybalt offered him something that resembled a smile. 

“When my parents died…” Mercutio began, biting the inside of his cheek as he soon realized he’d never told Tybalt this story before. “Nonno pulled me aside at the funeral and pointed at Viola and Romeo, crying their eyes out. He told me I needed to be strong for them since I was now the ‘man’ of the family—I was 13.” He was never given a chance to grieve properly, to miss his parents, to even shed a single tear. “Nonno said that they needed to know that if I was okay, they could be too,” He continued, “So I guess that’s why I think that, because nobody was interested in how I felt outside of making other people feel better.”

It was the first time he’d spoken about any of this to anyone. Many people assumed that the Monty’s were the more ‘emotional’ and loving family out of the two feuding families, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. They just knew how to hide their issues better than the Capps, when in reality—they were just as emotionally stunted as them. 

“You worry so much about what other people need,” Tybalt stated as he kicked a small piece of gravel beneath his feet, “Have you ever thought about what it is that you need?” 

The question caught him completely off guard, partially because it was from Tybalt—who would rather choke on his own spit than have an emotional conversation. But it was mostly because he’d never thought about what it was he needed. He’d spent the past few years convincing himself that his sole purpose in his family was to be the glue that held things together, especially as his grandparents’ arguments grew more frequent, as Romeo snuck out of the house more, and as Viola seemed to stray further and further from what was expected of a Monty.

And yet, he’d never cared to notice his own cracks—his own broken pieces. “I…” Mercutio began, the words stuck in his throat as his mind went completely blank. “When you spend so much time worrying about everyone else, you rarely ever think about yourself,” He admitted, a better answer than a simple ‘I don’t know.’ 

“It’s a sad way to live,” Tybalt commented with a deep frown that quickly flared into anger, “Why the fuck is it our responsibility to fix what they’ve broken?” It was clear that the they in question was their grandparents, “Our parents probably wouldn’t be six feet under if not for their stupid bullshit, so why do we have to be the strong ones?” 

Mercutio could feel his eyes begin to light up with tears as he wiped them away, “Technically, mine are in an urn…” It was probably an inappropriate time for gallows humor, but it was all he really knew. 

“It’s a figure of speech,” Tybalt replied with a slight shrug, “My mom’s in an urn too—while my dad is in the graveyard. I think when grandfather dies, I want to ask Juliette if mother can be moved to the graveyard next to father, that’s where she would want to be anyways.” 

They stood in silence for another moment, watching the sky change to hues of purple and orange as the sun began to set. Tybalt very loosely threaded their fingers together, continuing to stare up at the pink clouds above. “You and I will never be the cure,” He confessed quietly before turning his attention back to Mercutio, “I’ll be here, though.” 

The idea that love was able to fix all was solely something that Romeo believed in. He believed that if you had love, there was nothing else that you could ever need. Mercutio wished he’d had the opportunity to be so naive. Many people thought him immature or boyish, but Mercutio had to grow up much faster than his siblings. Fuck, he was 19 years old and already stressing about helping his grandparents sort out their wills. It was easier to be carefree, to pretend that he was far more childish than he really was. He hoped that maybe if he pretended enough, he would begin to believe it.

Mercutio carefully lifted their locked hands towards his face, pressing a light kiss to the back of Tybalt’s hand. “That’s all I need from you,” He whispered quietly, feeling a small crack in his voice. Mercutio didn’t like to cry, but he especially hated crying in front of other people. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done so, but it had to have been before the death of his parents. There was no stopping it now, though, as he could feel a tear begin to make its way down his cheek.

Tybalt reached over and carefully wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. There didn’t seem to be any words left to say, but Mercutio mouthed a silent ‘thank you.’ Maybe it was for the affection, the conversation, or for simply being around when he needed him most. Tybalt offered him a quiet nod in response, letting their fingers remain locked between one another. “I don’t think I can write about this…” Mercutio said as he gestured to himself, with his tired expression and damp eyes, “But I think I have some ideas.” 

“That’s alright,” Tybalt assured quietly. It was clearly a familiar feeling for both of them, the uncertainty of whether they would be able to ever talk about their trauma to the world. He gave Mercutio's hand a small squeeze, “Do you want me to stay over tonight? I’m certain I can get Hermia to cover for me. Otherwise, I’ll just tell Grandfather I went to another party.” 

Mercutio didn’t want to get Tybalt into hot water with his grandfather anymore than he already had, but he also knew he really couldn’t be alone that night. Sometimes, it felt as though the bad memories swirled through his head even more than usual later in the day, threatening to consume him as he sat alone on his bed. Having Tybalt there with him to likely talk in depth about Les Misérables or Cats the entire night was more than enough to distract him from his own thoughts. 

“Nonno and Nonna are out of town,” He answered quietly with a small nod, “I can make you dinner; I just might have to wait ‘til Romeo and Viola go to bed.” He knew he should probably teach Tybalt to cook for himself, but then that would mean he’d stop sneaking to Mercutio’s house at 1 AM asking for leftovers—and he really couldn’t have that. 

The tears in Mercutio’s eyes eventually dried up as they discussed their plans for their impromptu sleepover, which included watching ‘Moulin Rouge’ and playing ‘Pikmin 2.’ However, he wanted to start working on his poem as soon as Tybalt fell asleep.

The color he chose was red, a color he was born to hate but yet was drawn to like an inescapable force of gravity. Red felt warm, red felt safe, and red felt like home. He’d always loved the color red, hadn’t he? 

SUPER SECRET AUTHOR'S NOTE: yes tybalt did write about them going to the overgrown park in his green poem

#i love them both they're so soft #also UGHHH mercutio being good at respecting tybalt's boundaries we have to stan #ts2 #the sims 2 #veronaville #ts2 premades #tybalt capp #mercutio monty #sims 2 #tycutio #sims tycutio #sims 2 fanfiction #my writing

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x student!reader - hidden art

Hi. Can you please do prompt #42 (from the new set) with Mr. Evershed? Somewhere along the lines of that he spots the tattoo on one of his students. - Anon 💜

42: “Nice tattoo.” “Thanks.” “What’s it mean?” “No idea.”

Sitting on the wall, you flicked to the next page of your book, taking a sip from your water bottle and you set it back down.

It was quiet in this part of the school during lunch, and since you weren’t a big fan of other people, you enjoyed sitting here instead.

It’s probably why you were easy to find, because when the door nearby opened you looked up from your book and you gave a small smile.

“Good afternoon Mr Evershed.” You greeted.

“How’re you today?” He asked.

Putting your bookmark into the book, you closed the book and set it aside.

“I’m good, what brings you out here?”

Mr Evershed sat on the bench and gestured for you to go over to him so you did. Gathering your things you made your way to the bench and sat down.

He held out a bit of paper to you which you took and quickly read over.

“Basketball competition?”

“I know our school focuses a lot on football and rugby, but you seem to enjoy basketball the most, I thought maybe you would be interested in playing on a team outside of school.” He smiled.

You nodded your head, folding the paper and you put it into your bag.

“Thank you sir, I’ll take a look later.”

He smiled at you, gesturing to your book.

“And what are we reading today?”

“A collection of French poetry from the 19th century.”

“French? I didn’t know you could speak French.”

“Oh I can’t, I can read it. I can understand if someone talked to me in French but I actually can’t speak the language, I’m not very good with the pronunciation.”

“Ah, right. Well, it certainly makes a difference. Would you say it’s a good read?”

“Absolutely, it’s good. Very different to other poetry I’ve read. Though there are still some works that nothing can beat, a few works by Shakespeare for example.”

He chuckled a little bit, nodding his head in understanding.

You took another book out of your bag and held it out to him.

“Maybe you would be interested in this, it’s a series of letters from world wars one and two that have been compiled into a book.”

He took the book from you.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to give it a read and have it back to you at the end of the week.”

You always gave him something to read, mostly old books, you never read modern literature, telling him it didn’t have the same effect as old literature did.

And since he was an English teacher you thought he would have interest in looking them over, which he did.

He liked to encourage people to keep their hobbies, to peruse them if it was something safe and of course not against the law.

He’d made that mistake once and it resulted in graffiti all over the school.

But you weren’t a trouble maker, you kept to yourself, you work in your classes, you had good grades, passing grades at least.

The bell rang and you picked up your stuff, giving him a small smile.

“See you later sir.”

“Have a good afternoon, and remember it’s non uniform day tomorrow!” He called.

You nodded, making your way inside.

The next day you went into school, it was some sort of festival going on.

You weren’t really paying attention when it was being explained, all you knew was that you didn’t need to wear uniform, and there was activities inside and outside.

But you weren’t interested in any of them, you thought it was just a waste of your time, so you made your way into an empty classroom, sitting on the windowsill as you read.

You head your headphones on, listening to music, blocking out the noises of everything and the people all around yelling and shouting.

Because you were listening to your music, you weren’t aware of the door to the classroom opening and closing.

The moment Mr Evershed walked in he stopped, looking over at you.

“(Y/N)? Why aren’t you outside with everybody else?”

He waited for a reply, and when he didn’t get one he began to make his way over.

As he got closer, he noticed the colour on your arm, but he realised that wasn’t it.

He reached out, tapping your shoulder with the papers he was holding and you turned to look at him.

Setting your book down you pulled your headphones down.

“Hello sir.”

“Hello to you too. What brings you here?”

“I don’t want to partake in the festivities, they aren’t really my thing. People and loud places.”

He hummed a little bit.

“Right, sorry. I forgot. How are you? Are you alright in here?”

You nodded your head.

“Yeah, it’s pretty quiet so it’s not so bad over this way. Plus I’ve got my music and book to keep me company.”

“Good, I’m glad. Do you mind if I sit with you while I grade some papers.”

You gestured to the classroom.

“Go ahead.”

He sat at one of the tables and you jumped down to join him, sitting down with your book as you carried on reading.

Mr Evershed used this as a chance to look at your upper arm again to confirm his suspicions.

“Nice tattoo.” He said.

You looked up, grinning a little.

“Thanks.”

“What’s it mean?”

You gave a shrug.

“No idea.”

This made him chuckle.

“How long have you had it for? And I’m rather sure that it’s illegal for you to have a tattoo.”

“You would be right on that, it is. But, I can get one with a parents approval from certain places, it was my birthday gift last year from my dad.”

“I see, do you mind if I take a look?”

You shook your head, pulling your sleeve up so he could see the whole design.

It was of a tree, he wasn’t sure what kind of tree it was, maybe a willow tree or something similar, but where it should be green it was covered in all sorts of colours, all in a watercolour style.

“It’s really nice. Out of all the students here you’d be the last one I’d suspect if a tattoo.”

You laughed a little, pulling your sleeve back down.

“I’m careful to hide it, it draws too much attention.”

“Well, as long as you keep it hidden I can’t see any wrong with that.”

“Thanks sir.”

He nodded, turning back to his paperwork and you went back to reading.

You were just a bundle of surprises, and even now there was still a lot that nobody knew about you

#ackley bridge #ackley bridge imagine #ackley bridge x reader #ackley bridge x you #mr evershed #mr evershed x reader #mr evershed imagine #mr evershed x you

[life-in-the-garden]

A Spell for Bisclavret

Introduction

I don’t talk about my academic life here much, so for those who aren’t in the know: I’m an undergrad in the US working towards an English degree (going part-time because I also have to work to earn my daily bread like the wage slave that I am). Last semester was… incredibly stressful, but I ended up really enjoying a class about romances written in medieval Europe. We started with eight of the Lais (long poems) of Marie de France, a woman writer of the time period, and one of those Lais was titled “Bisclavret.” If you aren’t aware, Bisclavret is an Old French word for “werewolf” AND is the name of the main character… since songwriters in the Middle Ages weren’t exactly subtle much of the time.

The spell I created—and am now sharing with you—was inspired by the character Bisclavret and his story, and draws upon the power of this knightly werewolf of yore.

image credit

If you want to read a translation of Marie de France’s “Bisclavret,” you can do so here. This isn’t a translation that I’m fond of (I think the rhyming is unnecessary), but it’s free to access and gets the gist across just fine. On the off chance that you want to read the translation that I actually recommend, which includes the Old French source text alongside the English, then check out The Lais of Marie de France: Text and Translation by Claire M. Waters.

If you don’t want to read a good many lines of poetry, here’s the summary: In his story, the knight Bisclavret is tricked by his scheming, adulterous wife into revealing his wolf form to her, whereupon she becomes frightened and hides his clothes. Therefore, Bisclavret cannot change back into his human form, and so lived in the wilderness as a wolf until found by King Arthur and brought to Camelot. There, in the court, he behaves so courteously that everyone remarks at how noble and regal the wolf is… until Bisclavret sees his former wife and her new husband, whom he attacks. Arthur, who believes that the wolf would not attack without reason, interrogates the human couple and learns the truth about Bisclavret. The werewolf’s clothes are returned, and he transforms back into a man as Arthur orders the exile of Bisclavret’s ex-wife and her husband from the realm.

This spell, titled "Garwolf," is a piece of baneful magic intended to punish a thief.

Garwolf

You will need:

1 or more pieces of paper for writing upon

a writing implement

a method of destroying the paper, ideally via fire (and all associated fire safety accouterments) or else via a shredder, scissors, or what have you

Method:

Think of a time where something was stolen from you. The stolen thing doesn't need to be a physical item; maybe an abusive parent stole a happy childhood from you, for example. This spell assumes that the stolen thing has been permanently lost in spite of your best efforts to retrieve it, and that you cannot find peace through mundane methods. If the only option left is magical retribution for the hurt you've undergone, then this spell is for you.

Take the paper and write a letter about the person who stole from you. (if you can't write easily or struggle to read your own handwriting, you are absolutely allowed to type the letter on a computer/phone and then print it out). Pour out all the hate in your heart onto the page. Describe how you were hurt, and how it made you feel, and how you want the target of this baneful working to feel and what they should suffer as recourse for the pain they've caused you. You are an entire human being who deserves respect, dignity, and safety; don't minimize your own feelings here. Let it out and hold nothing back. (This step focuses your intention).

When the letter is finished, fold it up as small as you can and carry it on your person for three days and three nights (approximately 72 hours). Shortly after each time you wake up during this period, read the letter aloud to yourself and ruminate on your feelings towards the target. Do the same thing before going to sleep. Remember that you are worthy and that nobody has the right to make you feel lesser. (This step charges the spell).

When the three days and nights are finished, read the letter aloud a final time and then destroy it with all the rage and hatred you can muster. Tear it to pieces! Burn it! Shred it! Render your words unrecognizable as you release your energy into the universe to carry out your will of bringing misfortune, hardship, and/or suffering upon the spell's target. (This step casts the spell).

(If destroying the letter via fire, remember to follow all applicable fire safety procedures and don't burn down your surroundings in the process).

To cool down from casting this piece of emotionally intensive baneful magic, practice some self-care. Make yourself a cozy beverage and/or take a luxurious bath or shower, for example, and remember that you have an innate worthiness that can never be stolen from you.

If you found this spell intriguing, please consider tossing some spare change towards my ko-fi so that I can continue sharing my magical work!

#witchcraft #witchblr #spellcraft #spellwork #baneful magic #pop culture magic #pop culture witchcraft #haven's original spells

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

Hello! I hope I’m not too late for the character matchups. My name is Ana Raluca but most people call me Ana, although I like to be called both Ana and Raluca.

For likes, I enjoy reading(especially Agatha Christie novels or mystery novels); museums(I could spend hours wandering through them); spending time in bookstores; walking around the city(especially at night. The city is absolutely gorgeous at night); hanging out with my friends; making sweets(and eating them); traveling; watching YouTube videos; history; languages; occasionally practicing my piano skills; sweets; learning new things; singing; listening to music; helping people; making treats with my mother; summer; occasionally writing poetry and making stories up in my head. My hobbies are the same as my likes(for the most part, cause generally when I have free time I do whatever I feel like doing).

As for the dislikes, I hate being late(and when others are late); I failing(or losing); taking low grades; forgetting to do things(here homework is included); lying(I find lying useless and hurtful. I don’t see why people do it); arrogant people; know-it-alls; liars; jerks; bullies; mathematics; Physical Education class; romance novels or movies(I just think that most of them are so cliche it’s annoying); the cold; radishes; having debt(I don’t like knowing that I owe something to someone). These are my likes and dislikes(or at least the majority of them)

As for characters I don’t like, I absolutely don’t like Leona. My favourite characters from TWST Wonderland are Azul and Riddle.

I am looking forward to see with which character from Twisted Wonderland you will match me.

Hello Ana! (Sorry this took so long btw) I paid you with Malleus!

Calculating, quiet and oftentimes alone, our left out gargoyle lover shares quite a few hobbies with you. From history to sweets to museums he shows a plethora of different hobbies and knowledge knowledgeable to share with others. Mainly above that he values good genuine companionship. Malleus shows a distaste in being left out and uninvited and though he's not a quick learner for technology, you'll show him the ropes, won't you?

Malleus would absolutely love to go to museums with you and out on long walks during the night. It seems he'll never find a dull moment with you. You like books? Well, Diasomnia has quite the selection from a huge library. Malleus being royalty likely knows how to play a musical instrument of the kind, so he'd love to play a tune with you. Malleus has lived several years, so he's likely tried everything more than once aside from having friends and technology type things.

As for snacking, Malleus may not know how to bake as well as others, but he can be quite the sampler as long as you are willing to join him. Malleus would certainly be the type to play with your hair or hold you whilst you write down poetry, or hum a familiar tune with you under his breath. Malleus would certainly treat you like a Queen.

"Well, child of man. I certainly find myself more enamored by you day by day. Tell me, would you fancy a walk?"

Character Matchups can be found here

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #Twist #twist malleus #character matchups #twisted wonderland malleus

[lizthewriter]

💖  for harry potter universe please? if you have the time? (also i adore your writing!)

my name is emma, i’m bi and i’m an extrovert (entp according to myers briggs). my hobbies are reading, playing soccer and writing poetry. i’m also a very bad artist and enjoy pottery for fun (and not for the end result which is always a mess lol). another hobby of mine, if it counts as a hobby, is debating with people about almost anything. i just love a good debate and love going back and forth on a topic for hours.

in my friendships i am down for anything and will do anything for my friends. even though i’m typically the one getting us into trouble because i truly will try anything once and tend to act without thinking it through fully. i’m also just a huge talker and can talk my way into and out of anything. but if a friend needs me i will drop everything to be there for them. i missed a final exam once to fly to see one of my friends when her boyfriend dumped her. and i would do it again lol. much to the chagrin of my parents.

other details…. my style is fairly feminine with lots of skirts and silk dresses and ballet flats. my dream city to live in is marseille and my dream profession is to be a writer and somehow make money with poetry and novels. i’m studying philosophy and french at school. i barely sleep because i wake up every morning at 6 and can’t fall asleep until late in the night. i love cooking new recipes and baking for friends.

my love language to others is giving them gifts. my love language to receive is quality time. i can be pretty guarded romantically and use humor as a coping mechanism and it can take a long time to actually know me. i’m slow to trust and i’ve never had a long relationship bc i always end up breaking up with them around the three month mark. i just get kind of scared of commitment and love. (even though i do want those things.)

also according to all the tests and quizzes i am either a slytherin or a ravenclaw. i can never decide which fits best. though i do have intense ambition and tend to be an all or nothing type of person. like while i do get great grades and have never failed a class, i am so bad at actually studying and i tend to procrastinate until the last minute and still get an a. so i’m not quite studious but i am smart. and a little conceited sometimes which definitely doesn’t ever help me.

i hope this is enough? or not too much? i tend to be too much so sorry if this is.

hey emma! gosh, i . . . . the way i read this and immediately thought to myself, wow this girl is so much like me 💀 especially with the apologizing for being too much at the end 😭😭 before i start, unprecedented rant: please don't ever apologize for being too much. one, you gave me the perfect amount of detail about you, absolutely what i was looking for! two, never let anyone make you feel bad for "being too much" or "talking too much," there is no such thing, only people who are boring and have no personality don't like talkers 🙄 you seem like a really nice person <33 DON'T LET THE HATERS GET YOU DOWN!!

anyways, moving on 🙃 honestly, i can see you with either theodore nott or pansy parkinson, but mostly theo. in any case, you're definitely in a enemies-to-lovers or friends-to-lovers scenario.

with theo, you guys start out as great friends who tend to have a lot of witty banter amongst each other. most likely you met through some sort of study group or through mutual friends and began to bond that way. theo would for sure be the first to fall for you - he loves a girl who can rebuttal his arguments and debate with him without just giving up when they don't win the argument. he appreciates your wit and ambition, as well as your soft side. he probably first fell in love with you when you dropped everything to be there for him on a bad day, and subsequently, he later admired his feelings for you in a similar situation.

theo's not good with his emotions in any way, shape, or form - so he never admits when he's feeling down. procrastinating your upcoming exam, you decide to go hang out with theo in his dorm. but you find the dorm empty at first, with no one in sight. you call our for theo's name, and search all around the dorm before turning towards the bathroom. the door was closed, but it was obviously occupied because of the shadow and light coming out of it. you knocked on the door. "theo, are you in there?" you hear a small "no" in response, followed by a sniffle. "i can't come in cause i don't know if you're... indecent or whatever. please, let me in?" there's a silence after that, one that concerns you a worrying amount, but soon you hear him and get off the floor and open the door. you expect him to let you in, but as soon as your in his sights, he throws his arms around your neck. he's an abysmal mess, his hair tusseled (more than usual), his eyes red and puffy. you can feel the shoulder of your shirt become stained with your tears. at first, it's the shock that causes you to sit in there before wrapping your arms around him and rubbing his shoulders comfortingly. "what's wrong?" at his silence, you tell him to take his time and lead him over to the bed, sitting him down and hugging his side. you sit there for a long time before he explains to you that today was the day his mother died. you never knew he didn't have a mother, let alone that she was dead. "god i'm so sorry, really theo . . . i didn't know." so the two of you sit there for a good long while, his face buried in the crook of your neck while you rub his shoulders, not caring for the burning pain growing in your fingers. theo needs you right now. and in the end, after who knows how long, he sits up and looks at you. his expression is so odd, you don't know what to think - it honestly makes you nervous trying to understand what he's thinking about. he abruptly blurts out, "will you go out with me." it was more a statement then anything and so unexpected you started to laugh. there he was, his face red and hair messy, staring at you completely serious, awaiting your response . . . "all right."

(i hoped you liked this, i'm sorry if it was terrible 😭😭)

#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ] #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #harry potter #slytherin boys

[carsonian]

Cap-IM Rec Week: Take A Chance on Me Sunday

This is the last one I'll be doing for Cap-IM Rec Week, and I gotta say, I'm all rec'd out. You could say: I'm w(rec)ked. You could also say: shut the F up, that wasn't funny. Free speech! We're trying to make it a thing.

A massive thank you to the @cap-ironman team for creating the platform for such an awesome event! It's been incredible to celebrate old fic, discover new fic, and feast on the fanart and podfics that don't get nearly enough cred in the fandom. A billion thank yous to them for all their hard work behind the scenes!

Now onto the fic recs, one last time:

"Disney World!" by Captain_Panda

To celebrate Tony’s 48th birthday, Steve and the gang go to the most magical place on Earth: Disney World!

I started reading this series with very ambivalent feelings about Disney World and by the end of this series I would have lain down by own life for ol' Mick the veteran Slick.

"Even Though We Know Love's Landscape" by lazywriter7 (@lazywriter7)

But at the core, he’s the same brand of poor little rich guy that dot the shadowed corners of every charity gala, every award function. Sure, maybe it comes in a ‘genius billionaire playboy philanthropist’ package…but his mettle is common iron. A drop of sea water, a dash of air, and he’d rust right through. She, on the other hand, is made of better stuff. In which Tony compares people to weird things, Steph recites poetry and two dorks fall in love.

I usually don't go in for genderbender shenanigans but I remember coming across this and being like I know that if anyone can make me get into this, it'll be this writer. And fuck me! I was right. This is absolute motherfucking nuts! Wholly earnest character study with the sweetest relationship building. I want to bury myself in this fic like an ostrich buries itself in sand.

"How to Treat An Outcast First-Class" by deervsheadlights (@deervsheadlights)

[...] "You want to the front. You want the engine. And I just so happen to be your only chance of getting there.” Steve’s going to admit, the guy’s got spunk for a naked, first-class omega in ten wagons full of angry alphas who’d give a not-so-figurative limb to get a go at him.

I watched Snowpiercer once and was O.O after so I definitely never expected to find or read fic set in its universe. But holy shit is this written well and holy shit did I have a blastin' good time.

Maybe I don't take enough chances. . .

& for the last time--go forth: SteveTony lovers, fuckers, ambassadors, champions, perverts, freaks, losers, dreamers, legends! Read, re-read, kudo, comment, spread legs and spread love.

#capimrecweek #take a chance on me sunday #stevetony fic recs #stevetony #fic recs

[dougtheintern]

extracurriculars/electives that i think the teens would do

SCARY

- art 2. she likes using a bunch of the medias but she hates the prompts given. usually at a B because she finds loopholes in the requirements

-she absolutely does creative writing

-DEBATE AND FORENSICS. she does poetry and DI for forensics and is a 2N and a 1A for debate

-helps with set crew for drama club

TAYLOR

-graphic design. he just seems like the kid that would take graphic design (AKA he seems like me)

-anime club, founded by him. the entire soccer team is on it because they love taylor

-is in drama club but doesn’t do any productions. he only suggests that they do play/musical adaptations of anime. he wont audition until they do

-choir but only because he can pay 0 attention and draw during it

-some sort of 2d art or animation class. not only does he want to voice act, he wants to make anime.

LINC

-soccer because. its soccer.

-taylor’s anime club (hes VP due to nepotism. cruel world)

-not really an extracurricular or elective but he volunteers at the animal shelter so he can pet the cats and dogs. marco is allergic to cats so they cant get them

-bro probably is gonna take PE all 4 years despite it not being required.

-and conditioning.. and like weight lifting.. personal fitness.. just literally everything he can to stay in perfect shape for soccer

-home ec :3. he likes cooking the best

NORM

-how do i describe this. he takes like. wildly different classes because he loves the school so much that by taking those classes .. he gets to walk super far across the school to get to them. more opportunities to say hi to his buddies!

-probably does forensics too, HI, prose, and IX

-is.. technically a cheerleader? hes on the squad and he shows up to practice but no one knows how he got on.

-graphic design because taylors taking it and he thinks thats neat

-also choir but he puts in a lot of effort. when he sings his voice drops down to a bass and its just absolutely gorgeous.

HERMIE

-of course hes a drama club member— but hes one of the officers of the drama club. like leader. he manages the costume shop, helps with set crew, usually is on stage, helps with quick changes— everything.

-also a forensics kid. he does congress, info, and impromptu

-business essentials and sstuff. idk economic stuffs and things

-can you tell im not the biggest hermie fan . idk !!!

-choir. hes like super good. pinkie promise he sounds good when he sings i proooomise

#big fan of mundane headcanons #so heres their electives or whatever #btw forensics is basically competitive acting. #dungeons and daddies #dndads #dungeons and dads #scary marlowe #taylor swift dndads #scary marlowe dndads #lincoln li wilson #lincoln lee wilson #normally oak #normally oak swallows garcia #normal oak #normal oak swallows garcia #hermie unworthy #herman unworthy

[bisexuallsokka]

If you're still in your mood -- “I thought you said no more dangerous stunts?” or “Poetry isn’t supposed to be good, it’s supposed to make you feel things!” from the prompt list for Zukka please?

83. “Poetry isn’t supposed to be good, it’s supposed to make you feel things!”

Zuko isn’t sure if Sokka is always like this, or if he just enjoys irritating Zuko in particular, but sometimes the things he says in the one class they have together make Zuko infuriated. Zuko had met him once or twice, Aang had been convinced they would immediately become best friends, but they must have not talked for very long if Zuko didn’t know Sokka was the kind of guy to be taking a 300 level literature course. Nevertheless, he saw a familiar face and decided to take the seat right next to his.

Worst mistake ever, Zuko thinks as the back of his thighs run into something behind him, and then he stops thinking for a moment when strong hands on his hips lift him up to sit on the desk.

It took a few lectures for him to get on Zuko’s nerves, then at that point, Zuko didn’t dare move and break the sacred system that is unassigned assigned seats. No, he’s stuck with Sokka’s commentary both under his breath and the things he chooses to share with the class. It’s maddening.

Because Sokka makes some really good points.

(Not that he’ll ever admit it.)

(His mouth is a bit occupied anyway.)

Zuko tries to keep an open mind with everything they discuss in that class, but then they got to talking about Imagism, and Zuko absolutely refused to consider the side of someone as strongly opinionated against Ezra Pound and H.D. as Sokka is.

“Poetry isn’t supposed to be good, it’s supposed to make you feel things!” Sokka had insisted during the class discussion, and then proceeded to quote Amy Lowell to Zuko in front of the whole class.

Zuko grabs a fistful of Sokka’s hair and tugs. Amy fucking Lowell.

The professor had cut them off before things could escalate, but Sokka had insisted on walking with Zuko after class to continue the debate, and then they were in the library and Zuko hissed at him to shut up and Sokka had said something like “make me” so Zuko had dragged him to one of the many alcoves in the basement where he had caught far too many couples during his time as a library aide last year and…well, now they’ve stopped arguing and Sokka’s hand is under Zuko’s shirt and how can he even breathe…

Zuko pulls away to gasp for air and Sokka immediately takes this as an opportunity to trail kisses down to Zuko’s neck. Zuko lets out an embarrassingly loud gasp and when Sokka doesn’t move, waiting for Zuko’s reaction, Zuko just tightens his hold in Sokka’s hair and that’s all the invitation he needs before Sokka is biting down, and shit, Zuko is going to have to find a way to cover that before—

“Shit,” Zuko says, eyes trained on the clock on the wall and trying to calculate how late he is going to be because the alternative is focusing on the movement of Sokka’s tongue over the brand-new hickey on his neck and that way madness lies. “Sokka, I’m…I’m going to be late for work.”

“If you’re already late, no point in showing up at all,” Sokka reasons, his voice low and his breath hot against the spot below Zuko’s ear and damn it, Zuko shivers. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

Zuko closes his eyes because fuck, if he thought Sokka running his mouth was going to be the death of him before, it’s nothing compared to the way it’s making him feel now. But no, he has to be strong, because this job is almost certainly going to help him get an internship, but not if he starts ditching it in favor of making out with infuriating classmates in the library basement like some freshman – god, that’s probably the worst thing about this entire situation.

Sokka seems to be under the impression that Zuko is trying to make up his mind and he needs help being convinced to miss work, because he is using his hands and his mouth to try and persuade him but fuck, Zuko needs to be strong, plus he can’t let Sokka win…

It takes every ounce of willpower to put his hands on Sokka’s chest and push him away, and then Sokka is giving him a look and Zuko has to roll his eyes to give him an excuse to break the eye contact, and they’re both catching their breath. Zuko is about to break the silence, but then Sokka is reaching for the pen in the pocket of his flannel, and Zuko watches as he uncaps it and starts to write on Zuko’s palm.

“There,” Sokka says, grinning at the number now scribbled on Zuko’s skin. “Now you can send me those poems you were talking about.”

Zuko blinks at him for a moment, then against his will his hand is reaching out to grab the front of Sokka’s shirt and pull him back in, Sokka smiling against his lips.

#in case u couldnt tell i have many thoughts on Imagism and i go back and forth on how i feel about it so i let them each take a side lmao #zuko is more interested in the technical aspects of poetry and as u can see sokka is more. hes all about the emotions of poetry #anyway i could go on and on about this but i digress. just trust me. #i also did NOT think this was going to go this way lmaooo #zukka #my writing #prompts #erisenyo #ask me stuff

[georgieluz]

Hello I would LOVE to hear anything abt your BoB OCs if you're happy sharing them!

hello!! yes i'm more than happy to share them!! also sorry that i'm replying to this so late! i got sick like a day after i got this ask but i'm finally back and can talk about them a bit! i decided to attach some pre-war moodboards i made a while back of them as well, so i'll put everything under a read more in case it's too long

first up, we have: oliver hardwick

wealthy new yorker with your classic parental issues. likes to think of himself as fearlessly rebellious, especially regarding his sexuality and refusal to conform to the expectations of someone of his "class". however, his parents have connections spread wide across the city, which they use to dampen, and cover up, any of his attempts to shame their family. naturally, this frustrates him even more and he spends every second of his time trying to disappoint them. but they never let the mask slip, never let him win. it's cruel really. he knows they hate what he is, and they make sure he knows, but they never let on in public. they never make it obvious. they never let him win. he's been stuck in a perpetual loop of failure, both his intentional attempts and his inability to make his parents care, his entire life and it's made him resentful of control and irrationally short-tempered when anyone attempts to perceive him or claim to know him.

before the war, he was studying literature and latin at university, and most likely to be found in a nearby bar or the bed of an older man. when the war comes around, he doesn't want to give his parents the satisfaction of becoming an officer, knowing they would consider any rank or military achievement he gained a win in their war of conformity and respectability, and that they would continuously use it to shape the perception of who he is. so, instead, he chooses to enlist as a regular soldier. his parents have other ideas in mind though, and through their military connections, they ensure that he's placed in officer school, with no choice or input in the matter.

eventually he finds himself chosen as an intelligence officer, working under lewis nixon in easy company. having every decision about his position chosen for, and dictated to, him leaves oliver with a bitterness and anger about being controlled, leading to a huge disdain toward taking orders. emotionally unstable, provocative, and with absolutely no consideration for his own safety or life, nixon may have met his match for messiest officer in the company.

(he's basically my hot mess of an oc who i'm gonna hurt so bad)

next up, we have: tommy monet

also a new yorker! (EDIT: he's now from boston, sorry) from the other side of the tracks entirely. this boy is all hardshell exterior and repression and no one can hurt me if they can't get near me so i will build this wall so strong not a single person can break through. his childhood was complicated to say the least (if you'd like to hear more about that then i can talk more about that later since it's a bit long for an introduction post) and he blames himself for the state his family is in now. he has a little sister who he would kill for, she's the only person he trusts, but he also feels he has failed in his mission to protect her. he is remarkably good at making friends with the neighbourhood cats, which their owners despise, but his favourite is his own, his best friend, named badger.

he fell in love with books and poetry as a teenager, but refuses to admit it to anyone. not because he wants to act cool, but because he's scared that if he pursues that interest, or anything academic, he would fail. he refuses to look his insecurities in the eye and pushes them down, along with the trauma of his past, until they're nice and buried down deep. he didn't exactly fall in with the wrong crowd after high school, bc he was already there growing up as one of them. he and his friends are generally seen as troublemakers and nuisances, but outside of getting into fights and breaking into a few factories and warehouses, they don't actually do much wrong.

he ends up in easy company, and when he meets liebgott during training, they get along well enough, but when things start to get stressful, they start to rub each other up the wrong way. they're both scrappy and aren't afraid of a fight, and they both have anger inside of them. tommy's anger is toward himself, but he tells himself it's anger towards his father. even though they find themselves in each other's face sometimes, they recognise that anger in each other. it bonds them together like glue and they understand something unspeakable about the other. tommy's never had anyone who truly sees him before, someone who makes him feel like a real person, not just a passing breeze, because sometimes, he doesn't really believe he's anything more than an empty shell of a body. and slowly, just maybe, they start to open up to each other more.

(tommy is my repressed broken boy who i'm GONNA FIX I SWEAR I'M GONNA FIX HIM GUYS HONEST)

if you wanna know anything more about them feel free to ask, i'd love to talk about them more! maybe i'll do one of those oc ask games or something! i also have a few platonic band of brothers ocs (male, female and nonbinary) from my formula one au who i absolutely adore!! so if you'd like me to introduce them as well then i'd love to bc honestly they're like my besties at this point

#if i break one boy i fix another #my debt is paid #i am net zero on broken boys #julian's inbox #julian writes #tbh the moodboards i made on my desktop computer are so much nicer than these ones but i cbf to switch from my laptop #oc: oliver hardwick #oc: tommy monet

[hedgewitchgarden]

Whole Wheat Irish Soda Bread

Posted on January 15, 2014 by My Kitchen Wand

Can you believe we are half way through January already!?!? The time is flying for me and it is a good reminder that reaching my goals means staying on track. Imbolc will be here before you know it.

Imbolc happens at the same time as Candlemas and they have many connections as traditions from one are layered over the other. In the Celtic calendar it is considered the beginning of spring, a time when the ground is first awakened. The Goddess of the spring in Celtic traditions is Brigid. She is associated also with fire, arts and crafts, as well as livestock such as dairy cows and poetry.

A common custom of farmers was to take a loaf of bread, mix it with milk and sacred water before laying the mixture in the first plowed furrow. St Brigid, whose feast day happens at the same time was honoured with a loaf of bread left on a windowsill, like milk and cookies for St Nicholas.

This is a very traditional, hearty loaf that goes great with cheese, soups, or steaming from the oven with a little butter and jam. My understanding is that a softer variety of wheat was grown in Ireland and consequently baking soda was a better option than yeast for making breads rise. Additionally, whereas over time, England moved towards the concept of bakeries and bread making “in house” lessened, Irish housewives kept the tradition of daily bread for much much longer and soda bread was the bread of choice.

A 100% traditional loaf would be only whole wheat. White, all purpose flour is a relatively new invention and once it arrived, it was seen predominantly on the tables of feudal lords. This recipe is a 50/50 blend, not as heavy as days gone by and still full of flavour.

Buttermilk is the preferred liquid in soda bread. The acids in the buttermilk work with the baking soda to create bubbles and help the bread to rise. This makes absolute sense as buttermilk is the liquid left over from churning milk and all good farms used everything available for something. It is called buttermilk not because it is made from butter but because it is the liquid remaining once the butter has been made. Commercially made “cultured” buttermilk, which is what most of us have access to today has added Lactococcus lactis culture to turn regular milk into buttermilk.

You will need:

2 cups whole wheat flour

2 cups all purpose flour

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. baking soda

2 1/4 cups buttermilk

Deep Breath…..”In my kitchen filled with care, I welcome, Water, Fire, Earth, Air“. Let’s begin.

Soda bread would have been baked in a bastible ( think cauldron) over an open fire hearth. Bastibles come with an indented lid so that the cook could put coals on the lid allowing for heat to come from both directions to bake the bread. I will assume you will be using your oven.

Grease and flour your pan. I would suggest only the area the loaf will sit on as this is going into a 450 degree oven and the excess flour will burn. ( Turn oven on to 450 degrees ).

Mix all the dry ingredients together. Darina Allen from Ballymaloe Cookery School in Ireland, says do this with your hands, allowing the flour to drizzle through your fingers ( a women after my own heart ). She says it will incorporate more air into the mixture, making the finished product lighter.  

My reference comes from my training days when the kitchen instructor would shout at the class, “God gave you hands before he gave you utensils, USE THEM!” Probably not what you would hear in the classroom today.

Make a well and add the buttermilk.

Your intention is to work gently and quickly. Overworking will make your bread tough and it will not rise as well.

Old recipes will say use your hand and mix the ingredients together by opening your hand and holding the fingers stiff. Keeping one hand clean will make life easier.

If you would prefer a spoon, start in the center and stir outwards to the edge of the bowl.

Once mixed a little more than the picture shows, turn the dough out onto a floured surface and gently shape it into a ball.

It will be soft.

Press down to about two inches and cut a cross in the top of the loaf. Cutting the cross will allow the bread to rise even more. You will also recognize the symbol the loaf makes as the wheel of the year.

I read somewhere that Darine Allen says in her cooking school that cutting the cross “lets the fairies out“. I can’t remember where I read it but I always remember the words when I am making soda bread. It is highly appropriate right now as spring is the season of fairies.  “Garden fairies come at dawn, bless the flowers, then they’re gone“.

And what is Imbolc if not a time to bless the land and the seeds that will keep the community healthy in the coming year?

Bake at 450 degrees for 20 minutes and then reduce the oven to 400 degrees and continue baking for another 25-30 minutes. The bread will be done when it sounds hollow when knocking on the underside. Allow to cool.

Now, Spotted Dog. All countries cuisines have their unique names and this is one of them. If you add raisins (say 3/4 cup but it is up to you) to soda bread it becomes Spotted Dog. Usually, a couple of teaspoons of sugar are added as wellas you are making a sweet bread.

Additionally, if you had eggs on the farm, one might be part of the liquid mixture to help with the rising of the bread. When using an egg, it is a good idea to lower the temperature and bake the bread a little longer as eggs assist in the browning of baked products.

Life is returning to the Earth and things are starting to grow again. Whether you make this recipe to place on a windowsill or an altar or beside a bowl of hearty body warming soup; if you add the raisins and gather a group of friends together with butter, jam and a cup of tea; or bake it plain to serve with other tasty bits, I wish you and yours the time and peace to enjoy the customs of Imbolc, in whatever way you choose to honour them.

#recipes #irish soda bread #imbolc #imbolg #spring

[vitaliskravtsov]

HI hello I would like a lil moment of Frog friendship since i guessed all the goalies <3

HI HELLO IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE YOU ARE!!!!!!! FROG FRIENDSHIP, FT RANDOM EARLY MODERN POETRY AND ICE CREAM RUNS AND CUDDLES

under the cut to not clog folks's dashes!

i hope you enjoy!!!

Chowder doesn't make a habit of getting home late, exactly, because he knows that he'll never hear the end of it.

He's making an exception for Dex, because Dex is pretty much always his exception.

They're getting ice cream together at a place about 15 minutes out of town that Dex loves and refuses to admit he loves, Chowder's treat. Superficially, it's because the Bruins beat the Sharks. Practically, it's because Dex's Chem 102 class has been eating his brain alive, and the aggression he hasn't spent on hockey is being poured into fixing every single inch of wiring in the basement of the Haus.

Dex gets some kind of a concoction of a nut mix-in and then a chocolate base with a fruit topping that Chowder doesn't actually understand the flavor profile of, but dutifully dips his spoon into when Dex offers. It actually tastes pretty good even if Chowder can't get why it does. He offers his in kind to Dex, who takes a taste and promptly declares that it's okay, but his is better.

They get a basket of cheese fries, too, because stopping a 'grocery run' to get ice cream means that, actually, they should've probably gotten groceries anyway, even if it was a made up excuse to get ice cream without being subject to Jack's interrogation. Cheese fries is probably a fine dinner, after the day Dex has had.

On the way out, Dex stops and orders a bright pink monstrosity with rainbow sprinkles and Twix on top of it, all in a cup with a lid.

"Nursey," he mumbles at Chowder's questioning look.

"That's-"

"I know," Dex sighs.

They make it back to the Haus mostly on time, and Chowder breathes a sigh of relief. No 'sleep payback' shots tomorrow at practice.

Slowly, Dex trudges up the stairs to his and Nursey's room, and Chowder follows. Dex knocks gently, and then pushes the door open.

Nursey is laying on the floor, mostly hidden under a quilt.

"I've got ice cream," Dex says, "but you can't have it under that quilt because you'll get it dirty."

"You're a dream," Nursey slurs. "Yet I thought thee an angel..."

"Donne?" posits Chowder.

"Mhm," Nursey says. "Does it have the Chiclets in it?"

"Eat your poison dessert," Dex tells him, which is as good as a yes.

"Not poison," Nursey mumbles back, but springs up from the floor a second later. He takes the proffered spoon and bowl, and bites in. "I love you, Dexy."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Dex and Chowder chime.

"Et tu, Chris?"

"Early modern that bad?"

"I'd rather be in chem."

"No," Dex says, "you wouldn't."

"You can cheat in chem," Nursey answers, and Chowder can see the moment that Dex goes absolutely incandescent.

Chowder also sees the moment he takes a deep breath.

"Do your own damn work, Nurse."

Nursey hums non-committally, and then dives back into his ice cream.

"Chowder," he announces suddenly through a mouthful of Chiclets. "Stay. We have a shark."

"Sure," Chowder tells him, watching Dex fold himself onto his bed in a kind of pretzel shape, tucked in beside the chem book.

"Cuddle pile," Nursey adds, and Chowder nods. Cuddle piles are exactly what he expected, and kind of what he needs tonight, too.

Dex presses a shark-shaped plushie to Chowder's chest and forcibly folds his arms around it while holding his book open with his leg pressed against the pages. Nursey sets his empty ice cream cup (Chowder tries not to think about how much sugar that was in such a short time) and hauls Chowder into his side.

"Ditch the book, Dexy-Sexy," Nursey mumbles around Chowder's shoulder. "Cuddle."

"Fuck you," Dex says. "That doesn't even work."

A second later, the book snaps closed and his arms come up around Chowder's shoulders, sandwiching Chowder between Nursey's chest and Dex's.

"Frogpile," Chowder says after a moment, and he feels more than hears the laughter of his best friends.

"Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss," Nursey whispers into Chowder's ear, air brushing right over the shell of it. He tucks his face into Chowder's neck, lips pressed soft against Chowder's skin, nothing to it more than Nursey's need to hold and be held.

"Marlowe?" Dex prompts from Chowder's other side, but Nursey is breathing like he does as he's just fallen into the edge of sleep, where nothing but yelling and chaos will wake him because Nursey sleeps like a log.

"Nah," Chowder answers. "Lavoisier, for sure."

"Shut up, man," Dex says, jostling Chowder's shoulder gently.

"Love you too."

"Mhm."

Dex starts drawing slow patterns on Chowder's arm, hexagon on hexagon, tied together with single and double and triple lines, and it lulls Chowder into something shallowly between 'sleepy' and 'just super relaxed'. He lets himself fall into it, floating off into sleep to the sound of Nursey's snuffles and the feeling of Dex's study formulae.

Dex falls asleep last, watching the last of the tension drain out of Chowder's arms, wrapped around the hammerhead plushie he'd sewn last week. He matches Nursey's breathing, rests his chin on Chowder's head, lets his best friends take his weight, rests what he's been holding alone on them, lets down some of the load, and sleeps.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #*mine #dex #chowder #nursey #derek nurse #william poindexter #chris chow #frogs

[pollyna]

On this queer house (and I'm sorry for the running comments? annnd it got shippy lol):

Class '86:

Wolfman: gay but when the kids start using the moronsexual name he starts to identify with that because he married Hollywood, didn't he?

Hollywood: gay and he would like to say to his husband that he's the moron, not him, get it?

Sundown: bi

Chipper: bi

Slider: bi even if thought he was straight for the longest of times (did know u were that old, Ronnie)

Iceman: gay/homosexual/gay (the day he comes out to Ron he would liked to answer: and during summer the sand is hot. Something other earth breaking truth I should made aware of?)

Goose: queer (he serenades them and leaves them with a broken heart, and then Carole comes around and his brain fries once and for all)

Maverick: the bi king

Cougar: he's probably gay but he's repressed af so he says he's the most heterosexual person on this and other planets (I read too many past!cougar/iceman where he breaks iceman's heart to not be of part)

Merlin: not enough informations on him but after surviving being Mav's backset he will probably reconsider half of his life

Jester & Viper: they're tired dads™️ nothing else is required by them, that's says more than anything else.

People around the '86 class:

Carole: bi

Charlie: bi? (me🤝charlie: questioning her sexuality)

Class '22(?):

Rooster: bi (the tale wants that Bradley realised he was bi while putting milk in his cereal, at the tender age of 13, obtaining to spill milk everywhere and on his uncle Tom's uniform too)

Hangman: gay (the day he did coming out with Javy he presented himself drapped in rainbow flag because he had to make an entrance. He was fifteen and Javy was still asleep. The cuddle a lot after because Javy was still sleeping Seresin.)

Coyote: he's the tired bisexual of the group for the love of god someone should give this man a break

Phoenix: greyro bisexual (she is the dangerous thing Halo sleeps with. Who needs a knife or a gun when she is there)

Bob: aroace (his&Phe queerplatonic relationship is life. Apparently in this language is known as the ay-ay spectrum bc you can't pronounce the a someone should give bob the maracas to play as introduction when they ask him his sexuality)

Halo: aro lesbian (Phe says she kisses her in the softest and more determined way someone has ever kissed her)

Omaha: biromantic asexual (flying as backset with Halo give him time to talk about shit he isn't really comfortable talking with everybody around)

Payback: gay (when he was five he asked his mom if he could fall in love with a plane because they were absolutely the best thing ever. Now he thinks the same everytime he looks at Mickey)

Fanboy: pan (his granma ironed the the flag for his first pride because don't you dare going around with that thing all wrinkled)

Harvard: greysexual homoromantic (his bio on Instagram says, Harvard graduate, medical doctor, Naval aviator, my other half snors)

Yale: gay (he's a big fan of ds9 and most of his photos have a quote of the tvshow expect from when he postes about Harvard, than is poetry. It's nauseating, the entire squad hates and loves it.)

Fritz: raging bi with a little application for older people that everybody in the NAVY knows about (see his crush on Admiral Kazansky)

People around the '22 class:

Cyclone: he's bi but he won't let anyone knows because he's not weak

Hondo: pan (his wife made him a patch that he wears for all June and it has the dagger squad insigna in but it isn't in black and white but in blue, pink and yellow)

Warlock: queer (he says the term fits quiet well with him and honest to God Navy is already hard enough without him having to question his own label. His cat is the most affectionate creature this planet has ever saw and sometimes he takes her to work because it's a good antistress and leaves Cyclone and his problems out of his door)

Penny: bi™️ (she meets Charlie, at someone point along the line, and they have a sort of rebound night because of Maverick but it stops being about Maverick 0.01 second after they kiss.)

#everybody's queer in this house don't fight me #but we can talk about it and discuss them for sure #the 86' class #the 20(22?)' class #the people around them too #lgbtqia+ characters #hope i haven't forgot anyone 🌈 #i'm not going to tag everyone or the shippy part it would take me a lifetime #but i'm going to say this: warlock is the tuvok of tpg:mav #top gun(1986) #top gun: maverick

[notasapleasure]

a meme!

Thanks for tagging me, @grimm-lynn :)

1. Are you named after anyone?

I think the intention was to name me after my dad's mum (who died when he was very little), but to spell it in a more modern way. Inadvertantly, it's also a portmanteau of my parents' first names.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I was very sick and very tired and very frustrated when the removal guys broke it to me midway through emptying the house that they absolutely couldn't take any of my garden plants over the Irish Sea because of fucking BREXIT. I was also very angry with my husband, who was meant to have checked this. In the end, we managed to palm the plants off on friends and family and we'll try to bring them over later, once we've looked at the paperwork involved.

3. Do you have kids?

No!! I have known for a very long time that I never wanted them and do not have even an iota of maternal interest let along instinct.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

It has its uses.

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

My weekend hobbies as a kid were horse-riding and karate, and I played field hockey at school, did long jump and 200m sprint. But then, y’know. Everyone else got taller and I didn’t really. I dabbled in rowing at uni, because it was kind of expected that you'd try it, but my late-night carousing rather interfered with the early mornings. Also, as mentioned, I am short. Since then I haven't really done anything regularly except about a year where I got into weights. I'd like to get back into picking up heavy things and putting them down again, but I resent the cost of gyms and I need to have a structured class where someone tells me what to do, I don't have the willpower or imagination for solo training.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Hm, it's tough to describe (my mum would say 'their energy') but like...whether they're engaging with me, like really with me and curious about what we're talking about, or if there's that feeling that you're on the clock to prove you're interesting or whatever before they get bored.

7. What’s your eye colour?

Blue

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Weird things to compare?? But uh. Happy endings probably? Not in my scary movies though. I like scary movies with bittersweet endings. Though the more I think about this choice the more confused I get.

9. Any special talents?

I'm so bad at answering these things, my mind just goes blank and I'm like 'oh pffff I don't do anything special, there's always going to be someone who's better than I am'. Assigned Jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none. There are lots of things I like to do and I try to do them well. I guess I will say that you probably want me around in a stressful situation - I'm calm and I love coming up with solutions to things.

10. Where were you born?

In a county hospital in a large and rural county of England.

11. What are your hobbies?

Ok, well. Writing, obvs. Fic and poetry now and again. There's an original idea that's been rattling round my head for a few years that I keep saying *this* NaNoWriMo I'll do it! And then don't. Art used to be much higher up the list but I'm so rusty. I haven't painted in years (...has it been over a decade?). Gardening (I miss my garden so much SO MUCH rn). Baking and cooking. I go through phases of manic knitting interspersed with a little crochet, but I want to improve my sewing - I have my granny-in-law's sewing machine I need to learn how to use. If we get this amazing house we’re looking at I’m going to have to get good at DIY, too.

12. Do you have any pets?

Two greyhounds and six (yes. six.) ferrets.

13. How tall are you?

5'1"

14. Favorite subject in school?

Art and English lit.

15. Dream job?

Not to be all 'I don't dream of labour' but I for sure don't dream of working for other people/companies. As you can see from the hobbies section, I like to DO stuff and be busy, but I like to work on my own terms and I like project work. So my freelance editing and proofing stuff suits me fairly well right now, though I dream more of a UBI that would let me do more with my time that wasn't just about earning, but could encompass more volunteering and community stuff. Being on furlough during lockdown suited me so well - I did so much and recovered so much energy that I was much more willing to engage with strangers as well as friends through video chat etc.

Tag fifteen mutuals - FIFTEEN?! huh ok, I’m tagging y’all but no obligation, right? And Idk who’s already been tagged, sorry if you’ve done this already and I didn’t see! @stripedroseandsketchpads @notfromcold @erinaceina @bellaroles @batri-jopa @donnaimmaculata @notabuddhist @kheldara @blxcksqvadron @boogerwookiesugarcookie @elwenyere @thatonelemontreeiforgorabout @jimtheviking @weirdsociology @rapidashmascot

#meme #about me