#apparently there’s a bunch of them but each person gets three

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not texting my friend?

To be clear I have no intention of cutting off this person, I will not block or ghost them, and if they text me I WILL answer and not be dry or lame about it.

I just won't be the one to start any conversations.

Moving on:

The story is super complicated but I'll try to keep it coherent.

Three people in the story (fake names):

Me (20)

Alex (16) - friend

Luck (16) - younger sibling We are all the same gender.

Something to keep in mind about me: I have always been very sheltered, naive and distracted, people have told me so and the more I learn the more I realize how ignorant I am. So I have very little experience, perception and knowledge of worldly things. This makes it difficult for me to keep up with people my age and I spend most of my focus on stories I like to write. It's not an excuse for anything and I'm actively working to be better.

Something that doesn't contribute much to the story but may be nice to know: Pretty much everything happens online, I've only met Alex in person like 4 times for birthday parties and stuff.

Now the story: I met Alex three years ago during covid when I was doing school online (I was 17 and Alex and Luck were 13). I was introduced to Alex through my younger sibling. Luck added me to a group chat with a bunch of their classmates, and I got popular really fast. Alex took a particular liking to me, because they thought i was funny and we had many of the same hobbies. So Alex was the first of Luck's friends to start a chat with me directly. Alex was always online and so was I, so we ended up talking alot, like all the time. I noticed Luck got kind of jealous, and that was when I began to wonder if the friendship was right, but I did nothing about it.

Eventually Alex and I started writing a story together, it's something I try to do with all of my close friends and we got really into it. A big rule that I have is that the real world and fiction are separate, under no circumstances are they to entertwine, especially emotionally (ex. I have never and will never insert myself in a story or daydream, not even if reality sucks for me at that time) Alex was different, they got attached to the characters. So there I am, obsessed with progressing the story's plot, and I kill off one of my characters. Alex expresses discontent, but not much. It's through Luck that I find out later that Alex had been crying about it for days. I felt bad and brought the character back, and life went on.

A year and a half into our friendship and Luck seems to have gotten over her jealousy, while Alex and I spend more time writing and focusing on the story than anything else. There are some signs in the rare times that Alex and I talk about life that it become apparent that Alex is going through a rough time, but I don't think too much about it since the story is all that's on my mind. On top of this there's school and whatever.

One day Alex starts asking for breaks from story writing and plotting, and I agree without a fuss. It gets me thinking a bit more, and after a couple more days during a conversation about the real world Alex sends a long paragraph about how horrible things are. (I won't explain what exactly these horrible things were for privacy reasons) Now I realize how inconsiderate I've been so far and I tell Alex that I'm there to support them in whatever they need. I spend pretty much all of the next year texting them every hour of every day and this is what happens:

At the beginning of our friendship our conversations flowed wonderfully, we shared our achievements and showed genuine interest in each other's lives. But things changed and by this point In the story our conversations go like so:

Me: (asks a question) Alex: (responds) Me: (reacts to response) Alex: (dry response) -Repeat infinitely-

Aside from that we would always say goodnight and Goodmorning to each other.

One time. Only one. Alex texted me asking for help and I didn't see the message until hours later. I never really forgave myself for that.

At this point I'm 19 and Alex is 15, and it suddenly crosses my mind how our friendship might be perceived by others. I considered Alex another younger sibling, but with all the crazy things happening in the world I wondered what others would think. In the end I concluded that Alex needed me and it didn't matter. So life goes on. My entire life revolves around helping Alex, when I'm not texting them I am worrying, my own problems come second. My whole family thinks I'm addicted to my phone. I'm always tired and stressed. The stories were put on pause.

Time passes and soon I'm turning twenty. I'm starting to think I can't do it anymore, our friendship has turned kind of codependent (I didn't even know what that was until a month ago). I consider ghosting many times, changing my number, blocking, but only for a couple minutes at a time and I always hate myself for thinking it afterwards. I keep talking to Alex, but sometimes I'll answer a bit slower. Let them wait 3-5 minutes instead of 1-2, if I really steel myself I can hold back for 7 minutes.

One day without warning Alex doesn't text me at all. They've dissapeared before but never without sending a quick message to let me know about it, not until this day. Their status also worries me, only one word: "gone". There I am internally freaking out, losing it, trying to come up with reasons for which everything is fine. I don't ask Luck if they know anything because I know they'll get annoyed. It's not until late the next day that Alex lets me know they went a roadtrip. I tell them "I was worried lol" and immediately they ask why. I wasn't expecting an apology but the question struck me as weird, so I was reluctant to answer. Alex pushes for an answer, they haven't been this interested in what I've had to say for years. I with horror I realize that they liked that i was worried, they wanted to milk it as much as they could. I understand that people need validation, but I was already constantly complementing Alex and telling them how important they were. The fact that they preferred my panic (though in Alex's defense I never told them I was panicking) hit me hard. I didn't elaborate on why I was worried. Alex got upset. And i spent the next hour sobbing over my phone, realizing i needed some distance.

I started slow. I wouldn't say goodnight somedays, others I would forgo a Goodmorning, but I always answered (I swore to myself never to leave Alex on read). I went on a trip and I decided I would enjoy it for once, so I let Alex know i couldn't text much. Nevertheless this lack of contact didn't keep me from worrying and wondering endlessly.

After the trip we kept texting less, we expressed missing each other but neither of us did too much to keep things going. I tried to focus on my in-person relationships, and friendships with people my age. I went back to stories and published a novella.

Nowadays Alex and I talk maybe once every week and a half. The conversations are excruciating. Alex tells me how things still suck, my usual words of comfort seem to mean nothing to either of us anymore. Alex leaves me on read as soon as the conversation goes dry, usually after ten minutes worth of conversation, sometimes over the span of many hours. We don't talk again until I cave in and say hello. Then a couple days later Alex says hello. And then it's up to me again, and every time I tell myself I won't do it.

Luck has told me their opinion of Alex, they saw way before I did how self-centered Alex is. The thing is Alex doesn't do it on purpose, I am entirely sure of that and so is Luck. Luck treats Alex nicely but they're out of touch, more than I am. I am not mad at Alex. I still care deeply for them, but I feel like there's nothing I can do andour old dynamic just hurts both of us. Cutting them off is not an option, they're just a kid and I'm better than that. So I just don't start a conversation.

A couple days ago Alex texted me (even though it was my unspoken turn to text first) and we talked, and the conversation wasn't dry at all, and it wasn't that painful to deal with. They showed interest in my life and shared some sad stuff but also happy stuff about theirs, and it felt like old times. We texted the entire day. At one point the they mentioned that I could text them whenever I wanted, and I felt an underlying petition that I do. The conversation went on and eventually they left me on read the next morning when I answered a message from the night before.

Ever since then I've been actively holding back from texting them but I can't help but wonder if I'm a jerk for it.

These aren't even all the factors but this post has gotten too long lol.

So AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

[acaciapines]

NEW UTDR NEWSLETTER

#chatter #deltarune #undertale #LOOK AT RALSEI LITERALLY. OBSESSED #apparently there’s a bunch of them but each person gets three #DO U THINK SUSIES IS TO RALSEI…….. #ralsusie ship that means so much to me. I love them #and then who could forget. spamton v spamton #every day I think I have escaped the utdr obsession and NOPE #I’m a proud truck freak won’t ever stop

[lestappenforever]

Lestappen fic - Ice cream shop owner!Charles AU

I don't typically get excited by AU ideas for Lestappen because Lestappen in canonverse is so appealing to me in and of itself. But, while AO3 was down yesterday, @thearchercore received and answered a whole bunch of asks from lovely anons about a Lestappen AU fic where Charles owns an ice cream shop (as inspired by the news that the man is actually going to open an ice cream shop in Milan.) And, well, for the first time ever, I got excited about a Lestappen AU. So, I wrote something.

This is, obviously, dedicated to the incredible @thearchercore, a true pillar of the Lestappen community, and to each and every anon who has sent in asks about this AU. And because this was entirely inspired by people on Tumblr, you can read the whole fic in this post. ❤️

---

Max realizes that he has probably let this whole thing go too far. Way too far. 

What had started as a chance encounter after the Monza Grand Prix, where Max had gone on a drive and ended up in a small, lovely ice cream shop - LEC - in Milan that served the most delicious vanilla ice cream Max had ever tasted, had spiraled and developed into what was now practically a weekly occurrence. Every chance he got, when the race calendar, his PR and training schedule would allow it, Max would fly to Milan, spending ridiculous amounts of money and contributing an unnecessary amount to further pollute the environment, just to go back to that ice cream shop.

And yes, although the vanilla ice cream was divine, that's not the real reason Max kept coming back. 

No, the real cause of his travels was the ridiculously beautiful shop owner, with the fluffy brown hair, the captivating green eyes Max kind of wanted to drown himself in, and dimples that Max saw every single night when he closed his eyes. And what’s more, the shop owner — Charles — didn't even seem to like Max, because the Monégasque was a die-hard Ferrari fan and he seemed to have made it his personal mission to put all the blame of Ferrari’s lack of success for the past fifteen years on Max. Even if Max hadn’t been in F1 for the entirety of those fifteen years.

Not that he was surprised, really. The passion of the Tifosi did, on more than one occasion, seem to seriously impact their sense of logic and capability of rational thinking. 

And apparently, the beauty, sass and stubbornness of the shop owner did the exact same thing to Max's. 

The irony of that is not lost on him.

The fact that the two of them had discovered they were on the same page about the superior ice cream flavor the first time Max had been in that ice cream shop — “vanilla is my favorite” Max had said at exactly the same time Charles had said “vanilla is the only right choice” — had not been enough to endear him to Charles. His allegiance with Ferrari and Max currently on yet another dominating winning spree with Red Bull was too strong. (Even if there had been the flicker of something in those green eyes when Charles had learned that he and Max were on the same page about vanilla ice cream.)

After yet another failed attempt at charming Charles a few weeks ago, Max had gotten so desperate that he had genuinely started considering a move to Ferrari, even starting to subtly ask around about the possibility, Red Bull’s superior car and strategies be damned. But then word had reached GP and his race engineer had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would not be moving to Ferrari to impress ‘some ice cream guy in Milan’. Which Max had taken offense to, because Charles was not just ‘some ice cream guy in Milan’, thank you very much.

(Max really had to learn how to keep his mouth shut around GP.)

So yes, his obsession with the ice cream shop and its owner has gone way too far. And yet, on a warm August afternoon, Max finds himself walking back into that ice cream shop. 

Summer break has finally arrived, and Max had genuinely considered renting an apartment in Milan for the next three weeks so he wouldn't have to fly back and forth so much. But then he had come to the conclusion that that would be excessive. 

(Because flying back and forth between Monaco and Milan definitely wasn’t excessive. No, sir.)

Charles is there when Max walks in, as he is every single time Max walks in. The guy never seems to leave his beloved ice cream shop, and Max finds himself wondering if the other man gets enough sleep. Or if he even goes home to sleep, or if he has a bed set up in the back somewhere so he never has to waste time going back and forth between the ice cream shop and his home. 

He may not know Charles all that well, despite seeing him regularly for the past few months, but he does know that the man must have an incredible work ethic. 

The little bell above the door announces his arrival, and Charles looks up from behind the counter. For a brief second, Max is sure he sees a flash of excitement cross those gorgeous features, but the Monégasque quickly schools his expression into one of exasperation and indignation, complete with an overly dramatic eye roll. 

“No Red Bull Racing team members allowed,” Charles tells him with a huff, as he puts a brand-new tub of chocolate ice cream in the display freezer. 

Max snorts as he walks towards the counter. He had expected a frosty — pun intended — reception following Ferrari’s double DNF in the last race before the summer break, so Charles’ grumpy demeanor doesn’t deter him.  

“Hello to you too, Charles,” the Dutchman sing-songs, ignoring the way a couple of teenage girls at a table by the window gape at him. “Let me guess, Ferrari’s double DNF in Belgium was somehow my fault?”

Charles meets his gaze and narrows his eyes. He points an ice cream scoop at him. “I am not sure how, but yes.” He waggles the scoop accusingly. 

It’s Max’s turn to roll his eyes. “Right, because the two of them crashing into each other in turn two, while in P8 and P9 respectively, while I was at the very front definitely had something to do with me?”

“Obviously,” Charles confirms with a sniff. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Max laughs, shaking his head in a manner that can only be described as fond. He comes to a halt in front of the cash register at the counter, and waits for Charles to ask him what he wants. 

But Charles never does; instead busies himself with rearranging the different bowls of topping on top of the display freezer, wiping down the counter, and restocking the ice cream cones, all the while completely ignoring Max’s presence. Or general existence, even.

Eventually, Max runs out of patience.

“I’d like three scoops of vanilla ice cream, please.”

Charles doesn’t even stop what he’s doing. Doesn’t even look at him. “We’re all out of vanilla.”

Max stares. At Charles, then at the almost full tub of vanilla, with its little sign labeling it as vanilla sticking out of the fluffy ice cream. 

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Charles, I can see the vanilla ice cream. It’s right there,” Max insists, pointing at the flavor through the display glass. As if Charles isn’t completely aware of its existence, as if he’s not just being a little shit and punishing Max for something that isn’t even remotely his fault. 

Charles pauses in his bustling to look at Max. Then, he follows the length of Max’s arm to where his finger is pointing directly at the vanilla. His gaze returns to Max’s eyes as he says, deadpan: “That is only a display ice cream.”

Max blinks repeatedly.

“A display ice cream?” he echoes incredulously. 

“Yes,” Charles confirms, raising his chin. “It’s only for display, it is not to be served.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, it’s like this,” the Monégasque says, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug. 

Max doesn’t know if he wants to smack him or kiss him. 

(That’s a lie, he knows damn well that he wants to kiss that smug look right off of Charles’ stupidly beautiful face.)

“Fine,” the Dutchman sighs, moving his finger slightly to the right. “Then I would like three scoops of the chocolate.”

“I’m sorry, but that is also only a display ice cream,” Charles tells him with a completely straight face. 

“You’re not serious.”

Charles raises one full eyebrow. “Does it look like I’m joking?” he asks.

And, well, Max has to admit that it absolutely does not. 

He stands there in silence for a while, wondering why the hell this infuriating man has been the object of his deepest desires for the past few months. Wonders why Charles’ face is the only thing he sees when he closes his eyes to sleep at night, and why he is the one person that keeps appearing in the majority of his dreams. Wonders why, when his mind wanders as he has a secure grip around himself in bed, it keeps wandering to the mental images of what Charles would look like, feel like, sound like if he was there with Max, when all Charles seems to want to do is get under Max’s skin and infuriate him in ways and for reasons Max hadn’t even known he could let himself be infuriated. 

Oh, who is he kidding? Those reasons, coupled with Charles’ overall appearance and being, are exactly why his mind never seems to tire of Charles whatever-the-fuck-his-middle-name-is Leclerc, and only him. 

Max has always been a sucker for challenges. And Charles is definitely a challenge. 

Had Charles been an F1 driver instead of the owner of an ice cream shop, Max just knows their on-track battles would have been epic. Their rivalry would have been one for the ages; their names and lives so intertwined that people could not have mentioned one without also mentioning the other. Because Max is sure that Charles’ passion, his stubbornness and his outright refusal to give in to anything or anyone would have translated into a fierce, unyielding, unapologetic driver. 

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Max gives a quick shake of his head to clear is racing mind. Then, he fixes Charles with a hard stare. 

“Let me guess, these are all ‘display ice creams’?” he asks, gesturing with a hand at the numerous tubs of flavors in the display freezer. 

“Of course not,” Charles scoffs, as if that’s the most ridiculous statement that has been made in the ice cream shop in the past few minutes. “That would be a horrible way to run a business. We have one flavor that is not only for display.”

Max is almost afraid to ask, but he does anyway. “Which is?”

Charles doesn’t answer the question with words, just points to the bottom tub at the far left. The little sign reads ‘Mint chip’.

“Who the fuck eats mint chip ice cream?” Max asks, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “That’s like eating toothpaste.”

For the first time since Max stepped through the door, Charles smiles. A beautiful, self-satisfied, mischievous smile that does things to Max’s body, mind and soul. It makes his heart rate pick up and his skin tingle with an excitement he has no business feeling. 

Pathetic. He’s absolutely pathetic. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Max. That's all I have to offer today.”

And Max, proving just how completely gone he is on this ridiculous man, lets out a long, tired sigh. 

“Three scoops of mint chip, please,” he requests in a voice that is completely resigned. 

Charles’ face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree, and he scurries to get one of the small glass bowls reserved for customers who want to eat their ice cream in the shop, not even needing to ask if that’s what Max is planning to do, or if he wants his ice cream in a cone. And although Charles is doing his damnedest to make Max believe that his general existence on this earth is causing Charles physical pain and emotional turmoil, the fact that Charles remembers his preference doesn’t go unnoticed by Max. 

He won’t even entertain the idea that Charles might just be adamant on making Max sit in his shop and eat his mint chip ice cream so Charles can watch him suffer with every spoonful. 

Charles is generous with the scoops — incredibly so — and Max is sure those three scoops he requested actually equal the size of at least six regular-sized scoops. He realizes that he probably should have asked for one scoop instead of three. He watches as Charles sticks a spoon in the ice cream and places the bowl on the counter in front of Max with the biggest grin on his face.

“It’s on the house,” Charles tells him, probably just to further add to Max’s suffering. 

The Dutchman eyes the bowl of ice cream warily, quietly cursing it and himself, before picking it up with a hesitating hand. Charles watches him expectantly the entire time as Max makes his way to a small table in one corner of the shop. Behind him, a small child, probably around five or six, had entered the shop with his mother while Max was waiting for Charles to finish scooping, and Max hears the boy ask for two scoops of strawberry ice cream. And Charles — the fucking asshole — makes a point out of saying ‘coming right up’ in both Italian and English just to fuck with Max some more.

Max takes a seat with his back to the window so he can face Charles. Because if nothing else, he’s not going to let Charles win.

The first spoonful really does taste like toothpaste with a hint of chocolate, and it’s an awful combination. It takes every ounce of willpower Max has not to let the disgust he’s feeling show on his face. He lets the ice cream melt in his mouth for a long moment, before swallowing the disgusting liquidized ice cream, all the while maintaining a completely unaffected expression. 

Charles watches him eat the entire bowl of ice cream, and Max never breaks eye contact. With every expressionless swallow, Max can see the thinly veiled disappointment on Charles’ face and the satisfaction he gets from that is enough to motivate him to finish every single bite. He even makes a point out of scraping the melted remains of the ice cream from the sides of the bowl, scooping it up into a mint green coloured soup in his spoon, and eating it. He even briefly considers licking the bowl clean just to get a rise out of Charles, but the Monégasque turns away from him with a huff before he can put his plan into action.

Which, thank fuck, because Max is starting to feel a bit sick from the ridiculous amount of toothpaste-flavored ice cream he has just consumed out of spite and spite alone. He pushes the bowl forward and away from himself on the table with a frown.

Charles goes back to ignoring his presence for the next fifteen minutes, and Max waits. Just because he can — just because he knows this wasn’t the outcome Charles had expected and he wants to revel in the satisfaction of finally getting under Charles’ skin for once for a little while longer. 

Eventually, Charles comes to collect his empty bowl and gives Max a disapproving glare. 

“Well? How was it?”

And Max, unable to resist, gives Charles his biggest, brightest smile. “It was delicious, thank you.”

If looks could kill, Max would have been dead. Then, Charles turns on his heels and walks away with Max’s empty bowl and spoon. 

Taking the win, Max gets to his feet and waits for Charles to look over at him from behind the counter. When he does, he gives the other man a wave. “See you tomorrow, Charles.”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow!” Charles shoots back.

“Oh, but I am,” Max counters. It sounds like a promise, and it is. 

As he walks out of the ice cream shop, feeling Charles’ gaze boring into the back of his head as he does, Max pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts looking up hotels in the area with available rooms.

***

Max stays in Milan for two weeks, and he goes to Charles’ ice cream shop every single day. 

Every day, Charles tells him the only flavor he can serve him is mint chip. By day three, Max has stopped trying to argue with him. By day five, Max orders vanilla and Charles responds with ‘three scoops of mint chip coming up’. And every day, Max sits at his little table by the window to eat his ice cream while Charles stands behind the counter, watching him eat the entire time. 

Every. Single. Day. 

And every single day, Max can see Charles’ resolve crumbling, little by little, convincing him that his tragic efforts are not in complete vain. They might be mostly in vain, but Max is in far too deep at this point to care.

On the eighth day, Max stays until closing and Charles spends the majority of his free moments actually hanging around Max’s table and engaging him in conversation. It's a step in the right direction, even if Charles does end up kicking the Dutchman out when he has to count the register.

And on the eleventh day, as Max is about to leave after finishing yet another disgusting, massive portion of mint chip ice cream, Charles finds himself looking at the blond from behind the counter, watching as Max smiles down at his phone. Those piercing blue eyes are crinkling in delight, causing adorable smile lines to appear at their corners, his full, inviting lips stretching to expose his straight, white teeth. A wave of something — jealousy, Charles would define it as if he wasn’t a pigheaded dick when it comes to four-time F1 World Champion Max Emilian Verstappen — washes over him at the thought of whatever or whoever it is that puts that smile on Max's face. 

It makes the Monégasque realize that all of his attempts over the past few months to convince himself that he doesn’t find Max attractive or charming as hell, and that he definitely doesn’t want to find out whether Max likes vanilla in bed, too, have been for naught. 

And so, with an overwhelming feeling that he's losing a battle he's been fighting for months, Charles throws away the paper towel he had been using to dry his hands and resigns himself to his fate. Because sometimes, perseverence needs to be rewarded.

And he's not just referring to Max's.

“You can take me out to dinner tonight,” he tells Max, and it sounds like the statement pains him. Which it kind of does.

Max stops dead, one hand on the door handle, half-turned to face Charles. The look on his face is one of utter surprise.

“Really?” he asks, and he sounds so fucking hopeful that it should probably make Charles change his mind. But instead, it makes him want to close up the shop immediately and let Max take him out to dinner right fucking now.

Which is pathetic, really. But then again, so is the way Charles has been waking up every day hoping Max Verstappen would walk through the door of his ice cream shop for the past few months.

But, having no intention of showing his hand, Charles maintains a stoic expression as he nods. 

“Pick me up here at nine.”

Max's smile is so wide that Charles wonders if it makes his cheeks hurt. He also wonders if said cheeks will feel as warm to the touch as they look.

“Okay,” Max says, still smiling. “Then I'll see you again at nine.”

And with that, Max turns, pulls the door open, and walks out of the shop. 

When Charles can only just see the back of the Dutchman through the window, he sees Max stopping briefly on the sidewalk and pumping his fist in the air in the same celebratory manner Charles has seen after so many victorious races over the years.

He looks ridiculous, and Charles might just be falling a little bit in love with him.

Charles doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

***

It turns out that Max's preferences in bed are far more adventurous than his taste in ice cream.

Which turns out to be yet another thing they're on the same page about.

#Lestappen #Lestappen fic #My writing #thearchercore #Ice cream shop AU

[bemusedlybespectacled]

Question: I enjoyed s1 OF OFMD, but for various reasons I never actually got around to watching s2 (pick up most of the plot from tumblr tho). What exactly went wrong in s2 that got so many people upset?

Oh, boy. Very long rant incoming.

So, for context, S2 had a significantly smaller budget, which necessitated moving the filming location to union-unfriendly New Zealand, reducing the number of actors/number of appearances of established actors, and cutting down the number of episodes from 10 to 8. In a show where each episode is only about half an hour long, that last one alone was enough to seriously hamper any character development or plot. I am very comfortable putting the vast majority of the blame on HBO because of these financial decisions.

The short version is that Jenkins et. al. needed to address and build on the problems left hanging in S1 while also getting the characters to the end of their character trajectories in case there was no S3 while also leaving room for additional episodes in case there was a S3, in a grand total of four hours, and failed.

The long version is that there were a bunch of what I'd consider small problems in isolation that came together and exploded in the S2 finale.

The reduced cast necessitated breaking up the crew (ex: having Swede marry Jackie and stay on land with her, so they don't need to pay Nat Faxon for all eight episodes) and not spending as much time on their relationships as S1 did.

The reduced time meant that the entire season was rushed (in contrast to S1, which takes place over at least several weeks if not months, most of S2 takes place in roughly five days), leading both to a lot of telling rather than showing (because they don't have time to show you), including vital character and relationship development.

This includes:

Having the Kraken half of the crew beat Ed to death after months of being abused by him – abuse that is clearly shown to have given them PTSD and a well-justified fear and hatred of him – only for them to be okay with him two in-universe days later;

On that note, having Stede dismiss the crew's concerns about Ed because he loves him and also we only have three more episodes left to fit in everything so we need to get over it really fast, even though Stede is supposed to be well-meaning and caring (even if he's not good at it all the time);

Resolving the issue of Stede abandoning Ed in one day, then having them "go slowly" in their relationship for two days and then have some spur-of-the-moment sex, and then the next afternoon have them break up over their diverging career aspirations, and then the day after that resolve that problem and retire on land while the rest of the crew sails off into the sunset;

Stede becoming a fantastic pirate captain over the course of one day, becoming wildly popular in the piracy world two days later, and then deciding the day after that to never be a captain again because he is retiring with Ed;

Having Ed and Stede decide to retire together as what is implied to be the end point of their relationship arc, when none of Stede's issues from S1, like his poor self-esteem, have been so much as mentioned by anyone, implying that he's either magically gotten over them or they don't matter all that much, actually, even though they were the catalyst for basically everything he did in S1;

Ed having two separate character crises – "I am an unlovable person" and "I want to do something with my life other than piracy" – not spending a lot of time on either one, having moments that clearly indicate he is still working on both problems and they have not been resolved, and then apparently having them both be resolved in the final episode despite nothing occurring to actually make that happen, and in regards to the latter, despite the story actively undermining it by repeatedly showing he can't do anything other than piracy;

Related to the above, Ed ending the series as allegedly being loved by the crew as a family (thus solving Crisis #1) despite this never actually being shown, demonstrated, or even fucking alluded to onscreen. If anything, it shows the exact opposite.

This last point is especially galling to me because of what is probably the most divisive issue in the fandom right now: killing off Izzy Hands after giving him seven episodes of character development.

The show begins with the Kraken crew clearly trying to use the skills they learned as part of Stede's crew to cope with their incredibly shitty situation and care for each other, which includes Izzy. Izzy, on his end, tries to protect the crew and speak up for them, which results in him being repeatedly hurt (both implicitly, as Ed at one point says "that's another toe" in response to Izzy advocating for the crew and we later see he's missing more than one toe already, and explicitly, as Ed shoots him in the fucking leg in front of the crew when he stands up for them).

This camaraderie is shown again and again and again. Frenchie, Jim, and Archie take care of Izzy while his leg is infected, at risk to their own lives. Izzy's misery over losing his leg is what unites the PTSD-ridden Kraken crew and the well-meaning-but-ignorant-of-PTSD marooned crew, who are initially at odds, to make him a new prosthetic leg. Izzy gives Lucius advice about forgiving Ed. Izzy is introduced to drag and opens up enough to sing at a crew party, and the whole crew is having fun together while Ed and Stede are in their cabin having sex for the first time. Izzy gives Stede pirate captain lessons and bonds with him when Ed leaves him. Izzy provokes the season's villain into focusing on him and then gives a big speech about how piracy is about belonging to something, giving the rest of the crew time to try to escape.

Recall that Season 1 had some pretty well-established universe rules, one of which was that it runs on Muppet physics/magical realism. People can jump off yardarms, hit the side on the way down, and be perfectly fine. People can get stabbed in the liver and it's totally okay because it's probably not that important, and even can stay pinned to a mast all night that way with only mild discomfort. Buttons can talk to birds and see long distances without a spyglass and put hexes on people. Good people can be hurt (Stede is stabbed repeatedly), bad people can die (the Badmintons, Geraldo), but no one we care about is ever killed.

This is repeated in Season 2: Ed is beaten into a coma with a cannonball and wakes up like Sleeping Beauty after a spirit journey, with no injuries to his face or body. Buttons turns into a seagull after spending an episode doing a magic ritual and is never seen again (because they couldn't keep paying Ewen Bremner due to the budget cuts). Jackie microdoses her husbands with poison to build up their immunity, so that she can later pull a Dread Pirate Westley and poison the British with shared drinks.

So: in the finale, the villain of the season is taken hostage by the pirates (for reasons? unclear how that fits in the plan), happens to have a gun on him (no one checked??), shoots Izzy on the right side and then leaves with no repercussions. The entire crew stands around silently doing nothing while Ed cries over Izzy and tells him that he's his only family.

And Izzy fucking Hands, the guy who just spent eight episodes bonding with and protecting everyone, uses his last words to reassure Ed that him becoming Blackbeard/the Kraken was Izzy's fault and that the crew is Ed's family and they all love him. No one else says anything to Izzy or tries to comfort him or help him in any way.

I repeat: in a show predicated on the idea that bullies and bigots die stupid deaths while queer people and POC are basically magic, a show that was praised for being kind to queer people by not making them worry about their faves suffering or dying, a show founded on the strength of the relationships between the characters, the guy who went through a season-long arc of learning to embrace his pirate found family and his own queerness is shot for stupid reasons on the side we're told isn't important and dies while everyone just stands there. His last words are about the whole crew loving Ed when the only person that the whole crew has loved all season is him.

Anyway, never mind all that, let's cut to Lucius and Pete getting married and Stede and Ed retiring!

Complicating all this is that people who liked Izzy (or even said anything insufficiently mean about Izzy) were harassed for months in between seasons with insults, slurs, and actual fucking death threats. Izzy's growth was kind of a vindication for liking him: it meant that, despite all the harassment, we were right to like him and care about him as a character. Even people who didn't like him initially started to like him during Season 2.

And then he dies, and now there's a bunch of people saying that Izzy fans are big whiny babies who can't handle fictional death, and actually his death was so meaningful and beautiful and the only logical end to his arc, and it can't be bad writing because people die in real life all the time, and also he admitted he fed Ed's darkness so actually he was a terrible person all along anyway and they were right to hate him (and his fans)!

So, yeah, there are a lot of reasons why it's so hated, and I'm probably only addressing the problems of the pro-Izzy people (from what I can tell, BlackBonnet shippers who don't like Izzy think Ed and Stede's relationship is fine and dandy, but I'm sure that there are other criticisms they have that I have not addressed). I'm not even addressing the issues with Jim and Oluwande's relationship this season (and whooo boy are there issues).

It wasn't a universally bad season. There were episodes I really loved and still do. But the finale was a train wreck, and because it was a train wreck, a lot of people are looking back at what happened before the wreck and realizing that, oh, the train lost its brakes and steering because of the budget cuts and the engineers kept throwing fuel in the engine to make it go faster, and huh, now that I think of it, that part earlier in the trip was really wobbly but I didn't pay much attention to it at the time because I was sure the engineers had everything covered.

#ofmd critical #our flag means death #writing #izzy hands #ofmd meta #askbox #personal

[morganbritton132]

obsessed w this new saga with David and the other teachers.... perhaps them either coming over again for a small party - "it's mostly family!!" Hence being even more confused when even MORE famous people show up (THAT'S brony Erica???)

I’m picturing the same cookout from this post.

There are three new eighth grade teachers this year. Including David, there is Marissa and Jordan. Then there is Kathy, who has been at the school for two years. They are all trying to figure out what is going on with Steve Harrington.

The man is a complete mystery.

He’s a walking contradiction in a math pun sweatshirt and he is often the topic of conversation when the four of them are alone in the breakroom. Jordan describes him as ‘onion-like’ because he has many layers and Marissa always replies with, ‘yeah, a fucked up alien onion where each new layer is weirder than the last.’

It’s a bit cruel but also, they found an article about Starcourt Mall.

Who is just in a fire? Who saves a bunch of children from a structure fire that collapsed on top of them and doesn’t make it their whole personality for the rest of forever? Who just never mentions it ever?

Steve Harrington, apparently.

After David (and Kathy) left Steve’s house more confused about the mild-mannered math teacher than ever, he went home and googled ‘Eddie Harrington.’ All he found was a link to a Facebook page for some dentist.

So, like, who the hell is he even married to, right? The guy has a Grammy but not a Wikipedia page? What’s up with that?

All David knows is that when Anita (the teacher that’s probably closest to Steve) invites everybody over for a cookout and says that your partners are more than welcomed, he’s going. When Steve asks if it’d be okay if Erica stopped by on her way to the airport and Anita said yes, he’s definitely going.

He is not going to miss the opportunity to see the kid that gave her dad psychic damage by introducing him to the fucked up parts of the My Little Pony fandom. No way.

Kathy informs everybody that she will NOT be bringing her husband, but she will bring booze.

David arrives too early and ends up helping in the kitchen. He’s slicing up tomatoes with the world’s dullest knife when Steve gets there. He can’t see the front door, but he can hear Anita ask, “Oh, where’s your service doggie?”

“It’s his day off,” He hears Steve joke, “Brought the human instead.”

And then David hears the man of mystery’s man of mystery himself because Eddie says with 100% impulsive thinking and 0% brain-to-mouth filter, “Yeah, he brought his service top instead.”

David just knows that Steve is giving Eddie the same dead-eyed look of unbelievable that is reserved for students that mix their chocolate milk with peas and dare each other to drink it in the silence that follows. Anita, bless her heart, replies as happy and clueless as can be, “Oh, that’s cute. Because you provide a top-notch service.”

“Never had any compl- ow!”

The first time David gets a good look at them, Eddie’s pressed up against Steve’s back, looking over his shoulder at the pictures of Anita’s grandkids she has on her phone. One of his hands is wrapped loosely around his waist and Steve is holding the other one, fiddling with the rings on it. They look so casual, like they’re always standing that close together.

David watches as Anita points in the direction of the drinks cooler and Eddie slips away with a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck and then another to his cheek. They hold hands until they absolutely have to let go. It’s cute. Marissa, next to him, scoffs and says, “Gag me with a spoon, they’re fucking adorable.”

Eddie returns to Steve with two beers and a Smirnoff Ice for Anita, gets another kiss and clearly calls Steve ‘sweetie’ when he clinks their bottles together. Steve throws his arm across Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie tucks his hand into Steve’s back pocket like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

David loses track of Steve and Eddie for a while, catching them in his peripheral as he mingles with everybody. He seems them steal a kiss. He sees them laughing at something Kathy says. He sees them holding hands as Eddie looks utterly lost during a discussion of the baseball season.

At one point, he sees Eddie stand up on the bench of the picnic table and get yanked down by Steve. They’re both laughing and Steve gives him a kiss that is not exactly chaste.

Cindy rolls her eyes at them and says that they’re always like that.

Him and Jordan are playing cornhole against Steve and Eddie. He’s almost positive that Eddie is not as bad at the game as he’s pretending to be, but just likes when ‘Stevie baby’ guides him through how to throw the beanbags. If it wasn’t for Steve excusing himself than he probably wouldn’t have noticed the big SUV parked in the driveway.

His first thought when he sees Erica is ‘oh, she must be adopted’ followed immediately by ‘wait, duh’ and then by ‘hey, wait a minute.’

Steve gets stopped by her bodyguard before he can hug her with a big threatening hand on his shoulder. David’s still trying to figure out why she looks so familiar when Erica says to the bodyguard, “Uh, excuse you. Do not touch him. He was my first bodyguard, have some respect.”

Steve scoffs, “I was your babysitter.”

“I’m sorry,” Erica says, full of sass. Eddie is a couple steps back, grinning ear to ear. He loves when Erica and Steve get into it. “Did you bleed for me? Did you fight for me? Did you, Steve Harrington, get tortured so I made it out safe? I think so. Bodyguard.”

Eddie finally greets her with a bow, “Lady Applejack.”

Erica gives him a flat look and tells her bodyguard, “You can tase that one.”

David is still reeling from the words ‘babysitter’ and ‘torture’ that he probably would’ve missed Marissa in his ear if she wasn’t so goddamn loud, “Holy shit, that’s a fucking US Senator.”

Jordan is quieter when she mutters, “Language.”

Later in the evening when the sun is starting to set and they should all really go home and prep their lesson plans for next week, Anita’s husband lights a bonfire. David is sitting across from the fire from Steve and Eddie and he so tempted to ask what Eddie does for a living when Steve whispers something to him and then stands up quickly.

He can’t even ask what that was about because Eddie gets up and follows him, almost matching Steve’s quick steps into the house. They’re gone for a while, long enough that David gets up to check on Steve. He looked pretty pale when he rushed out of here.

He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears them, and he stops. Steve sounds tired but reassuring as he repeats, “I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m fine now.”

He hears Eddie respond with, “I know, baby. I know, but rest with me for a minute, kay?”

When he pokes his head around the turn in the staircase, he can see the bottom of Steve’s Nikes hanging over the top landing. He can also see the bottom of Eddie’s boots where he’s crouched over Steve. His first reaction is to think he stumbled on them in a compromising position, but he can’t bring himself to move just yet.

“You just had a seizure, take your time getting your bearings, sweetheart. Do you wanna go home?” Eddie asks in a cacophony of jingling metal rings and chains. Steve makes a noise that Eddie interprets, “Okay, do you want me to give you space?”

“No, come –“ The sound of metal clinking together doesn’t get louder, just more and when David pokes his head around the corner again, Eddie is straddled across Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands are on his hips and then higher, pushing up Eddie’s shirt clumsily just feeling him. “Feel floaty.”

“I’ll keep you grounded, baby.”

David knows he should leave, or at least looks away, but he stuck frozen to the floor at the sight of the scar tissue running up Eddie’s sides and back. They’re deep and jagged, and old. It looks like he was torn open and sewed back shut, and it takes David a long time to get his feet to go back down the stairs.

He goes back out to the fire a little dazed and later, it’s only Eddie that returns. He whispers something to Anita and then disappears into the night.

When Cindy makes a comment about Steve leaving without a proper goodbye, David tells her to shut up.

#I made one post about David wondering why Eddie Munson is and followed it up with a post where Eddie introduces himself as a Harrington #I think it’s infinitely funnier if David is trying to find info about this man but has the wrong name #Steve has his one-sided beef with Diane. Cindy has hers with Steve #This one is long and it sorta/kinda answers the prompt this time #This was a great prompt. I really enjoyed writing this #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[avatar-anna]

Hi I was wondering if you could write something about the fan!reader having a small business and Harry randomly checks out the shop and he immediately thinks she's cute or something? If really appreciate it :)

yes!! i... don't really know how i ended up with this fic, and i'm not sure i like it, so lmk what you think!

part two

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was there again.

You knew who he was, of course, how could you not? Harry Styles was the world’s biggest rockstar, known for his 70s-inspired sound, arms covered in tattoos, and elusive reputation. He was loved by millions, yet no one actually knew him, which you assumed was a part of his allure.

In short, Harry Styles wasn’t the kind of person you thought you would find at a Saturday farmer’s market, yet he was there. Every weekend. You weren’t one of his devoted followers, but as time went by and you saw more and more of him, you began to notice things about him. He dressed impeccably, but in a way that said he didn’t want to be noticed. His painted nails were always in various stages of chipped, which you started to believe he preferred it that way because you never saw him with a new manicure. And from what you could tell, he only ever spoke to the two or three friends he walked around with, so you tried to respect his privacy and not notice him. That didn’t stop other people from coming up to him and asking for a picture, but you let him be.

It was hard to do that when he kept coming to your stall every weekend and left empty-handed, though.

Harry Styles, you discovered, was not only the quiet and brooding type, but apparently, he was also the type of person to inspect every single thing in a store and then not buy anything. Not a single thing. Some days it felt like he inspected every petal and stem just to not buy a single flower, let alone a whole bouquet. And his brows were always furrowed, like the display wasn't up to his standards. You didn't know what kinds of flowers Harry Styles bought, but clearly yours weren't good enough for him.

A real head scratcher because he was at your stall every Saturday.

It made you question your stall sometimes—the way you arranged your flowers, the brown paper and ribbon and twine you wrapped them in; the bunches of lavender and rosemary, and bouquets of roses and daises and carnations and peonies, and all the other sweet-smelling flowers you grew at home and brought to the market every weekend. You couldn’t understand why your flowers weren’t good enough for him. Or why he kept coming back to your stall if they weren't.

Each time he stopped by your stall and didn’t buy anything, you got more and more annoyed, something that didn’t happen often. It got to the point that by the sixth time he walked up to inspect your flowers, you couldn’t sit by anymore. You were going to say something, you just had to work up the courage first.

You’d been on your phone typing up possible things to say to him, so you didn’t see Harry walk up to your stall, and when you looked up, you jumped. He was right in front of you.

“I, um, I wanted to ask for your opinion,” he said, his voice so quiet you had to lean in to hear him.

“My opinion?” you asked, looking at him skeptically.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I—I want to buy a bouquet of flowers, but I don’t know which ones to get. I'm meeting someone and am in a bit of a rush, so if you could just...”

He gestured like he wanted you to be quick in your assessment of your own flower arrangements.

You were curious as to why now, after weeks of him practically judging your stall, he wanted your advice, or to buy something. But when he said he was in a rush, you realized you were probably a last resort. Harry didn't want to buy from you, you were just a convenient option.

"Sure. Is there anything you're looking for in particular?"

"Flowers," he blurted, looking at you like he suddenly regretted coming to your stall at all. At that moment, you wondered where his normal group of friends was. Harry was rarely ever alone, and you would've loved a buffer between the two of you right about now.

Rolling your eyes, you said, "I meant, what's the occasion? Are you celebrating? Is it romantic? Are they for a family member?"

You hoped that your questions would clear things up, but he only looked at you with a deeper frown. "Does it matter? They're all flowers."

This was your moment. This was your opportunity to speak your mind and match his sour energy. But as you opened your mouth to tell him how you really felt about his judgy eyes and above-it-all demeanor, you chickened out.

"You're right. Here," you told him, pulling a random bouquet from your stall and handing it to Harry. It was a personal favorite of yours—lavender and daisies and baby's breath bundled together with twine—and a pretty neutral bouquet. Unless he was about to go to some sort of anniversary event with a significant other, in which something a little more grand would be more fitting. But he said it didn't matter, so you decided not to think into it too much.

"That'll be twelve dollars."

His brows raised in a way that made you dislike him even more, but he only pulled his wallet out and handed you a twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the change," he mumbled, then walked off the way he'd come.

"Ass," you muttered.

Checking your watch, you realized the market was going to be over soon. And since no one was even looking at your stall, you decided to pack up for the day. You began pulling bouquets from their displays, already coming up with ways to repurpose the ones that were showing signs of wilting. You often dried them and made little bookmarks, plates, ornaments, and other kinds of decorations, but that took time and planning.

"Did Harry Styles just buy flowers from here?"

You looked behind you to where a girl dressed in bell bottoms and a crop top was standing, glitter-covered eyes looking at you expectantly.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Can I buy the same bouquet as him? Does he shop here a lot?"

There was an opportunity here. To lie or to tell the truth. Since you were still a little miffed by the singer's behavior, you went with a little white lie. "He comes here every week."

It technically wasn't a lie. He did come every week, but the girl didn't have to know that today was the first time he'd ever purchased anything. You had a lot of flowers to sell, and Harry was going to help you, whether he was aware of it or not.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The next Saturday came and Harry was back with what some might consider his “entourage.” If it was possible, he looked even moodier than he normally did, and he was headed straight towards you. You didn’t know what he wanted, nor did you care that people were gawking at him as he came into your stall. Thanks to him, business was better than ever, word having spread that the Harry Styles frequented your flower stand. You were in the middle of helping a bride with ideas for arrangements for her wedding, and you weren’t going to stop for Harry. He could wait.

“I need to speak to you.”

His voice made it seem like there wasn’t room for debate, but you didn’t see it that way.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute. Feel free to look around,” you told him, quickly going back to the bride to be.

You could practically feel him standing behind you, but you took your time helping the potential client. In reality, it was maybe two or three minutes, but when you turned around, Harry’s arms were crossed like you’d made him wait an hour.

Smiling, you asked, “How can I help you?”

“She didn’t like them.”

You knew what he was talking about, but an evil part of you kind of liked pissing the rockstar off. “Like what?”

Harry just continued to stare intensely. “The flowers. The ones I bought from you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” you said, and you meant it too. You took pride in arranging your bouquets. “Did you want to buy more or did you just want to tell me that?”

“Well, I—” He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I mean not really, but she said I had to.”

Your brows raised, both thoroughly confused and amused at the same time. “Okay. Well, have a look around, and let me know if—”

“There’s nothing here,” he interrupted. “She’s very picky. Likes to have stuff that other people don’t.”

Who was he dating? The queen? you thought. You understood getting the right bouquet and having a favorite flower, but you couldn’t just pull the ones you had apart and make Harry a new one. You grouped those flowers together for a reason.

“I mean if you think they’re unsatisfactory, then you could always just go somewhere else,” you said.

“It’s not me, it’s her,” Harry said. “I couldn’t care less, but she’s insisting, and I’m already here, so.”

He didn’t even realize that he just insulted you. And not only that, but he still expected your help.

Channeling all of your most calming thoughts, you took a deep breath and smiled. “Well, let me check the back for something more unique. Oh wait, there is no back,” you said with a shrug. If he didn’t care, then you didn’t either.

“Why are you being rude? I’m asking you for help,” he asked, seeming utterly confused.

It occurred to you then that the man in front of you might just be the brutally honest type, that he didn’t think he was being mean, just honest. He was, but you weren’t going to have it out with him about his behavior. If no one hadn’t called him out on it, you weren’t going to be the one to change his mind.

“I...guess you can come back to my garden and pick out a bouquet there, but it’ll cost you ex—”

“Done. When can we leave?”

“Market closes in an hour,” you said, eager to be rid of him for the time being.

“I’ll come back then.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered. It was sarcastic, of course, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry was back in exactly an hour, his friends nowhere to be seen. He watched passively as you loaded wooden crates of flowers into your truck, and when you finally closed up the bed, you walked back over to him.

“You can just follow me in your car, I guess. I live about ten minutes from here.”

You weren’t surprised when all he did was nod. He followed you to the market’s parking lot, your eyes widening when he slid behind a sleek black car with tinted windows.

The entire drive, your mind was occupied. You wondered how the hell you ended up in this situation and pondered ways it could’ve gone differently. Perhaps you should’ve just told Harry to find another florist, or just let him pick apart your bouquets. But you were here, driving in your beat up, barely working, pick-up truck with one of the biggest celebrities of today trailing behind you in a car that costed more than you made in a year.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Take a look around and let me know if you see anything you like.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t want to leave him alone among the rows of flowers, but you also didn’t want to awkwardly trail behind him. So you settled for venturing to the next row over pretending to gather flowers while keeping an eye on him.

Harry barely said a word as he walked up and down your garden, his face as void of emotion as always. You wondered if he ever smiled, or what his laugh sounded like, but you quickly shook those thoughts away.

“I can’t find anything.”

Having gotten lost in picking out marigolds that looked ready to be picked, you startled at Harry’s sudden closeness. It appeared he was very sneaky.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said, though you kind of expected that from him. “I don’t have anything else to show you.”

“I just don’t know what to get for her, and she’ll have my head if I don’t get it right,” he said, and for a moment it sounded like he was genuinely worried about the possibility of his head being removed from his neck.

Harry claimed he couldn’t find anything, but it looked to you like he wasn’t going to leave here empty handed.

“Um...” You quickly scanned the row you were in. Spotting some pink carnations and wild daisies, an idea sprouted in your head. You snipped stems and went to another row to pull some other flowers to match. “Here. Carnations symbolize gratitude and the wild daisies beauty and hope. And the little purple ones are unique and will tie the whole thing together once I wrap them in purple paper. Does that work?”

Harry took the flowers from your hands and inspected them like he was about to give you feedback on your choice. Why he would do that, you weren’t sure. You didn’t go to his home and criticize his music.

But all he said was, “Flowers have meaning?”

You breathed heavily through your nose. “Yes, they do. Now, if you’d like, I can wrap these up for you. Put a bow on them maybe?”

Harry looked like he wanted to ask more about flowers and their meanings, but he just nodded.

You led him away from your garden and into your garage, which you’d converted into a workspace years ago. It was covered in unfinished projects and snipped stems and stray petals, but honestly it always looked like that.

“Um, there are small animals following you.”

“Oh!”

Turning around, you saw that Harry was right. There was a line of ducklings following you towards the house. Bending down, you cupped your hands and let a couple hop in.

“This is Melon, Sandy, and Hank. They hatched recently, and now they follow me everywhere.”

Harry peered down at the ducklings curiosity wrinkling his brow. “They...follow...you?”

“Yep. Do you want to hold one? Actually, why don’t you just take these while I go wrap up your flowers.”

You handed the ducklings off to Harry while you darted into your workspace, making quick work of cutting ribbon and tying a knot around the sweet peas’s stems. When you returned, Harry was holding two ducks while one somehow made it onto his shoulder and was burying itself in his hair.

“Sorry, I should’ve mentioned that Melon does that,” you said.

It was a risk to step into Harry’s personal bubble, you didn’t think he would be the type to appreciate that, but he also looked slightly freaked out that a duckling named Melon was trying to make a home out of his hair. Carefully, you removed Melon from strands of hair until he was safely back in your hands.

Harry quietly took the packaged flowers from you and handed the other ducklings back. Figuring he was in some kind of shock from holding the three ducks, you left him to his silence and showed him out.

“Do you own a lot of animals?”

The question surprised you, but only because you assumed Harry would want to leave as quickly as possible. “I don’t really see myself as an ‘owner,’ but I technically have a cow. And Cheese. And deer show up every now and again.

“Cheese?”

“A tree frog,” you clarified. “I was high when I named him.

That time you were sure the corner of his mouth flickered. “That’s...unusual.”

“What? Getting high?”

“No, the cow and—”

“That was a joke,” you said, stopping him even though his flustered state satisfied you to no end.

“Oh. Well here,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet and pulling out a bunch of bills.

You started at them in shock. There was easily a hundred dollars in your hands. “I don’t need that mu—”

“Just take it. Please,” he insisted.

For a brief moment there, Harry seemed... different. You couldn’t really pass judgement because you didn’t know him, but the last couple minutes, he wasn’t so tense and wasn’t frowning so much. More awkward than broody. But he seemed closed off again,so you just took the money like he told you to.

Harry quickly sped off after that, and you were left alone in the dust, literally, trying to comprehend the day you just had.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Wiggles says you own a cow.”

Your first instinct was to look up, not down, so you didn’t see her at first. When you realized it wasn’t an adult that was speaking to you, your eyes shifted downward.

The first thing you saw was blond hair slicked back into a ponytail, the next thing was the coffee cup. She looked like she was nine going on twenty-nine with a plaid skirt and sweater vest. Who was this girl and where did she come from?

“You realize coffee stunts your growth, don’t you?” you asked, though a smile played at your lips.

She looked down at you the best she could at her height. A very commendable effort, you decided. “It’s decaf.”

“Fair enough. Who told you about my cow?”

“H—”

“Lucy, there you are!”

With wide eyes, you watched as Harry jogged over to you and the young girl. Lucy.

It seemed Harry switched out his usual group of friends for this young girl. You knew you probably shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Wiggles?”

At that, Harry glared down at Lucy. “We talked about that.”

Lucy shrugged. “You talked. I listened, and then I silently disagreed.”

You immediately liked this girl.

Turning away from Lucy, Harry looked at you with pink cheeks. “Sorry about her. We were just leaving, actually.”

“Oh. No worries, she just—”

“You came all this way and you’re not gonna give it to her?” Lucy asked.

It seemed as if this girl was Harry’s kryptonite, as he began to blush even harder. Sighing, Harry set the drink in his hand down on the table you were sitting behind. The drink you always ordered.

You looked at the drink, astonished. “How did you—”

“I just noticed the label, and I knew that that coffee shop is close by, and I mean the drink is green so all I had to ask for was the green one. It’s not like it was hard or anything.”

It sounded like Harry was trying to convince himself of that fact and not you, but the fact that his moody, broody exterior wasn’t as thick as you initially assumed put a smile on your face.

“Thank you. I don’t know why you got it for me, but thank you.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Harry said, “Well, I told Lucy about the florist who owned ducklings and a cow, and she insisted that I take her, and when I tried to explain that your house wasn’t a petting zoo, she said—”

“That everyone has a price, and Wiggles has a very big wallet,” Lucy supplied helpfully.

Lots of things shocked you at the moment, it was hard to pinpoint which one had your mouth slightly ajar.

Harry had...a child? They didn't look anything alike, but that didn't say much. But not only did he have a child, who was just as blunt as Harry was, he talked about you to her. You were curious to know in how much detail, but you didn't dare ask. It was clear Harry—Wiggles—had his hands full.

"I was just bringing this as a thank you for your help last week. That's all," Harry said, looking you dead in the eye. It was like he needed you to know he had absolutely no ulterior motives with the coffee. Not that you expected him to. As far as you knew, Harry had never been photographed with anyone romantically, but you had a feeling a florist and cow owner wasn't his type.

"Thanks," you said, picking up the drink and taking a sip from the straw.

It was awkwardly silent after that. You didn't really know what to say, and from the looks of it, Harry didn't want to say anything. His mask of indifference was back, but he made no move to take himself and Lucy away.

"So is it like one of those black and white cows you see on milk cartons, or is it—"

"Lucy," Harry hissed.

"What?"

The pair had a very interesting dynamic. The way they interacted felt more sibling-esque than father-daughter, and now you really wanted to know what exactly they meant to each other.

"She's a miniature cow with brown hair," you said to Lucy, not minding her curiosity one bit.

"Miniature?"

You nodded. "She won't grow to be very big. Wanna see?"

Harry stood with his arms crossed while you and Lucy looked at pictures of your pet on your phone. As you scrolled, the young girl peppered you with questions, and while you were more than happy to answer all of them, you could tell that Harry was even more ready to leave.

"You really live there? It looks like a fairy's home," she said, admiring the picture of Petal the miniature cow dozing in the garden.

"I do."

Lucy turned to Harry, and while his arms were still crossed and his face was still pretty stoic, something in his eyes softened when he looked at her. "We have to have our next tea party there."

"You can't just use someone's home for your tea parties, Lucy," Harry said, sounding like he'd had similar conversations before.

"Well obviously Y/n would be invited too," Lucy said with a roll of her eyes.

Sighing, he told her, "You can't invite yourself over to someone's house, Lu—"

"It's fine," you said, even if Harry was technically right. "Lucy, why don't you go pick out a bouquet of flowers. Free of charge."

Lucy's eyes lit up, and she scampered off to inspect each one, much like Harry often did when he stopped by.

Now that you and Harry were relatively alone, you were able to digest some of the information you'd learned in the last few minutes, the first being that Harry Styles, the Harry Styles that toured the world as a rock star and sang about sex and hallucinogenics, went to tea parties with a girl who couldn't be older than ten years old and called him Wiggles. Who knew that was what he was hiding under that broody facade?

"I'm sorry about her, she has no sense of personal boundaries," he finally said, breaking you away from your thoughts.

"Like I said, it's fine. She just made my day."

That made Harry smile just enough for a dimple to indent one of his cheeks. It made you wonder what his actual smile looked like. Attractive like him, you assumed, though you doubted you would ever see it.

"Thanks. And don't worry about the whole tea party and coming over thing, she'll forget about it by tomorrow."

Harry was saying one thing, but it didn't sound like he was all that convinced, and after witnessing Lucy's fascination and persistence yourself, you knew that she would probably nag Harry about it for days, maybe even weeks, to come.

"I...wouldn't mind if she came to visit Petal, but I will require one thing."

Harry looked skeptical but also relieved that he wasn't going to have to repeatedly tell Lucy no. "Deal. What is it?"

"I need to know how Harry Styles got the nickname 'Wiggles.'"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Suddenly knowing things about a celebrity was weird.

To you, Harry had just been some guy that was popular on the radio and really had a problem with your flower arrangements, and now he and his...well, you didn't know who Lucy was to him, but they were coming over to your house so that she could meet your pet cow.

Life was utterly bizarre (cow pun intended).

You didn't really know what to expect from Harry. He was quiet and standoffish and had this uncanny ability to make you question every little thing you did. You were used to seeing him from a distance, watching him as he silently judged your bouquets of flowers, and now you were spending an extended period of time with him. You weren't sure why you cared, but you did.

So you put a little effort into what you were wearing for your guests, but not to the point of looking like you were trying too hard. A bandana over your hair, a pair of jeans that didn't have grass stains on them, and a green turtleneck sweater that made your eyes pop.

Lucy and Harry were right on time, something you were expecting from them. This whole arrangement was strange, but seeing Lucy's eyes widen as she took in your garden in person made it all worth it.

Harry was pretty much silent as you showed Lucy all the different types of flowers and how to properly pick them. He trailed behind the two of you like some kind of bodyguard, boots kicking up dirt and crunching gravel as he walked.

"Is he always like that?" you couldn't help but ask Lucy. You wondered if it was just you who had that affect on him, or if that was just his natural disposition.

"Mm, kinda. He's just shy. Doesn't know how to talk to girls."

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but that was not how you assumed Harry Styles would be. You weren't a huge fan of his by any means, but you didn't live under a rock, either. Girls practically threw themselves at him, you guessed he had no issue flirting with girls.

Not that that's what you thought Harry wanted from you. His feelings towards you were pretty clear, you thought.

"I can hear you, you know," Harry called from a few feet behind you and Lucy. She giggled, like that was exactly her plan, but you just blushed. He didn't need to know you were asking about him.

"And here's Petal. She mostly just sleeps and eats all day," you said a while later. Lucy had insisted you showed her everything, and after an hour, you finally made it to where Petal was napping in the afternoon sun.

"She's so cute! Isn't she cute, Wig—I mean Harry?"

You stood back after telling Lucy where the best places to pet Petal were so she wouldn't get spooked, more than happy to just watch like Harry was.

You tried not to, but you couldn't help but steal glances at Harry. Your eyes caught on the sharp angle of his jaw the curl of his lashes and the point of his nose. And when you settled on his hair, you couldn't help but smile.

"You—You have something in your hair," you said, and before you could think, you were reaching up to pluck the dandelion tuft from one of his curls. The image of Harry's hair dotted with flowers made you smile even wider.

When you pulled back and saw his wide eyes, though, you immediately took a step back. "Sorry, I should've asked before invading your space like that."

Harry cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "It's fine."

Not that you really expected to, but you couldn't read Harry for the life of you. There were moments where you thought he was just awkward like Lucy said, and then there were those where he just seemed inexplicably cold. Maybe it's just me, you thought, and you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by that.

When you turned back towards Lucy to ask if she wanted to go find your ducklings, you missed the way rested his face in his hands.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You weren't sure how it happened, but Harry and Lucy were suddenly a part of your life.

Well, that wasn't totally true. Lucy kept inviting herself over, and you learned very quickly that Harry had a hard time telling her no. Not that you minded. Lucy was sweet, and it was nice having people around.

Harry remained as cold as ever. Over the last few weeks, you knew almost everything about Lucy. As she helped you pick flower crowns, she told you how she preferred her coffee, while you showed her how to make flower crowns and preserve dried flowers, she revealed that Harry was her godfather who helped take care of her, and she told you about her classmate that sang a little too loudly during music class. And while you brewed tea for her tea party, she broke down her meal schedule, from breakfast croissant all the way down to her bedtime glass of steamed milk (non-dairy, of course).

And yet, in all that time, Harry remained a mystery. Unless Lucy included him in a story, you knew as much about him as you did when he was merely someone who came by your stall at the farmer's market.

It didn't bother you, but you were curious as to why stayed so far away whenever you and Lucy hung out.

"Are you free on Saturday night, Y/n?"

You looked up from where you'd been braiding little flowers into Lucy's hair. "I think so. Why? Are you asking to come over?"

"No, I have plans, but you should definitely go out."

She did that a lot, you learned. She liked to tell you what to do with your life and give you advice on how to spend it. Most of it you ignored, seeing as she was nine—though you did take her up on a coffee recommendation she gave you a week ago—but for the most part, you humored her.

"And where should I go?" you asked.

"Wiggles is playing at the Troubadour. You should go see him perform."

Looking over to where Harry sat on a patio chair, you assumed he would be on his phone or staring off into the distance, but his eyes were already on you and Lucy, watching the conversation play out.

"Um..." You weren't really sure how to answer with Harry staring you down like that. Did he want you to say no? Yes? You couldn't tell. "It's kind of last minute, don't you think? I think it might be sold out by now."

"He could work something out. Couldn't you, Harry? Don't you want Y/n to see you perform?"

You didn't know him, but one thing you could assume about Harry Styles was that he didn't like being put on the spot. Looking at you, he said, "If you want to come, I could figure something out."

Lucy jumped up and clapped. "See? Perfect! Now your night won't be boring and Wiggles will be so excited you're coming."

He certainly didn't look very excited. His face morphed into a grimace, though you tried not to be too offended by that.

When it was time for Lucy and Harry to leave, you pulled Harry aside once Lucy was buckled up in the car.

"I won't come if you don't want me to."

Harry shook his head, curls bouncing around his shoulders as he moved. "No, you should. The Troubadour is a cool venue."

"Uh...Okay. Sure. I guess it wouldn't hurt to have plans on Saturday night."

Giving you a curt nod, he said. "Great. I'll text you the details on Friday."

"Cool, I'll see you—then," you said, but he'd already spun around to get in the car.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"The Troubadour is a cool venue?" Lucy mocked with a giggle.

Harry rested his head on the steering wheel and blew out a heavy sigh. "Shut up, Lucy."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You were overdressed.

Or perhaps not appropriately dressed was a better way to put it. You weren't the type to wear a lot of black, but maybe you should've gone out and bought something more suited for a rock concert at the Troubadour. You were in a pair of denim overalls with a floral blouse underneath, a small bouquet of flowers in your hands to give to Harry after his performance.

Everyone at Harry's show was intense, and you were suddenly very glad that you were watching from the second floor. There was a lot of pushing and shoving right in front of the stage, people reaching out in the hopes that Harry would touch their hand.

And Harry. Well, at least now you knew why everyone loved him. Everything about him was hot as he sang onstage. He played guitar, his chest was on display with the button-down that was barely buttoned, and eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, making his green eyes pop. A few times, he looked up to where you were, and you blushed every time. You thought he was cute, like most of the population, but to you that was just a fact. Now, though, butterflies stirred in your stomach.

Maybe it was that Harry seemed to come alive onstage, or that you were finally seeing a side of him other than the quiet, indifferent person you'd become acquainted with through Lucy. Whatever the case, you enjoyed seeing Harry like this, less stoic and more energetic.

When the show was over, you waited and debated. You'd brought flowers for Harry, but his text didn't say anything about the two of you meeting afterward. In truth, your connection was mostly through Lucy, and without her here, there was no reason for you to see each other.

Harry "Wiggles" Styles: You can come backstage if you'd like.

That was certainly unexpected. You made your way to what you assumed backstage, smiling at people as you passed. Some smiled back, and some glared at you when they realized where you were headed.

There was a security guard in front of the green room, but he must have been expecting you because he stepped aside before you could say anything.

"Oh! Sorry! I'll wait outside!"

Apparently, the security guard wasn't aware that Harry was changing out of his stage clothes. He'd been slipping his patterned button-down off his shoulders. You were quick to turn around, but not before catching a glimpse of broad shoulders and an entire chest covered in tattoos. Your heart had just stopped racing after his final performance, but now it was fluttering all over again.

"It's fine, Y/n. You can turn around."

Slowly, you turned on your heel. Harry was already in a t-shirt, a faded Ramones shirt with a stretched collar that revealed tattoos inching up his neck.

"These are—These are for you."

"Thanks."

You awkwardly handed over the flowers for him to take, Harry's fingers brushing yours when he eventually did. You weren't sure why you were so nervous all of a sudden. You'd seen Harry numerous times, so you didn't know why this felt so different.

"I really enjoyed your show tonight. I can see why so many people like you. And the, um, the part where you drank water and then spit it out was cool too. I think the girl next to me almost fainted."

Your nerves were palpable, so you weren't surprised when a smile itched at the corner of Harry's mouth. "I'm glad you had a good time."

Neither of you knew what to say now. Both of you stood in the middle of the green room, Harry holding the bouquet of flowers between ringed-adorned fingers and you wishing you hadn't given them away just yet so your hands had something to fiddle with.

"Well, thanks again for this. I had a lot of fun. Though maybe I should thank Lucy. She kind of forced your hand."

Harry was still staring at you with an unreadable expression. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

"I'm—I'm glad you came tonight," he said.

Your brows raised in surprise. "Really? I kind of thought you hated me."

Why did you have to go and say that, idiot? you thought. Now things were even more awkward than they were before.

Harry frowned, looking genuinely hurt by what you said. "I don't hate you. You think I hate you?"

"Well, no, I mean kinda? I guess I just took you not talking to me as disliking me, and before I even met Lucy you would always look at my stall with this hard expression on your face, and then you would never buy anything. Which is fine except you kept coming back so, I don't know, it just felt like my work wasn't good enough for you and you're always glaring and it—it's just this feeling I have."

You took a deep exhaled, having said all of that in one breath. You didn't come to Harry's show tonight with plans to say all that, but now that you did, you felt a bit better. Though now you worried you may have hurt Harry's feelings.

"I—I was just trying to come up with something," he said.

"Come up with something?"

"To say. To you. I don't know anything about flowers, and you make me nervous, and the fact that I couldn't just make myself go up and talk to you frustrated me to no end. I just didn't want to look like an idiot in front of you."

"Oh."

You had no idea how to respond. All this time, you thought Harry didn't like you, only to find out that he was...nervous to talk to you? You remembered Lucy saying that Harry was shy, but you didn't think it went that deep. Apparently, it did.

"So you...like...me then?" you asked. It sounded to you like Harry had a crush, but you weren't going to make any more assumptions.

"Yeah, I—I've been working up the courage to ask you out for weeks, but Lucy beat me to it. Nosy little menace."

You couldn't help but smile at the mention of Lucy. She really was the cause of all this. "Her heart was in the right place?"

Harry nodded, but he wouldn't meet your eyes. "I understand if—if don't want to. Go out with me that is," he said, pink tinging his cheeks. "Now that I know you thought I hated you and everything. But I don't. You should know that, at the very least."

He looked so defeated with his hair hanging in his face the way it was. All of this was coming as a surprise to you, and as such rendered you speechless. But the longer you went without saying anything, the more Harry seemed to deflate.

"You, uh, you haven't actually asked me yet," you found yourself saying.

You thought Harry was a mystery, and in some respects, he was. He'd been a little rude to you the first few times you spoke to him, but everyone had their off days, and he hadn't been like that since he and Lucy started regularly coming to your house.

And without actually speaking to him much, you knew quite a bit about him. You knew he had a goddaughter, whom he loved very much and let call him Wiggles. You knew that he seemed to have a hard time expressing his feelings unless he was onstage. You knew he had a close group of friends that he hung out with regularly. And you knew he let Lucy put flowers in his hair (but you only knew that because she told you).

It was a short list, but you found yourself wanting to add to it.

Harry looked at you, hope etching his features. "Right, um. Would you like to...to go out sometime?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

As your truck pulled into the driveway, you sighed.

You felt like Cinderella after the clock struck twelve. You checked in on all your animals, making sure they were all accounted for. As you finally made it to your bedroom, you replayed the night's events over and over.

You didn't think that was where the night was headed, you almost couldn't believe it. The last few hours felt like a dream, one that you would wake up from any minute now.

But then your phone chimed, and your heart did that weird fluttery thing when you saw who the message was from.

Harry "Wiggles" Styles: I had a really good time tonight.

Harry "Wiggles" Styles: Is it too soon to ask for a second date?

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd: what the public sees between a couple

the numbers we are focusing on today are the left three numbers - this is called the leading numbers or public persona in the web. these numbers are about how a connection looks to outsiders. what is actually seen by the world can be very different from reality, so this is like the chemistry/potential seen between two people.

so let's get to it:

4 - the emperor

this could be a very public announcement of love and adoration. this connection is one where being bold and passionate makes others know that you have interest in one another. it is often apparent that these two like each other because they are passionate - these two could be a PDA couple. at the end of the day it is obvious that they will do anything to make each other happy and protect each other from other people's scrutiny.

when the energy is imbalanced, it might seem like one person is doing all the pursuing or they might look like they want to ask the other person out but aren't going to. it could look like a very public rejection or like two people who hate each other (there can only be one person left standing). it could also look like a battle between each other - someone is very defensive or very offensive (this is an immature connection where each person always feels the need to be right).

9 - hermit

this connection might be good for parallel play - you both are comfortable doing your own thing but with one another. for example, this reminds me of the friends/couples who sit together on the couch - one is playing a video game and the other is reading. no one is bothered by the lack of engagement with one another; they are just happy to be together. alternatively, this could be a long distance relationship where you rarely see one another.

when the energy is out of balance, this couple might be staying together because they fear being alone long term. that fear of being alone might center around not wanting to confront internal issues. the connection might also cause you to isolate from others for a long time - you might find yourself withdrawing from the activities you used to do before this connection. it might be for the best if you disconnect from this person and take time for yourself.

22 - the fool

this connection is opening you up to a bunch of new possibilities in life. you can trust that the connection worth taking a risk for when it surrounded by the right numbers and is in a positive state. it is in a positive state when you both know that you are willing to try something new without worrying what the outcome will be. follow your intuition and be willing to expand your consciousnesses - all will be well then. this could be a reconnection with a person who was in your life, that you didn't see coming so take a chance or be open to starting again in an existing relationship.

in an imbalanced connection, you'll find that it is one of those "right person, wrong time" types of vibes. but if it were the right person, there would be no wrong time. they might constantly challenge you - you might come to cling to them and fear the dynamic changing between you both. they might also try to push you out of your comfort zone - you should never feel coerced in a relationship to do what makes you uncomfortable.

that's all for today. like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic". button if you want to see a specific pac/pile next! if you'd like my input on how i read a specific card or what i like to ask my deck, feel free to use the ask button for that as well.

click here for the masterlist

click here for more web of wyrd related posts

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices.

© a-d-nox 2024 all rights reserved

#astrology #astro community #astro placements #astro chart #astrology tumblr #tarot art #tarotdaily #tarot witch #daily tarot #rider waite tarot #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #wyrd web #web of wyrd #matrix of destiny #matrix of fate

[promisinininining]

logos operator file #3 translation for those who want to know what went down in the chair sliding tournament

Frankly, the elite team of Rhodes Island's Operators are an unapologetically weird bunch. I'm not saying that there aren't other weirdos on Rhodes Island besides them, or that their abilities are lacking in any way. As I explained, Doctor, the Elite Operators are not necessarily unparalleled powerhouses, but they are the vanguard of Rhodes Island: a group of people who have sworn to dedicate everything to their ideals, and who have managed to fulfil that oath despite the most challenging situations.

Crossing the line between life and death to embrace a more equal vision. 

As for the "weirdo" comment... Doctor, you've worked with most of them, so of course you understand. Let me add a few details: Blaze has her own critical notifications in the medical department, because she goes into shock two to three times every time she participates in high-intensity combat; Stormeye is prone to getting carried away when fighting a strong opponent and requires someone like Sharp, who lives by "never do more than one has to", to tear him away from the line of fire; Misery's dazzling dagger-juggling skills actually have nothing to do with his Originium Arts, but inspired by a bet he made with Outcast; Mechanist's motor oil foam latte art coffee does exist, and Mantra has a penchant for quietly keeping tabs on the ship's gossip...

As for Logos? Ha, I think there are plenty of people in Rhodes Island who remember that one chair sliding race. Unfortunately, Doctor, you weren't there, but as you guessed, the tournament was instigated and organised by him. They first conducted group and round-robin matches in the workshop, then moved the finals to the training ground. The night before the finals, Logos and Mechanist made some unauthorised modifications to the operator training venue. When the contestants came to the track the next day, they found that they were actually going to face a brutal obstacle course with sharp turns and steep slopes. 

Blaze was the first to be eliminated. She relied on heat to accelerate at the start, which burned the plastic on the wheels; Mechanist, who had confidently proclaimed victory before the match, was swept off the track by a trap he had placed himself on the very first U-turn; Misery was lost in thought while going at a constant pace, and ultimately failed to get out of the way in time, causing Outcast, who was leading by one lap, to rear end him... As the seeded racers were eliminated one by one, Ace came in to take on Logos and Scout in the final showdown. Just as they were rushing towards the finish line neck-to-neck, Amiya walked in, Kal'tsit following behind her. Ace immediately exited the track, but Logos and Scout apparently didn't notice the hush that fell over the crowd that had, just moments before, been cheering loudly. All in all, Logos was crowned the winner, Scout in second, and there was no third place. Under Kal'tsit's supervision, and for the first time as Rhodes Island's leader, Amiya delivered a "stern" talk to the person responsible—Logos.

You see, the Elite Operators are just a bunch of weirdos. 

Joining the ranks of these weirdos is actually much easier than most people think. Becoming an Elite Operator doesn't require going through any assessment process. You only need to be officially recognised by Amiya, and a meeting of Elite Operators. If all goes well, you will receive a gift—a strange little key which is the only thing that can open the door in the workshop. It is only after you pass through that door when you truly become an Elite Operator of Rhodes Island. 

In case you didn't know, Doctor, each key is created by Logos himself, and it can't be stolen. As such, the keys are also seen as a token by Elite Operators. Should the bearer never come back, Logos will be the first to know, and trigger them to self-destruct, leaving no residue. 

Logos, and each of the weirdos I mentioned, knew very well the price of their "ideals".

——■■■

#mis-translates #unofficial #arknights

[sad-outsider]

Why I didn't like the ending of R&R. Part 1. The broken logic of the world

So, as the title suggests, I read TGT and I didn't like the ending. And in this post I will try to explain why I personally (like, probably, many others) was disappointed by this ending. Let's break it down point by point, sit down, this is going to be a long post. Be careful, there is a lot of irony, sarcasm and Russian phraseological units here.

№1 Third amplifier violated the logic of the world in the most blatant way. Three times.

Not that this is something new, because the author violates the logic of his own world in literally every book, but here it is most striking (I have not read beyond Six of Crows, so correct me if there are even more outrageous violations of the lore).

First of all, the Mal amplifier is bullshit. He touched other Grisha more than once, and damn it, he slept with Zoya, if he was an amplifier he should have been revealed as such long ago. And even if we assume that, they say, he is all so unique and intended exclusively for Alina, it still does not make sense, because they also touched each other many times both before Alina was revealed as the Sun Summoner, and after. She should have understood long ago. So this is piano in the bushes (Deus ex machina) number one.

Secondly, transferring Alina’s powers to other people is complete nonsense. If her powers were taken away, then she should have died, and not just become an ordinary otkazat'sya. We have been told more than once that the power of the Grisha is their integral part, which nourishes them and, if it is not used, the Grisha begins to get sick, and subsequently may even die. So I’ll ask again: WHY IS ALINA ALIVE? I NEED ANSWERS, LEIGH!

But as if this wasn't enough, the powers of the Sun Summoner were ✨magically transferred✨ to a bunch of ordinary people. How? These people, apparently, either acquired an additional gene for themselves, or grew a new organ… Yeah, of course, I readily believe it🙄. Insanity is getting stronger, in general.

And third, the apogee of delirium - the resurrection of Mal. So, if I understand correctly, he came back from the dead because he died as an amplifier. Yeah, great, but I just have one question (actually more than one, but let’s put that aside, it’s ✨magic✨ after all): why didn’t the Darkling resurrect with him? He is also an amplifier, and even from the same bloodline, why did he remain dead? It's not even a piano made of bushes anymore, it's a whole FUCKING ORGAN! But that's not even the worst, I'll save the worst for last.

To be continued in Part 2…

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #ruin and rising #anti leigh bardugo #Alina Starkov #malyen oretsev #the darkling #anti mal oretsev #anti malina

[sunnywalnut]

I had a dream last night. A Good Omens dream. So naturally, I have to share it with the Masses. Because I'm a pathetic wet cat who deserves attention.

Our friends Crowley and Aziraphale were there of course, and as was I. For some reason. I was like their child (or rather, I was in the place of Adam, where they protected and cared for me, but I was still an adult. As I am now). Not the oddest thing that's happened in my dreams so I'll let it slide. So here I am hanging out with my Ineffable Dads after calling off Armageddon and what do they do to celebrate? Drink, of course.

So we're sitting in the bookshop, Crowley on the couch, Aziraphale in his chair, and I am perched up on the desk. Drinking some floral wine that tastes a lot like chamomile tea(I don't drink. But I do like chamomile tea). And Crowley gets stupid drunk.

Two bottles later, he jolts up from the couch like a vampire from his coffin, turns to look at Aziraphale (who isn't phased by this behavior), and immediately is glued to his side.

I'm talking sprawled out across his back, head hanging over his shoulder, slurring drunkenly and his arms wrapped around his waist. And he's just cooing at him.

"You know I love you, 'ngel?"

He reaches out a long, thin finger, tracing one of Aziraphale's curls, making the angel chuckle. "You're so pretty, Angel."

He kisses his cheek and neck and the side of his face, earning full belly laughter from the angel who is reaching up to pull him closer.

"Crowleyyyy!"

"Shhh, Angel, lemme kiss you-"

Drunker than a dog, Crowley grabs for his angel and continues to press hasty kisses across his face, Aziraphale giggling all the while. I just shake my head and turn to my tea(because apparently it was tea, just in a wine glass to make me feel included. Aziraphale's idea, I'm sure. The tea. I think the wine glass was Crowley. Seems like a Crowley thing to do).

Allowing the two lovebirds to do what they do, fully amused and proud of them for finally being able to openly express affection, I look up to find Aziraphale heading out the door- wearing Crowley on his back like a booze-drenched exoskeleton. They're both giggling like a bunch of school children, Aziraphale shushing Crowley but only ending up giggling even louder himself. They're trying to sneak past me. I let them.

I follow about ten steps after these Ineffable Bastards, the streetgoers of Soho giving them and me questionable looks but I just wave them off. Because I suppose this was when everyone was revived. Because of course it was. We stagger down to The Dirty Donkey and Aziraphale drops his demon in a barstool, fixes the lapels of his jacket, and proudly announces that he would like an "Angel Shot" the bartender, Maggie, looks concerned.

She immediately puts away the glass she was polishing, leaning in close.

"Are you alright, Honey?"

Aziraphale stares, eyes glazed over with both booze and confusion.

"Pardon?"

"Do you need me to call someone?"

Crowley reaches over to grab Aziraphale's thigh, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. He forgets, though, and kisses underneath his ear to make up for it. Aziraphale starts giggling again.

It's clear to everyone now, including Maggie, that he was in no real danger. It was a simple mistake. And they had pregamed. She's giggling as well, but trying to hide it.

"Alright, what can I get you two?"

They decide on some sort of almost clear drink in a shot glass, three for each. I have a mocktail. More drunken giggling and flirting. Crowley has found his way pressed up against Aziraphale's side yet again. Everyone is delighted and amused by this behavior, seeing as not one person has seen him this relaxed since.... Well, since forever. They let it be.

The night ends with me walking them both home while they stumble against one another, laughing about something or another that I couldn't even begin to decipher. And we wander on home. To the bookshop.

Aziraphale wanders in, miracling(miracleing?) the door open after the key proves to be stubborn with the lock. Crowley follows. Is this normal? I don't know. Aziraphale doesn't seem to be worried, though, so I allow it. Not much I can do about it, honestly. It's not like Crowley would let me.

I follow them in, pushing stacks of books back in place as Crowley's wandering arms threaten to knock them down, the statues nearly ready to fall. I give him a warning glare. He does not respond.

Both angel and demon wander up the stairs and into a bedroom with rich yellow walls and the curtains drawn. The bed is untouched, pale yellow pillows peeking out from underneath off-white sheets. Crowley makes a start for it. Aziraphale hovers at the doorway, then follows. They both crawl into their respective sides, as if by impulse. Crowley on the left, Aziraphale on the right. Only Aziraphale has the mind to miracle himself into nightclothes. Crowley is already asleep.

Seeing as they both are no longer in danger of harming themselves, I turn out the light and close the door. Off to my own place, I would believe. Except I wouldn't know. I woke up.

Still not entirely sure why my dreams are fanfics now but you know what, I'm not complaining. It was cute as hell.

#gomens #good omens #crowley #crowly x aziraphale #crowly good omens #azirowley #azicrow #aziracrow #aziraphale #dreams #fanfic #domestic fluff #why are my dreams fanfics now?? #i have no idea

[literaila]

a virus 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: 

“did you try turning it off and then back on?” 

“three times.” 

warnings: peter is an asshole, reader is an asshole (a great paring i assure you)

a/n: this was a work in progress. and now it is out on the internet. because i need storage and you need some of my sarcastic comments 

*

in all fairness, you were a little bit stressed. 

and by a little bit stressed—depending on a paper for 30% of your grade without any internet. 

or a computer that worked. 

and of course, the lack of any manners. 

"did you try turning it off and then back on?" 

if you were going to try anything it would be banging your head against your desk until you properly erased any record of your existence.

"three times." 

the man--who by the way, left you on hold for five minutes--hums. "what'd you say you were doing?" 

"trying to write a research paper." 

"on sketchy websites?" 

you take a deep breath. you try and avoid yelling at this man through the microphone. “from a bunch of google approved websites,” you say, voice tight. “what can i do to get it working?” 

“it sounds like you have a virus.” 

“great," you drawl because this conclusion had not occurred to you. "what do i do?” 

the man is silent for about thirty seconds, and then: 

“i can get you an appointment to bring your computer in sometime in the next week.” 

“what can i do to get it working tonight?” 

there’s a quick huff of air. “do you know how to code?” 

“are you serious?” 

“that was rhetorical.” 

if this man didn’t sound completely nonchalant, about the age of a fifty-year-old—meaning your age—and had any more attitude than he does, you would hang up. 

if your paper wasn’t due tomorrow, you would hang up. 

“i need my computer tonight.” 

“you could try walmart.”

“aren’t you supposed to be helpful?” 

the man laughs like this is funny. “sorry, i’m a bit out of practice. most people don't click on the link a random ‘banker’ sends them.” 

“i didn’t click on anything.” 

“you have a virus.”

“i’m really bad with computers. i’m pretty sure i’m incapable of clicking anything.” 

“apparently not.” 

“can't you do anything? you’re smart.” 

“you assume that because i got this job that i’m smart?” 

“okay. you’re supposed to know what to do.” 

“i could fix it,” this man says, “if i was there.” 

he also hates you.

“okay, great. just tell me what to do.” 

���i already asked if you knew how to code…” 

you groan and fall over in your seat. 

he laughs again. “you could ask for an extension.” 

“an extension,” you repeat because you obviously haven't thought of that. 

you obviously don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. 

“for whatever you’re working on.” 

“because that’s how life works. are you going to ask for an extension to fix my computer?” 

“im just saying.” 

“no. i already got the extension.” 

“you already got the extension?”

this man thinks you’re an idiot. 

he’s also got a very nice voice. 

“there were some… personal problems. my professor was nice enough to make an exception.” 

“but not nice enough to do it twice?” 

“it feels wrong to ask.” 

“did it feel wrong to put it off until tonight?” 

you pause. looking for an argument that isn’t there. “you need to work on your customer service.” 

he laughs. “so i’ve been told.” 

and you stop. 

you think about all of the possible solutions to this problem. 

and the man who you have subjected to your irresponsibility. 

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing that he can hear. “i’m being rude. i’m just stressed.” 

“it’s okay. you’d be surprised how many people yell at me each night.”

“i don’t think i would." 

he laughs. his voice is smooth and warm. a bed to fall into and sleep until eternity. “what’re you working on, again?“

“a research paper.” 

“is it done? are you just editing? because there are libraries open all night.” 

“no. i thought it was, but there’s a… it doesn’t matter. and it's cold.” 

“you have more research to do?” 

“yeah.”

“is it a lot?” 

“no,” you say. “not really.” 

there’s a brief pause. 

he might’ve hung up already. 

but then the man whispers, “okay.”

you wait. 

“what should i look up?”

*

"wikipedia." 

"just click on it." 

"this is how you got the virus." 

you sigh again, fingers tapping restlessly on your desk. 

you've been sitting here for the past twenty minutes, waiting for this boy to listen to you. 

he hasn't, of course. it turns out that you both share the lack of social ability. because you can't seem to be nice to him, and in return, he understands none of this. 

but he's pleasent enough. he laughs at your absurdity instead of mocking it. 

and you've already thanked him more than once. 

"i wouldn't have a virus if someone was better at his job--" 

"--that's a strange thing to say to someone helping you--" 

"now, will you just read me the quote?" 

"you're stressed about a research paper in which you're using wikipedia as one of your sources?" 

"i'm stressed about failing out of college." 

"that's not really how it works," the boy says because he's infuriating. 

but also nice. because he's been sitting here arguing with you and still hasn't hung up. 

even when you threatened to steal his computer. 

nonetheless. 

"i know how it works. what does it say?" 

"it says 'find another source.'" 

you are silent. you type a million curse words into the text on your phone. swear to whatever god is laughing at you right now that you will get them back. 

swear that you're going to go to bed right now and face the actual consequences of procrastination. 

or you'll fake your death. either way. 

"i'm not going to help you bomb an essay," the boy scoffs. "i'm gonna go look at the websites linked." 

"or you could just do what i say." 

"who's the one with the computer here?" 

"...what does it say?" 

*

"i disagree." 

"you disagree on the undeniable brilliance of footloose?" 

you spin around in your chair, smile slightly unnerving. "i disagree that you have good opinions." 

"says she who has broken her computer." 

this boy has a warm voice. he has a slightly teasing tone, even when he's attempting to be serious. and in the short time that you've known him, you've already picked up on the sardonic voice. different from his sarcasm. 

"the internet broke my computer." 

"the internet is a very noble place. it would never. now, scammers on the other hand..." 

"i understood about three percent of what you just said." 

he laughs, microphone muffled as something moves in the background. "okay, so you hate good movies. noted. what do you think about good tv shows?" 

"like what?" 

"um," he pauses. "friends." 

"i really hope you didn't just say that to me." 

"there's a reason that it's popular." 

"that reason would be conventional attractiveness combined with stupidity." 

"or that it's really good." 

"you know, i know a really good doctor. he can help you." 

any research paper that you may or may not have almost finished is forgotten. 

instead, you've been talking to this boy--the boy who refused to help you fix your computer and instead has monopolized this conversation completely--for the last hour. 

about movies and school and winter break. leaving and never coming back. 

anything, really. 

he is surprisingly easy to talk to. easy to laugh at. 

and, of course, you're completely delirious because it's four am and you have a paper due in the morning. but, at this current moment, it doesn't seem to matter. 

you want coffee. 

"maybe you should give him a call," this boy says. "not for me. just... to chat." 

"i am very mentally stable," you say, thank you very much. 

"you threatened me earlier." 

"an un-rare occasion, i'm sure." 

the boy laughs because there's something funny about that. "i'm very likable." he mocks your tone. 

"again with the opinions..." 

"i can't just not share them." 

"you can actually. you really can." 

and you, apparently, can't hang up. 

*

"no." 

"wow. and i thought we were getting close." 

"as usual, you're wrong." 

he laughs. "this is ironic, coming from you." 

"i'm hanging up." 

"you still need to finish your research." 

you scoff, throwing another piece of paper at the wall. 

it's not a waste, merely art. 

"i just have to finish the citation. easy." 

"that is definitively the hardest part." 

"maybe for you, tech guy."

he laughs again, softer this time. 

you've both gotten quieter. laughter is a mere whistle in the wind. 

and your throat is a bit sore. 

you've been talking to this man for four hours.

"how long are you supposed to be on the line?" 

"it's available until two in the morning." 

"it's almost six." 

"yeah." 

"you've just been sitting here talking to me?" 

"well, it's not really worth it to go to bed anymore." 

"yeah." 

something lingers. 

"i'm peter, by the way." 

peter, you think. you wonder nothing about him. you think nothing of the name. 

you think about walking around campus until you accidentally run into someone. 

"y/n," you say. 

he echoes your name back to you. 

*

part two

my masterlist here.

tags:   @moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon   @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff​

#peter parker #tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter x you #andrew peter parker #Andrew!Spiderman #andrew garfield #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew!spiderman imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter smut #tasm!fluff #tasm!peter x reader #spider-man #the amazing spider-man #The Amazing Spider Man #the amazing spider man imagine #marvel

[muffinsin]

Hello muffin. Had a really stupid idea I just had to share. How about all three of the sisters having a crush on Donna and trying to seduce her but failing epically. Just three homicidal extroverted lunatics trying to seduce a rather shy introvert in all the wrong ways. With Donna thinking they are threatening her or something. Angie and the others all watching and not saying anything as the comedic potential is high. I don't know just complete misunderstandings all around. What do you think?

Thinking this has full on meme potential XD. Wishing I could draw to make art out of the chaotic scenarios that could stem from this lmaoo🙊

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

Bela

Now, Bela has always been encouraged to take what she wants by her mother

Naturally, this must include Donna, right?

Now, there is a fair share of maidens at the castle hoping to woo the eldest sister

Not that she has time for any of this

She always turns them down, though uses their failed attempts as teachings

What’s so hard? An invitation to a date, then talking of shared interests. Piece of cake!

Never has she attempted to woo someone. But, she has an ego. She knows she’ll do amazing

What could go wrong?

Well, for one that Bela enters breaks into the Beneviento gardens in her search of the lord without really knowing what causes could follow

She seems to have forgotten that Donna is, despite her timid manner, quite powerful. And so is her entire region

There is a reason Mother wouldn’t let her and her sisters hunt in this region…

Disoriented, almost high on pollen, and absolutely out of it by the flowers planted nearly everywhere, Bela swarms face first into Donna, who believes she truly did experience a heart attack just then

Slurry words fall from her lips, something alongside dinner?

Donna is sweating under her veil. Is the huntress before her threatening her?

Will she be dinner?!

She is overly alert of Bela’s sharp teeth peeking out from behind her lips. As well as the scent of blood surrounding her

Will she be her next victim?

Apparently not, for Bela falls face first into her, the pollen of various cadou-infested flowers entirely too much

Maybe she should have asked to come. Maybe then Donna would have told her about a safer passage through the gardens, without the many flowers

Nonetheless, Donna is almost completely still under her, having been too lost in thought to catch Bela

Or well; catch her she did…with her body

The blonde quite literally falls on top of her, her unconscious, heavy body on the dollmaker

Of course, Donna is too shy to attempt to wake the sleeping blonde

She considers reaching out to Angie, but merely hears a snicker in return. Of course she’d find this funny

Is this her fate now?, the shy dollmaker wonders, with her clothes dirtied by mud and breath smelling of blood and toothpaste blown in her face with each exhale coming from Bela’s mouth

Cassandra

She’s always been intrigued by Donna, always

However- she isn’t the best at wooing someone. She wants a person, she takes them. That’s how she plays

Also, most practically throw themselves at her, if they don’t run away

So- how to woo a lady of the village?

She doesn’t think on it for too long, instead goes for what she thinks will work best: gifts!

Now, some might consider flowers or chocolate sweet gifts. Not Cassandra. They bore her to death

Surely Donna will agree!

Well…

When Donna awakens to find a bunch of foxes trapped in a cage in front of her house, she isn’t too happy

Quickly, she releases the animals and watches them scurry off

The next day, its pigeons, ten of them, their small legs tied to a stick they can’t seem to lift

Donna, with her heart beating worriedly, is quick to undo the string connecting them and watches as they fly off

What is happening?

Hmm, Cassandra thinks, it seems the doll maker isn’t fond of living things

No matter. Cassandra is thrilled by this!

No problem at all! Donna will love her next gift!

Well, not quite…instead the dollmaker is nearly petrified from her shock and fear when she opens her front door again and finds a large, dead wolf out front

It’s huge, and would make for a lot of lei in the village. The sight of it has her feel a little nauseous though

Then, it’s dead rats dropped at her windows at random times during the day

When one of them turns out to be alive, the otherwise mute dollmaker lets out a yelp, and quickly brings it to safety

After, it’s a whole lycan! She takes forever, even with the help of her dolls, to get rid of it

She screams hoarsely when she opens her garden door once and is face to face with the sharp teeth of a varcolac, dead with its mouth open and fangs bared for her

She shivers, though- she can make some good fortune on it

(Which she normally doesn’t need, though she likes to get herself flowers and materials on her own at times)

Yet the worst is to come, when she opens her front door one morning and finds a dead black bear out front

The poor thing is still warm…

Are these all threats?!, she wonders

Angie is barely any help, instead points out writing at the stomach of the large animal

She dares turn it over to read Cassandra’s message carved into the poor thing’s belly:

“I’ve got my eye on you”

Donna gulps

Daniela

She has been told she is delusional before. Once or twice, maybe

Ah, and what a silly thing to say it is!

Until…Daniela falls for the mysterious lady of the mountain and waterfall, lady Beneviento

Naturally, Donna must love her too, the youngest Dimitrescu daughter is under the impression everyone does

She just knows Donna is blushing under her veil when she sees her!

She goes with traditional courting methods

Flowers, dinner invitations, kisses, affection…

When Daniela appears behind Donna randomly as she works outside her house, she jumps so hard she drops her small hand shovel into the waterfall

She wonders, if this keeps up, will she fall down as a whole one time?

Daniela finds this hilarious. She giggles happily at it

Donna grasps her own chest, as though to catch her breath and stop panting

Daniela’s wild and fast movements do nothing to calm her

Then, flowers are thrust into her hand and a kiss is placed to her veiled cheek

Daniela giggles, her hands cupping Donna’s cheeks through the garment covering her face

“Don’t worry, my sweet, I’ll be back!”, she coos, teases

Then, Daniela swarms off, and leaves the dollmaker flustered, confused, and partially scared

This happens every day

Sometimes, Donna plants the flowers given to her. Sometimes she puts them in vases

They’re beautiful, even if Daniela’s wild nature has her on edge

She anticipates her visit every day, and yet is never prepared

Sometimes Daniela appears in her greenhouse. She doesn’t know how she comes in there

One time, she drops down from the roof when Donna steps outside

She nearly gives the doll maker a heart attack! Donna has instinctively called all her dolls…

And Angie stares and huffs as she watches Donna freeze when another kiss is just pressed to her cheek, while Daniela drops a crown made of leaves on top of her covered head…with her bare hands

…Donna wonders if the redhead knows its nettle leaves..ah, Daniela is bound to notice sometime. She swarms off before Donna can warn her- not that she would’ve been brave enough to speak up anyway

Often, her cheeks adapt a pink colour under the veil, and Donna absolutely panics whenever Daniela decides to randomly show affection

When she wraps her arms around the dollmaker one time as she kisses her cheek goodbye, Donna is certain this is the end

The grip is tight on the petite dollmaker, and yet she survives

Somehow

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #weird anon

[kalims]

‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "it's high-school and it feels like i have a freaking harem."

high school otome au,

parts. one , two , three , remake

characters. epel, ace, deuce, jamil, leona, riddle, malleus, jade, floyd, silver, neige, ???.

cw. set in another universe, some things are canon to the original twst timeline but not all, gender neutral reader, pretend we are smart.

note. usually I don't go past 8 characters for twst but this will be an exception. anyways what the fuck am I doing in my life LOL

✦ you — the new transfer student whose on a scholarship personally assigned by crowley himself. your presence alone strikes great curiosity to students. but when you're clearly surrounded by many guys full of different, colorful reputations they don't suppose they have a chance to become your freind. or another?

✦ riddle rosehearts — the student council president who seems to terrify every other student. he's strict, he's an honor student, he has authority, he's riddle rosehearts. the one student that gets classrooms running to fix themselves and since you were new you weren't spared the mercy when he caught you snacking on a pair of tarts in the middle of a class, promptly demanding you come with him as the class sends you mental prayers. you learn he's quite lonely when you see him sit by himself in lunch, his other friend named trey seemed to be absent. he looks suprised when you sit next to him and offer him a tart. the conversation goes smoothly, people stare when he butters up. and now you're given more passes to some rule breaches compared to other students.

✦ epel felmier — your childhood sweetheart. you've known epel ever since you were in diapers, both your mothers are great friends and teases you both about marriage to each other. it became more clear and embarrassing the more you grow up. it's a nice thought really but with all your studies going on, you don't suppose you have the time to date. one day epel starts complaining about how his new upperclassmen moaned about beauty and his 'soft face' you merely laugh and tell him that you'd always be glad to see him as 'your man' (did you miss his red face, or his hopeful eyes?)

✦ jamil viper — a junior whose a regular on the basketball team. you officially meet jamil when trein had him volunteer into tutoring you, you die a little on the inside when you see the look on his face. it's stoic, and relaxes but you can't can't but see that there's a rageful storm behind his eyes. he doesn't talk much, but when he does his voice was so beautiful that you can't help but blurt out that it is. he looks scandalized, and shocked. as if no one ever told him so. he closes his eyes and hopes you don't hear his heart beating loudly. for once he hopes that the gods will give him a chance to have this one thing. (if you ask he'll never introduce you to kalim)

✦ ace trapolla — your roommate, he's apart of the basketball team. crowley had graciously given you an apartment to stay in. it's rather old, definitely dusty compared to the other dorms but it definitely works. you're only slightly upset when he tells you that you're to dorm with two other people. it's dead in the night when the door abruptly slams open, you grab a broom to defend yourself in case it's am intruder and shove it forward when you hear a creak. it hits a boy with a sweaty forehead and the familiar basketball uniform. you apologize profusely when he mumbles about you being the new roommate.

✦ deuce spade — your other roommate. other than ace he's apparently striving to be an honor student like the council president. you learn that he has a mother than he so dearly loves that he'd be easily labeled as 'mommy's boy' and his aggressive, delinquent side comes out when a bunch of jocks bumps into the both of you coming from a trip to the local store for some eggs. the collision makes them fall and break, when the jocks laugh deuce starts clenching his fist so hard that you can see me veins behind it... aaand he socks one of them in the face. (too bad he looks even more upset when he learns they weren't fertilized.)

✦ leona kingscholar — a player who ever rarely appears in class, you only actually see him whenever there's soccer tournaments held. he's unsurprisingly arrogant, a trait you knew to expect when it comes to athletes. he told you he'd take your teeth if you didn't apologize after accidentally trampling his sandwich. for the next following weeks he makes you run around as his errand runner and you've no choice but to comply lest he actually takes a tooth. now you're basically a few months after meeting him he just starts approaching you in the middle of a game and asks "well? did I do good?" the crowd watches in amazement when he doesn't leave immediately (to probably go nap back at his dormitory as he usually does.)

✦ malleus draconia — a mysterious man you meet in the park you tend to relax in. it's abandoned, rather eery but all the well comforting. apparently you're not the only one who found it. malleus is a tall guy, he's easy to spot in broad daylight, and hard to discern when it's in the middle of the night. he blends in with the shadows easily but it's like he's meant to thrive in the sunlight. you both eventually end up sitting on a bench together, not saying anything. the silence is enough to comfort both of you. you're pleasantly suprised when you see him in school the very next day, confused when everyone scatters when you walk in the hallways. half aware of the tall guy following closely behind you with a happy smile.

✦ jade leech — the guy whom you believed to be your one true love, you never really approached him. only casting aside fleeting looks. he's tall, a gentleman, knows how to cook, and a beautiful face. well you've only come to know that he's apparently sadistic when he's led you on many times before treating you horribly. you witnessed him dump you without any regard and leave you heartbroken. you're not happy when he displays a sudden interest in you once again. does he really think a bunch of flowers (your favorite) is gonna make you all good again?

✦ floyd leech — the brother of your ex-boyfriend. he knows of your feelings and uses it for his own entertainment, usually like threatening to expose your feelings whenever he feels like it. he's hands down one of the most terrifying guys on the campus, his tendency to have moods makes him greatly feared. there's more and more menacing rumors about him but it's strange because you never really see him angry anymore. (the students itch to tell you that floyd responds positively to your presence and any trces leading to his angry mood completely disappears.)

✦ silver — a junior whose on the horse riding club. you muse that he resembles somewhat a disney princess, he's beautiful, the animals come scurrying to him whenever he sleeps, and everything he does is like the forces of nature itself shift to make himself look more ethereal than he already is. he's quiet, a little intimidating on the front since he looks quite strong. but you realize it's not really true when you see him shyly present you a flower as you both laid on the grass side by side. the moment is interrupted by a green haired boy who starts screaming about club activities.

✦ neige leblanche — a flowery boy from the rivaling school full of honorary, righteous students. neige is a celebrity, you never really expected to meet him not befreind him at all. true to the rumors, he really is a good natured, pure hearted boy who wishes nothing but the best for others. including you, but you're once again. still unkownst to the fact that he believes that there is nothing that might ever reach your greatness. he thinks that no one could ever be good enough to have you.. but alas, he can't really say that when he hasn't met everyone. the least he can think of is himself..

✦ ??? — he witnesses. he was always the second choice, you already have a best freind, epel. so he can't assume the position of yours when you already have one. he's witnessed and witnessed, boys falling for you left and right when you're so oblivious to some of their feelings. you're so lovely, so charming, so beautiful. you're so perfect that he wants to make sure that you're nothing less. he wonders when you'll finally notice him when everyone else never intentionally, or unintentionally ignored his presence. they're full of envy, admiration and lots of else but you have no idea who he is, and he will make sure you do, he will make sure you know what he is capable of, what lengths he's going to do for you, and what he will do with you.

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed ! #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst fluff #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #jade leech x reader #jade leech #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #neige leblanche #neige leblanche x reader #silver x reader

[dutchdread]

Why do you think SE celebrated other ff couples like Zidane and Garnet on ,for example, their website, but not Cloud and Tifa. In fact other ff couples have been confirmed as exactly that but not Cloud and Tifa. Why do you think that is?

Well, there are a bunch of ways to answer this since the question is very vague to me, so first I gotta ask: What makes you think Cloud and Tifa aren't celebrated?

Not pictured: Cloud and Tifa getting celebrated apparently.

FFIX is my favorite game of all time but I can't think of a single time where Garnet and Zidane got "celebrated". I'm sure you can find times if you go out and look, but the same goes for Cloud and Tifa. When I think about them I can remember countless times they got "celebrated" in a multitude of ways. For instance, we have SE consistently liking Cloti posts:

Or bringing up things like "words aren't the only thing that tell people what you're thinking".

Or giving them matching outfits:

Hell, I could argue that the very existence of Advent children is a "celebration" of Cloti, seeing as it was originally envisioned as just a short story about Cloud, Tifa, and the kids.

How is Traces of two pasts talking about how Tifa fell in love with Cloud not a celebration? How is "2,000 Gil Leading to a Hero" talking about Cloud wanting to become Tifas "special existence" not a celebration?

And this is ignoring of course that essentially the entire Remake has felt like a celebration of Cloud and Tifas romance to the point where it has been more central to the story than even the romance of Squall and Rinoa was in FFVIII. So when you say they're not celebrated, what do you mean? Do you mean that they're usually described as childhood friends in relationship charts and descriptions and the like when characters like Zidane and Garnet are not?

Because if so it makes me wonder why Zidane and Garnet are described as "important person" rather than "favors" (the same term often used to describe Tifa btw). It also makes me wonder why Beatrix and Steiner are merely described as "friendly", why Beatrix is described as "loyal to Brahne", and a bunch of different things. Fact is that often times these relationship charts merely describe the predominantly occurring relationship DYNAMIC during the story AS it is essential to the story, rather than exactly describing the nature of the relationships at the conclusion of the story for the sake of shippers. Which is why we have stuff like this:

Even though Wakka and Lulu literally end up raising a baby. This is also why the relationship chart for Advent Children only lists Aerith in relationship to Cloud as "sense of guilt", because while obviously Aerith is more than just an object of guilt, the fact that Cloud feels guilt towards her is what's actually important to understanding the events of the movie.

So when we have stuff like this it doesn't tell us that three girls favor Cloud, but Cloud doesn't favor any of them, or that all three girls are equal, or that the game doesn't confirm anything. It just means that the predominant dynamic we see played out in the story is of them favoring him. The actual objective confirmation of Clouds feelings then come from the myriad of quotes we have where it's stated that in the lifestream it is revealed that Cloud and Tifas feelings....are mutual. So even if it were the case that Garnet and Zidane were described as mutually favoring each other. That would not be something that's to be wondered at. Zidane and Garnets main dynamic right from the start is that of a girl and a boy who has a crush on her. It's neither a reveal not a change of dynamic, but what matters FOR THE STORY is that they're important to each other. With Cloud and Tifa the fact that Cloud has always been in love with her has historically always been presented as a twist, even in Rebirth while it's clear that Cloud is in love with Tifa the notion that this has gone on since childhood, along with the depth and the fact that it's the primary cause of Clouds internal strife, is still something of a reveal, and you generally avoid revealing important twists in books that essentially discus the state of a games story as it is during the game itself. The remake Ultimania doesn't spoil the exact nature of all the different Sephiroths, nor the exact nature of Aeriths knowledge, those are for part 3 to reveal. But even if none of that were true, and Square-enix absolutely refuses to "celebrate cloti", whatever that means, it is still kind of a moot point, because the unwillingness to explicitly confirm a ship is not the same as no ship being canon. As I've discussed at length in the following article: Link

Nomura : “AC is a piece of work made by Japanese people. In Hollywood movies, I think there is a tendency where the meaning of all the scenes have to be expressed clearly but, this isn’t something like that. With our work, the viewer is free to decide how they interpret or enjoy it. The staff has their own answers to all the scenes in the movie such as the angel statue that makes an appearance many times. But, even if someone who has watched it interprets it differently, then that is just another answer. I guess “comparing answers” with friends is one of the ways you can enjoy the movie. I think AC is a movie that makes those who have watched it, want to talk about it with others.“ ~FFVII AC Prologue Book

The reason they might not want to be too explicit about any specific ship might simply be that they don't want to deprive people of the pleasure of having their own interpretations. That doesn't mean that things aren't canon. After all: " The staff has their own answers to all the scenes". A sentiment that is again reflected in the following interview.

A straight forward path has Cloud ending up with Tifa, and there are no branching paths here. The game allows you leeway to project your own feelings onto it, but it doesn't actually change the story. The developers have their own interpretation, and that's the interpretation that's guiding the story. If YOU want to believe Cloud actually loves Barret, you can, there is nothing or no one stopping you......but they'll never get a kiss. Additionally, if we are to agree with the premise that Cloud and Tifa (and by extension Cloud and Aerith) aren't celebrated, then there is a corollary question to yours that should be asked as well. If both ships are valid, then why aren't they just both celebrated? Rather than not celebrating either ship....why not celebrate both? Make it explicit that that his a "choose your own waifu" game and Cloud genuinely loves whichever girl you want. Quintessential quintuplets probably is the most famous anime "love war" of the last few years, and it has 5 women vying for the same man, with one unambiguous winner. And yet, rather than the other 4 not getting any "celebration" the 5 are almost always portrayed as equal, all 5 of them often even wearing bridal gowns.

So why not Cloti and Clerith? Why doesn't Square enix celebrate Cloud and Aerith by putting both Cloud and Tifa, AND Cloud and Aerith on some official Couple page? Or hell, I'll do you one simpler.....why doesn't Square-enix celebrate both Cloti and Clerith by giving BOTH an optional Kissing scene? Answer? Because they're not both valid, because this is not a game with branching paths, it's a game where you end up with Tifa, but has in the past given you leeway to project your own incorrect interpretations onto it. But the interpretations are still incorrect, even if not outright corrected. And when telling the story properly requires those incorrect interpretations to be overruled, they will be, as shown by the following quote by Nojima.

"in FINAL FANTASY VII REMAKE, there will be much less room for player imagination. This fact will probably change the feel of the story considerably. People who know the original might not know quite how to take it. Such is the fear that I have. But I also have conviction. It should be possible to feel a much deeper connection to Cloud as you join alongside him"

Anyway, I'm too busy (and lazy) to spend too much time going around looking for more times that SE celebrated Cloti, but I think enigmaphenomenon already did that pretty well with the following article, so I'll link that as a nice resource: "Cloti Merchandise by Enigmaphenomenon"

Tl Dr; concerning celebrating Cloti.....Who got a kissing scene again? Oh yeah

#ffvii #cloti #ffvii rebirth #ffvii remake #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #ff7 #shipping

[sharp-edges]

yes it was the connor post I haven’t read that intently in ages

the connor post nonny is refering too

YESSSSSSS, i cant be normal about him because no one else is able to be normal about him, the part that gets me, that im being really abnormal about at this specific second is him and his family temporarily MOVING TO SWEDEN, when he was 15 so he could train.... that's not normal!!!!! he never had a normal teenage years, we will never have normal adult years, i need to wipe the worlds memory of him and send him to college for two semesters, i need him to throw up in the bushes outside a frat, i need him to regret taking an 8am, i need him to socialize with people who don't play hockey, i need him to be normal. i need the league to teach these kids to take hits, i need them to try and acclimate the kids who don't get sent to a farm team after getting drafted, how many fucking rookies need to get hurt, and take bad hits for the league to finally realize that they aren't doing well by them. how many more players need to use the nhlpa player assistance program before they realize that taking a bunch of children and signing them to multi year contracts and with a schedule that leaves you traveling and away from your non hockey friends and family for months on end is a recipe for unhealthy coping mechanisms, mary @pwhl-mybeloved said earlier that someone sent in 15 duplicate cards to get graded of a kid who isn't eligible for the draft until 2026, the era of social media is putting even more eyes on "generational talents" THIS QUOTE FROM EMILY KAPLAN AT ESPN

Bedard tries to stay out of public when he can, and as he gave me a tour in his off-roader SUV, bumping some top-40 music, it became apparent why. When he stopped at a red light, a car pulled up with four adults who recognized Bedard instantly. The driver honked and waved enthusiastically as the three passengers frantically fiddled with their phones to take photos. Bedard, clearly experienced with this exact scenario, politely smiled back. "There's a bit of buzz, and for me, it's kind of crazy to see some of the things and people I've been compared to," Bedard said. "It's a lot different getting recognized out and about. It's something I'm getting used to. It's supercool feeling the support. But you know ... I'm still a kid." He's understating the buzz.

^^^^^ HE WAS 17!!!!!!!! THE ENTIRE ARTICLE GUTS ME

he's too young!!!! we are putting children on too high of pedestals, we make children sign contracts with an organization that doesn't care, not about their physical health, not about their mental health, we are stuck perpetually dooming hundreds of children each fucking year.

people want to be angry at cutter gauthier because he "broke up" jamie and tz but i care that a child (okay hes 20 now… and was 19 when the tarde happened, and he was 18 when drafted) who informed the flyers back in MAY OF LAST YEAR, that he didn't want to sign, WAS DRAGGED THROUGH THE MUD!!!!! because the flyers dragged their heels for almost a year and wouldn't take his "im not signing" as an answer!

the fucking amazon tv show "focusing on 10-12 players" will never show any of this shit, the league wants to grow its audience and appeal to a younger and more female audience, but young people are smart, and more people are going to notice, cutter didn't break to mainstream audiences, but this fucking amazon show is going to bring a bunch of eyes, and those eyes are going to look at connor, because there is no fucking way he isnt going to be one of the players they focus on, the league isn't that stupid, and those new eyes are going to see what i see, and i won't be the only person walking round in circles mumbling about gifted children never adjusting.

#asks #anon #connor bedard #cutter gauthier #too i guess #this started out all hahah im abnormal about connor and ended with me screaming about the nhl lack of concern for its youngest players (or #any of their players for that matter)

[starry-blue-echoes]

Okay, I just got here. Sorry for intruding and I'm kind of freaking out about part 4 of Star Swap.

Because there are two Jotaros. Why is nobody talking about the fact that there are two Jotaros? Am I missing something??? 

Unless I am completely failing in Star Swap lore, in order to not become super convoluted and insane, a universe is localized to a Swap… probably? Anyway from what I understand three universes have an event happening in them and Star Swap is a series… except there's also an OLDER Jotaro here in Part 4! which would be the same Jotaro that experienced part 4 as Josuke! Which is causing problems in my brain.

… I was thinking it's either Joseph and Giono is the exception -Thanks to Hermit Purple Rrequiem- and swaps actually jumps across universes making Older Part 4 Jotaro have that Canon backstory.

…Or… hear me out..

 JoJo

 Specifically, Jotaro gets some of that Time Jumpy Amnesia and has not a single fucking clue what happened to himself.

JUST HIM 

No one else

He is the sole one that gets bonk with a forgot stick

For all Jotaro knows: he blacked out, got possessed, and went to Egypt. Everything went well. His mom got cured and people survived, but STILL. said person that possessed him made a bunch of friends and now Jotaro has to deal with them. HE has to rely on other people's information to figure out what the hell HAPPENED.

Jotaro still gets that Battle Experience in and gets those cryptic forgotten fog of memories from the trip But Yeah

Jotaro has no idea what happened to him when that guy was possessing him. Jotaro doesn't know! he doesn't remember shit!!! All people got is theories.

I have a lot of thoughts and this is probably not even an issue.ARGGGG

.. I'm here thinking that for The Star Swap parts 3 and 4 to connect in an interesting way is Memory Blockage or else Part 4 Older Jotaro would have to walk on fucking eggshells if something wasn't blocking his memories because if he talks or says anything that doesn't link up then he breaks time. Jotaro's fault for actively getting involved!

Probably. I don't know!!! I'm just thinking!!! 

you're correct, Parts 3 and 4 have been criminally neglected amongst all this chaos, so this is p e r f e c t

to clarify the universe shenanigans of everything: I've always been thinking that each "set" exists in its own universe. 1 and 6, 2 and 5, and then 3 and 4 all exist in their own sort of "pocket universe" just so we don't need to keep track of of all the inevitable changes and how they influence each other

that being said, funnily enough what you've brought up with Jotaro is REALLY close to what I've been imagining too!

Jotaro is So Fucking Lost when he wakes up back home. He feels like complete and utter shit and is covered in more bandages than he's ever had before. The last thing he remembers is his mom leaving after visiting him in the prison cell after he tried to shoot himself with Star Platinum

only...... when did Star Platinum have a name? When had it stopped being an evil spirit?

when had he stopped being scared of it?

Kakyoin and Joseph are of course INCREDIBLY worried by Jotaro's apparent and very sudden shift in personality. And of course, this panic only multiplies when they find they think Jotaro's stand has been changed as well. They immediately think it's a Stand attack......

but then Holly steps forward and denies this. That this is how Jotaro normally acts and more importantly, that she remembers seeing Star in the jail

now, technically this might be bending the rules a little bit, but I think it would be interesting to give Holly some..... memory weirdness. Maybe we can tie it into her Stand somehow, or maybe it's just For The Plot, but Holly has two distinct sets of memories before she collapsed from her illness

One where Jotaro comes home with her, quiet and awkward and open in a way he hadn't been since he was a child. And another where he refused to leave and shot himself in an attempt to goad a spirit hovering over his shoulder

this then raises the incredibly uncomfortable idea that the Jotaro they'd gone to Egypt with was the imposter. That there had been a fake in their midst the entire time and they never knew. Was he working with Dio? Another group? What was his goal? Why had he done it? And of course, the biggest question of all, where was Jotaro the entire time and why doesn't he remember?

because it's obvious Jotaro was somewhere. He has skills and knowledge he hadn't before. He's different, he's grown in some ways, but has receded in others

Electricity and loud sounds terrify him in a way that can't be described as simple fear

they do what they can to help and figure things out, but they can never find any leads. It actually during these investigations that Jotaro decides to start working with the Speedwagon Foundation on the side and "rekindles" his friendships with the Crusaders

(he finds himself drawn to Kakyoin at times. Or to be more specific, he's drawn to his Stand. The colors and shapes and eyes all feel so tantalizingly familiar, and sometimes he finds himself talking to the being as if expecting a response)

years go by, and the fog around his memories stays. It bothers him less as more time passes and he makes new memories with people who had a headstart on their relationship, but there's always a quiet niggling in the back of his mind about what could've happened

and then a decade later he finds a boy with a different face but identical Stand and temperament to match

#star swap #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #jjba part 3 #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #star platinum #jjba kakyoin #noriaki kakyoin #jjba holly #holly kujo #sb answers #angstaceanon