#had to make sure i was understanding how to stack things for perspective

[dandyshucks]

a couple little pose practices for tonight! (⌃ٹ⌃●)

#and a cube+cylinder+triangular prism i stacked as a quick brain check djdkdl #had to make sure i was understanding how to stack things for perspective #he's a wrasslin boy to me now dhdjdkl puttin that man into the ring every night to draw him JDJDKDL #i also attempted to do some pen doodles and my god. those are never seeing the light of day SBDJDML im so out of practice w pen 😭 #i used to draw exclusively in ballpoint pen for a yearish in highschool and I've lost all that ability since then apparently LOL #I'll keep working at it djdksl its good exercise for my brain to not be able to erase stuff #dandy.cmd #💜so good at being in trouble #doodlebug.png

[caffeine-n-andreneline]

SnV Qin Shi Huang || Ying Zheng/Fem!Reader

Warnings: First fic lol, historical inaccuracies, typical cannon violence, a kid with trauma and a wannabe therapist, Soulmate AU, slowburn(?), Warring States period-ish, JJK cross over kinda-ish, baby qin needs a hug, internalized misogyny.

Later that day, the diplomat's daughter decided to return to her chambers, and halfway through–encountered her ever so obnoxious older and only sibling. Michizane Satoru, the heir to the Michizane household.

Older by five years, the younger Michizanes' height barely reaches his staggering shoulders. This man child was an exact carbon copy of the patriarch. Although his childishness amplified tenfold.

You see, the girl has taken after her mostly after her mothers demeanor, cold, clinical and blunt–others also see her arrogant. Unlike his father whose appearance alone stood out like a sore thumb, may he be emphatic and literate, but he usually let pacifistic and people pleasing tendencies ahead of him as well.

Satoru was a cesspool, the worst combination of both, in her opinion.

"So, you've got an eye for a boy." The lanky teenager appeared from behind and leaned to her ear, causing her to turn her head from the source of his voice.

She continues to walk, making it seem like he didn't exist. As she does, Satoru begins blabbering words out of his mouth. Quickly catching up to the younger girl.

"Hey now, don't ignore me! I'll tell father you didn't bring me along while you're sneaking around!"

"It's not the fault of mine you slacked off and let me slip away." He was silent for a few seconds, unable to rebut and finally relenting to his defeat.

"I err–jeez fine. I see you've already taken care of that. But still, it's dangerous for you to be alone."

"I can defend myself quite alright, thank you very much." The younger Michizane sarcastically retorted back. While the older one playfully clutched a fist on his chest, in mock hurt.

"Ouch, Then what's the point of me being here then?"

"I question the same thing. How about we ask father once he's done with their meeting."

Soon enough, they stopped with their bickering. Thanks to her memory, unlike her brothers', they've arrived at their designated rooms quicker than expected. She entered hers, and much to her dismay, so did the other. She sighed under her breath, certain there is no escaping the blabbermouth.

She prepared a few stacks of paper along the compact ink powder and brushes she had bought along with her. Placing those to the round table in the middle of the room, the lanky man child plopped to her bed, and shut his eyes.

Now she had all the things she needed to start writing, and so wasted no time. It was a miracle for her that the brother of hers stopped his superficial chatter. Or so she thought.

"Seriously, pipsqueak, you're acting strange today. Don't you dare lie, I know that look on your face." He asked out of nowhere, luring his younger sibling to a prattle. And although wearing a bandage, her eyes twitched in annoyance.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're implying."

"Sure sure, whatever." He absentmindedly added.

It didn't take long for him to ask her again.

"What does he look like?" He arose from her bed, and trudged towards the table where she currently scribbled, tossing away the fact that she clearly didn't want to be disturbed yet he still did, anyway.

"Who?" She halted from writing, tilting her head. In Satoru's perspective, he could barely make out one or two characters from what she was writing. He's never been the one who has the passion for linguistics and leaning more towards mastering the arts of jujutsu.

"Don't play coy with me kid." His mouth curved onto a smirk, knowing full well he wouldn't leave her unless he was satisfied with her answers and knew the whole story. She could only sigh.

Poor girl. This was going to be a long day.

She couldn't lie to herself, however. It's no denying she finds him a little curious, and truly she got her eyes on him.

The sun had already fallen when Satoru decided to leave. And I am yet to be done. Usually before going to sleep, I've made the habit of writing about my day, where on each page, I write in a certain dialect, then another language in the next.

The wind was cold, the light from the lantern emanating the room, allowing me to jot down in the dark.

A gentle knock from the door drew my attention.

"May I come in?" I knew this voice quite well. Well at the least this time he was courteous enough to actually knock.

"Yes–you may, father."

He quietly slid the door, my eyes darting away to meet his gaze.

I see him holding a tray of porcelain tea cups, and a pot of what I assume is boiling water.

"What brings you here?" I said, reverting my attention to the papers. I could hear the light clinking of the tableware against the wooden table, as he made himself at home and sat beside me to take a peek at my work.

"Am I not allowed to visit my daughter, hm?" He said, placing his elbows to the table and his head above the back of his hands, tilting it slightly.

I close my eyes in expharation. My social battery drained. I'm not sure if I could deal with another white haired Michizane to a mindless chatter.

"If you're going to ask about–"

"Oh no, no. I'm not going to ask about that." Taking a handful of dried tea leaves, he started to brew a cup of tea. Though I didn't pay much attention to it, after a minute of meditative silence which only consisted of the sound the porcelain makes as it collides with another of the same material.

The calming and sweet aroma of the tea crept to my nose. It smells heavenly, I must admit.

My father slides the hot cup of fresh newly brewed tea beside my paper, although not that close where I could possibly spill it over when tapped.

"So how was your day?"

"Quite alright, I suppose."

"Your brother can be quite a lot to handle, isn't he?" He said, then taking a small sip of the tea.

"So why bring him along? It's starting to look like I'm the one to attend to him instead of him attending to me." I scoffed incredulously, still focused on the task at hand. But still I told no lies, my older brother is a child at heart, and could only be tamed with sugar.

There was a short pause and so I took that chance, to take a sip, the faint taste of something sweet embracing my tongue and filling my throat with warmth.

"Unlike you, he doesn't take his future seriously. I need him to see for himself what may be his standing a decade from now once I have stepped down upon my duties." He answered, swirling his already half empty tea cup, a habit I noticed he had picked up when he and his fellow vassals drank sake to their hearts fill.

"But have you asked him if that is what he wants?"

His eyes slowly land to mine, seemingly to contemplate something.

"No, not yet." He shook his head.

"Then I suppose you should. And once he has told you he holds no interest in such, I think it would be best for you and mother should start planning for another hei–" I suggested, but is interrupted with his coughs, eventually turning into a fit of giggles.

"Alright, alright, I hear you sunshine." Laughter gradually fading, he drank the last drop of the tea.

"It matters not to me if the Michizane is led by a woman." He added.

"Are you implying for me to take the seat?"

"Why not? What a functional community needs is someone who is capable, smart, responsible and assertive. You clearly display those traits."

"But I am a woman."

"And?" His eyes rose, expecting me an answer…an answer that I can't give justification to, for some reason. It took me for a while to come up with a decent refutation.

".....It will look strange upon their eyes. A woman has never led within their household, let alone an entire community. That's nothing more than a pipe dream." It is true, no man would listen to a woman, never they will respect one's authority merely because we are nothing but child bearers to their perspective. It makes me truly wonder how my father came to exist.

He who views his lover his equal. I am fortunate to have him as a father, but I hate him for fueling a fruitless dream would only leave me in vain.

"Then how about we make it into reality?" I scoff. Where does he come up to even think of such things?

"That's absurd. Are you sure you have not drank half seas over?" I leaned to his arm, sniffing the fabric of his garb.

Concern is what was written on his face, as he did the same, but with the vacant sleeves of his other hand.

"Do I smell like it?"

He didn't smell anything, much to my not-so-disappointment. Because it could only mean he genuinely means what he had proclaimed.

"No."

"Then there's your answer."

It makes me feel at ease for my father to acknowledge my abilities alone, but for him to entrust the future of the Michizane upon my hands?

Never had I thought of such.

"If your brother refuses, then I'll make you Yamato's first female daimyo." He added, patting my head, before deciding to garner up the mess on the table as both of us were done drinking the warm beverage.

".....If that's what suits you." I said, before he proceeded to stand up and leave my room.

"I reckon we should retire. It's been a long day for all of us." Nodding, he excused himself, but before he could,

"If–if you do not mind, father, could you sleep by my side?" I blurt in the heat of the moment. Fear coursed through my veins. The fear of sleeping alone in a room I am not familiar with overpowering my reasoning.

"You didn't have to ask, kid. I'll return this for a minute and while I do, you should tidy up, alright?" Offering me a genuine smile, I let my tensed shoulders relax.

"Yes." Without question, I did what he had told me to do.

I lay on one side of the bed, my eyes focused on the ceilings. It all consists of gray. The amount of gray, or red with my colourblind lens, I've sighted today may rival the gray I have seen throughout my entire life. I guess this is their signature colour. It's not overwhelming per se, but over time I feel like I'm starting to get tired of it all.

Father announced his return with the cautious and agonizingly slow sliding of the door. Traveling to the empty vacant side of the bed, he laid down to the side, turning his body to face me. I copied him, mirroring my ocean eyes in his.

"Goodnight." I whispered, and shut my eyes to slumber.

"Sweet dreams, moonlight." Everything was starting to go faint, but I still did hear it, my consciousness slowly drifting onto black. The gentle repetitive taps on my shoulders akin to something nostalgic, the calm beating of something as I curled, snuggling to the warmth. Allowing the realm of dreams tonight to engulf me into slumber.

That very same evening, a boy with a pair of eyes dyed in blood red cries himself alone to sleep. Missing the embrace of she who made his life less bleak.

Notes: Ok, I was supposed to be updating every 10 days, midterms just rlly fcked me up lol.

Anyways, this was supposed to be just some fluffy chapter but when I was nearby just the end of it, Somebody to Stay in my shuffle started playing and like gave me so much baby qin feels so I said f*ck it why not. My duality be showing lol. I'm so sorry.

And originally, I planned on having Yuuta Okkotsu to be the one who's supposed to be with Y/n, but I thought their interactions sounded too bland. So I switched it up with Satoru and so sassy sibling slander ensues.

I also love me some supportive dilf. Plays daddy issues*

#snv qin shi huang #qin shi huang #qin huang x reader #snv x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie

[bluraydisco]

A bunch of news sites are reporting that Vince McMahon is selling to a Saudi private investment firm making more money than God, it returning back to a private company, Thusly offering more money and incentives to talent contracts amongst other things. This will also lead to a power grab by McMahon to take the reins of creative again.

If these rumors are true, this is possibly the reason why Stephanie McMahon resigned. I am certain that there will be mass layoffs coming soon for the wrestlers and creatives that Triple H hired back to the company. People that Vince doesn't see value in.

I'm also sure that Triple H, William Regal and the newly appointed head of continuity Rob Fee will see either their roles diminished or be let go all together as well.

It will also lead to an exodus of one of their most popular characters right now, Sami Zayn. (who is of Syrian descent).

It might also lead to their stacked women's roster being depleted and every lgbtq person within the company either being fired or let go.

Just note this is just speculation on my part due to the fact about how the Saudis treat women and homosexuals. However, thanks to a Twitter follower of mine (Alex Morrison) I understand the ins and outs of how these investment firms work. They own many soccer teams in the UK, including women's league, which are thriving financially and they are paying the players well. I thank Alex for his insight into these side of things.

I hope that this is just a private investment firm that won't have any influence on the company itself. But I, personally, highly doubt it.

It's strange that a company that was so "pro American" especially during the Hogan years with the "giant foreign heel" rising against America and "Hulkamania" will come to a deal with such a ruthless organization. Heck, they are so "USA" that they often fundraise for certain orange-tinted Buffoon's that claim to be for "America First".

Another odd thing, and a fact about Vincent Kennedy McMahon, is that he created the character of "The Million Dollar Man" to be a send-up. He was taking the piss out of rich people because he detested so much how they acted and flaunted their wealth and means. How money changes people's perspective through age and time is equally interesting and disturbing. " Greed is good", I guess.

In the end it's all about the dollars and it doesn't have to make sense. They've had pay-per-view events for the Saudi Prince for multiple years now. In a way I'm not really surprised that this is happening.

It's actually an interesting allegory to late stage capitalism and the rise of the extremist politics, in a way. Money talks and bullshit walks as long as an elderly, out of touch white man that holds all the cards is in control.

Also, this Billion Dollar Man and his corporation/conglomerate subduing all, if any, creative youth movement from within. It's a tale as Old as Time.

So far this is only a rumor. A very big rumor. WWE has not confirmed the sale. However I wouldn't be surprised if they did.

I am hoping for the best for Shawn Michaels, Triple H, Stephanie, Rob Fee , Bray Wyatt and the other big names that have returned during Vince's brief "retirement". Anyone affected by this news.

I hope that they would be able to, if they are all relieved of their duties, create their own promotion. A promotion that loves the business for what it is and even though money is good, the art form of pro wrestling will always be the central point.

I might reluctantly continue to watch WWE as long as Triple H is in charge of creative. But if it turns back to the cluster fuck it was during late stage McMahon, I'll just say: "Thank Christ for the AEW, Mexico, Japan AND the thriving Indy scene".

In the end, the Federation (or the "E" as they call it) will die when Vince McMahon does. Professional wrestling lives on. If worse comes to worse, there are alternatives out there. Subscribe to #iwtv to see the purest and most passionate form of professional wrestling

Okay I'm off my soapbox now.

#VinceMcMahon #WWE #SaudiDeal #StephanieMcMahon #TripleH

[beachy--head]

Idea for ya - 18.19 When they get home safe, Jackson opens up about being glad to have his family away from GSM. It was there home but he also lost so much there. He almost lost April twice. Maybe he tells her how he felt about her NDE. Because he never really did (he should have told her he still loved her both, even though the divorce then Matthew took away that right)

There was Seattle, and now there's Boston, and to say they're happy to land, to bring Harriet home, to relax on the couch in an understatement.

"Is it wrong that I'm kind of glad we're away from all the madness of Grey Sloan?"

He sighs. "I'm already dreading the next time we have to go back."

She smiles, noticing the "we", and takes a sip of her tea, enjoying the calm after the storm.

"You know, I spent most of my life trying to run away from Boston, from this place. For a while I thought I'd made my home in Seattle, and I had. There was the hospital, the people, the fellowship, and you, and then Harriet, and... It was home, really. And going back there..."

"You thought it would feel weirder than it was, going back to a home that's no longer a home?"

How, after all these years, can she still read him like an open book and know exactly what he's feeling? He nods and lets his thoughts drift off. Going to Seattle was like visiting a memory, and sure, the streets and the hallways and the ORs were familiar, reassuring, but they were nothing compared to the new memories he's making here. To their brownstone in Boston, to the throw pillows April has stacked on the couch, to the toys Harriet keeps leaving everywhere, to the three pairs of shoes lined together next to the door.

"It was home, yeah. And we made so many memories there. It brought me so much. But at some point, it also took so much from me. Charles, Reed, Mark, Samuel... You."

He swallows but smiles, to assure her that he's fine, but he needs to get this out of his chest. It's easier now that he's removed from it, that he has some perspective on it all.

"Do you know that every time I had to use OR 3, I always had this moment when I flashed back to opening the doors and seeing you on the table, almost dead, with Meredith and Maggie and Alex and Owen working on you? It only lasted a few seconds, but it happened every freaking time. I started telling my residents to book the other ORs if they could, but you know that's not always possible, and I just-" He shakes his head. "And then so many things happened, and you left but not really, but it felt like you did, and... At some point, you just have to realize that maybe you need a new home."

She fits into his arms like she's always fit, like she never left them to begin with. And he hopes she understands everything he's trying to say. That he's so grateful for her, for following him here, for giving them another chance, a fresh start. For seeing that Seattle didn't work for him anymore, and for helping him realize his dreams, and that included her.

He hopes she knows that Seattle is no longer home, because she is.

#drabble #japril #april kepner #jackson avery #ask

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖

Chapter 43c - The silent dance of us.

Episode 3. ------- The junkyard across town, early afternoon ---------

Raven: What is time really? In one way it passes faster than a blink of an eye. A quarter year gone by in what feels like a week, because you got busy, healing, moving forwards, learning new things, coping, exploring, making your way back to life, falling in love, clawing your ass out of hell. Whatever it is that makes your time run faster, make sure it's worth it. Meanwhile, from another perspective, it can seem almost as if time stands still. On the same scale where a quarter year passed by quicker than you can catch up, time might seem like it's never arriving. The time to finally be with that certain someone you've longed for all your life. And waiting even another hour, seems like the hardest task. Only you get to repeat that task, 24 hours per day. Every day. In hopes that one day, the universe will grand you even as much as a brush of his hand. That somehow you will be worthy enough to get a small fragment of his magic and

Adrian: Who are you talking to? he frowned confused at Raven sitting on a stack of pallets in his garden, smoking a cigarette

Raven: He blew a bit of smoke out and looked questioning back at him

Adrian: Lifting an eyebrow, further questioning the odd behavior

Raven: He shrugged lightly just mumbling to myself?

Adrian: ….. it sounded like you were in a very deep conversation?

Raven: He shrugged again, then smirked at the thin air before jumping down from the stack of pallets Are you hungry? I'll cook!

Adrian: Looking suspiciously around them for some sort of evidence, as to whom Raven had been in conversation with

--------- At Red-sidence ----------

Dalton: Smiling soft at Malou sitting next to him at the table …. I'm growing after you came around smiling soft and warm

Malou: Smiling bright and surprised Really?

Dalton: Smiling wider yes.

Malou: Looking away a bit shy, then back at him, still smiling bright you know, I just thought about that earlier… that I grow around you.

Dalton: Malou…

Malou: Dalton? she chuckled softly

Dalton: Reaching out, gently cupping her cheek with his hand, caressing her skin gently

Malou: Smiling shy, wondering what she has done to deserve him …. how can you have so soft hands?

Dalton: Chuckling soft and surprised I've heard that before

Malou: Chuckling soft … for the record she gently grabbed his hand, leading it back down to the table, softly caressing it you have the most beautiful hands. I always liked them a lot… observed them… longing to touch them

Dalton: Smiling surprised

Malou: Blushing lightly, getting awkward, wanting to finish her thought anyway …. I suppose this is where my obsession with male hands started? I don't know, it's something with the curve of the thumb, the arch of the back of your hand, the sway of your wrist. She shrugged lightly I get sorta turned on?

Dalton: His smile leading into a cheeky smirk You do?

Malou: Chuckling shyly Yeah

Dalton: Lifting an eyebrow, observing her closely, his heart beating a little faster, things unmistakeably starting to stir

Malou: Noticing he was getting a certain look on his face, slightly panicking …. Dalton uh… there's uhm… there's something I need to talk to you about.

Dalton: A couple minutes later, he was smiling compassionate at her I have some lotion if you want? about to get up I've had haemorrhoids too a couple times, and I have a really good lotion!

Malou: Chuckling surprised, getting pleasantly caught off guard uh…. yeah…. uh no… I have one actually, it's good too… but thank you It meant the world to her, but at the same time, she was slightly worried if he had understood that it was a big fear for her, regarding intimacy? He sometimes seemed so careless she couldn't quite pinpoint if he was just excited that she had shared something so personal and the fact that he could offer both understanding and help, or if he was brushing it off too fast cause it simply wasn't a big deal to him, and without noticing perhaps not fully understanding the magnitude of her insecurity?

Dalton: Okay he nodded eagerly but now you know I have, in case you need it.

Malou: She nodded gentle and shyly

------ Somewhere among the pines -------

Sam: He was roaming around nature, scouting for things such as herbs, stones and other stuff he might have use for, when he suddenly heard someone talking nearby. Surprised as he quickly discovered he knew the voice

Raven: He was sitting on a large stones in the middle of a small clearing, talking in a lowered, rather deep voice, as if he was sharing an intimate conversation with someone, except he was seemingly alone? But isn't the question always if they love you the same way as you love them? Or more? Which wouldn't be a problem, the problem starts if they love you less. But how does one measure love? How can you ever truly know if someone loves you the way you love them, and add to that the volume of said love? Do someone love you high enough if they are willing to hold your hand when you need it? Or is it perhaps more measured in what extraordinary ways they can prove their love? You often hear people go to lengths such as 'I would die for you', and some actually make it very literal. But does that mean, if one is not willing to sacrifice themselves for the one they love, that they love them less? And in that case less than what? Less than the other persons love? Less than they deserve? Not enough? He paused for a moment, starring blank at a small patch of moss, then continued, in a lighter voice I think it's impossible to measure one love against another. Only we ourselves can know exactly how deep our love is, and trying to fully translate that into words or actions, for someone else to fully grasp, might be a pointless loss of time. So until there's a scientific way to measure the level of love, we're forever doomed to fear not receiving the love we give. Which ultimately also leads to a pointless loss of time… don't you think?

Sam: Accidentally stepping on a small twig

Raven: Looking up in Sam's direction, squinting his eyes as he listened closely Sam?

Sam: He slowly stepped out from behind a tree Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation with….he frowned light and questioning for just a second

Raven: Smiling casually

Sam: Looking around a bit, trying to figure if one of Raven's brothers might be around?

Raven: He shrugged lightly you wont pick up on anyone, Sam he chuckled lightly I guess you can say I'm alone.

Sam: He nodded soft okay…he hesitated a bit

Raven: Yes, you may sit with me, if that's what your questioning pause is about?… but I assure you I'm alright.

Sam: He nodded confirming, but still slowly walked over to Raven, sitting down on the stone next to him …………….

Raven: …… he chuckled deeply you never speak to yourself?

Sam: Sure…. but not longer conversations.

Raven: Pity… you're a smart and deep person, I'm sure you could carry some interesting conversations with yourself he smiled friendly what do you have in the basket? quickly changing subject

Sam: Some herbs, a couple stones… pine cones, a mouse skeleton….

Raven: So the everyday witch stuff? he smirked

Sam: I suppose he smiled softly

Raven: He nodded confirming, observing Sam a little. He seemed unusually quiet, distant, as if he was somehow holding something back?…. no, that wasn't it….. he was cautious? What's up, Sam?

Sam: He squinted a bit questioning at Raven What do you mean?

Raven: You know what I mean

Sam: …. he sighed soft I have had this on/off feeling…. this fear…. I can't seem to shake it…

Raven: I see. Do you want to tell me what it's about?

Sam: It's nothing I can really pinpoint… it's more of a fuzzy shape…. as if I have already lost something…. but I can't put my finger on what it is? It feels like…. he sighed heavily gray clouds slowly moving in…. surrounding the whole island….

Raven: He frowned lightly a few seconds, then out of character reached up, stroking Sam's cheek for just a brief moment, speaking in a lowered, warm voice And whatever it is, you're strong enough to handle it.

Sam: He frowned lightly at the odd behavior, but before he could get to ask, Raven was gone. He sighed soft and shook his head, then grabbed his phone in his pocket, quickly redialling the last number on his call list

Adrian: He picked up on first ring Yes? His voice was warm and inviting

Sam: He sighed soft into the phone Hi… uhm… do you have Raven over there?

Adrian: He's taking a shower, yes?

Sam: He frowned confused he was just here with me… in the forest…

Adrian: ……

Sam: Something was off with him….

Adrian: ….. what do you mean?

Sam: He sighed a little deeper I… I walked in on him talking with himself… like a full conversation. When I tried to ask him about it, he brushed it off. We had a small talk about me, and then he stroke my cheek, said I would be okay, and left*

Adrian: …… he turned around in his kitchen, peeking towards the outhouse with a soft frown. Tuning into his wolf hearing, he could easily hear the water run in the shower, and Raven lightly humming Yeah, that's

Sam: Strange even for him?

Adrian: …. I hate to ask, cause it makes me worry about you and your safety… but are you sure it was really Raven being with you?

Sam: …… yes.

Adrian: ……

Sam: He grunted lightly are you sure it's Raven really showering in y

Adrian: Yes, Sam. I can smell him, even through the soap and water.

Sam: ….. in that case I suggest we talk with his brothers he sighed lightly what if it's something like a depression again? He usually starts exhibiting off behavior before he goes down.

Adrian: ….. he sighed soft I prefer to at the very least ask him first. If he denies and the odd behavior continues, we can contact Ronan.

Sam: And you trust he would tell you the truth?

Adrian: Yes, Sam his voice growing slightly annoyed

Sam: He nodded confirming Okay.

Adrian: He sighed soft Sorry his voice still slightly annoyed… I also walked in on him talking to himself… or someone. Same thing as with you, he brushed it off when I questioned it. He sighed again, frowning firmly look we can stand here and guess, or I can go ask him, so that's what I'm gonna do. I'll call you back if things turn weirder than they already are

Sam: Alright he nodded confirming if I don't hear from you, I take everything is alright, and there's no need to worry.

Adrian: As they hung up a short moment later, he quickly emptied the last sips of his beer and walked to the outhouse, stopping few steps from the shower, staying out of reach from the water splashing down, as he crossed his arms, observing Raven under the water

Raven: He chuckled softly I'm perfectly fine, Adrian.

Adrian: He lifted a suspicious eyebrow

Raven: Yes, I overheard the two of you he smirked lightly look, it's nothing more than talking with an invisible friend. Most kids do it…. religious people do it… is it such a crime I do it too?

Adrian: Frowning deep, not buying it

Raven: He chuckled lightly I'm not depressed, not even the slightest. My mental health is much better than it has been in years, and I am quite serious about that. I'm happy in my life, I have amazing partners, friends and family, I have no need to make up invisible friends… more than the ones who were already there he smirked teasingly Now how about you worry that pretty ass of yours the last few steps over here, and get under the water with me, and I'll make sure to fuck those worries away in no time!

Adrian: He grunted soft, but slowly started undressing

Raven: Smirk growing into naughty grin I never get tired of that show he nodded at Adrian undressing in front of him, then winked at the thin air how about you?

#Raven McKinney #Brandubh McKinney #Adrian Blackwood #Malou Jensen #Dalton Red #unicorntales

[slow-button-off]

thanks for sharing the lengthy TR post! people who only know how to parrot narratives from social media will never truly appreciate it, but so much good info coming from your effort that could be shared.

i did have a question - i’ve heard ppl say that sainz argued against the pitwall in silverstone (and monaco) but got it wrong anyway, ie his suggestions wouldnt have helped. is this true? trying to understand. ty!

In Silverstone he was arguing for himself which for himself were the right choices. Waiting so long to let Charles through had no impact on Carlos race but it did cost Charles race time.

And the same applies to the team orders at the SC restart. For just himself it was the right call. For the actual team nobody really knows but I think had he given more space just at the restart he still would've won and Charles might've made it on the podium. But Carlos made the right choice for himself.

In Monaco it's a bit more complicated.

Checo winning from 3rd kinda shows that the inter strategy was the right strategy after all. Carlos not wanting to cover Checo didn't really "help" Carlos in a complete race perspective. Ik he says he should've won if not for the blue flags thing but honestly idk. It was like 1-2 sectors and I don't have the full times in mind but Checo and Charles were very quick on the inters. So I'm not sure if he'd have been ahead of Checo if not for the blue flags.

Carlos arguing to not pit had like no actual impact on the strategy in Monaco tho. The team wanted to pit him anyway and he agreed. The only reason it didn't happen was that Checo had already undercut him.

The issue with Charles was that after not pitting Carlos it took them another lap to pit Charles so he pitted 2 laps after Checo. But he still almost made it work even with that and the whole lap of ignored blue flags from Alex. Charles would've undercut Checo had he had a normal pitstop onto the slicks instead of the double stack.

That extra time lost there is what cost Charles.

Carlos strategy was neither wrong nor super right because he just kept his position. The inters strategy was clearly faster but that double stack killed it for Charles.

And it looks like they just forgot that Carlos was already pitting or they just didn't expect Charles to be as fast as he was on inters and to make up the whole pitstop in like 3 laps and to be on Carlos arse that quickly.

#asks asks asks

[artisticflutter]

AU August - Day Twenty-Seven: University

Probably won’t post thirty today, but wanted to get these two caught up before gaming.

Series: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: T Genre: General, Romance Pairing(s): G’raha x Alisaie Summary: After that night, G’raha didn’t expect anything. However, it seems Miss Alisaie Leveilleur is not finished with him. Warning: Not beta’d. Continued from Day Combo 23 & 24.

She was in the library again.

Or had she always frequented the library before and he hadn’t paid much attention? 

G’raha wasn’t certain, but he saw her browsing one of the shelves, her brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in concentration as she scanned either the filing numbers or the author names… or mayhap the titles. She was looking at something - looking for something, and she could ask; it was his job after all, but she didn’t. Moving on down the row, he frowned. Should he offer to help? Would that be alright? Gods this felt awkward.

“You know she’s studying aetherical manipulation and reconstituting form.”

“What–!?”

Back stiff, G’raha’s fur was standing as his head snapped to the side, and a breath escaped him as he noticed Alphinaud. Now when did he get here?

“Gods, you scared me. Why would she be studying that?” It sounded like the concepts behind Aetherytes and teleportation magicks which was already documented and cataloged upstairs and several shelves over. Also, why did that sound familiar? Could they have had that discussion? Trying to think harder about it, he felt his face begin to burn remembering those single night’s events instead. He swears, if they talked for bells about it at a party and then slipped away for - of all things. Was he that terrible at facilitating a conversation that wasn’t related to work?

“Let’s just say someone’s historical lecture regarding Tempering and creation magicks may have struck a chord. She’s always been exceptional manipulating her own aether, but she oft prefers it for combative needs. I’m not sure what brought this on.”

“Lecture…? Wait, my theoretical lecture?” He knew the professors had paid attention, but he hadn’t remembered seeing any students engaged in the audience - or hadn’t thought. Honestly, from an outsider’s perspective, understanding the rise of Tempering in ancient civilizations probably didn’t sound that interesting, or how the use of those victim’s aether recreated a crude use of creation magicks known only to their original ancestors. He only picked the subject because of the recent rise in illegal practices, mainly within cults. Yes, none of that sounded inspiring… “... I feel like I’m missing something.”

“I would advise asking her, but Alisaie’s one who rarely divulges her intentions. Not for the lack of trying, but we couldn’t both be gifted with certain social graces.”

“Just as we couldn’t all be gifted with certain physical aptitudes.”

A stack of books was set hard upon the counter, making both Alphinaud and G’raha jump. Slitted red eyes met equally fiery blue gaze, Alisaie Leveilleur standing there with both hands pressed on the counter and practically towering over G’raha. Yes, right, twins - she was the same height as Alphinaud and while she had more delicate features, she was far more physically imposing. And that should not arouse him, but…

“Now, if you’re done discussing what I’m doing, I’d like to check out,” she said, pushing the small stack forward. “And, dear brother, if you want to know, perhaps take more vested interest in my subjects than your next debate. Besides, wouldn’t you like to know how you can use it for your own goals just as you do with people? You and the rest of your insufferable group.”

G’raha’s ears flattened and he looked between them, noting Alphinaud’s indifference to Alisaie’s glare. If he recalled a passing rumor correctly, the two had long since had a strained relationship, but the reasons behind it were unknown. Before him, that rumor seemed true - and he didn’t like being present to witness it.

The group she was referring to, was it the Braves?

He scanned each book for checkout and informed her they were due in three weeks, breaking the tension between them. That was, until he found she’d slipped a paper into his hands. She was walking away before he could ask, but he heard her brother scoff.

“So, she’s picked you next.” G’raha tilted his head, not understanding. Alphinaud smirked, “Don’t think too hard about it. You’ll be gone like the others before soon enough.”

With that, the older twin took his leave, leaving G’raha at the counter, still bewildered as to what he might be involved in should he call the number in his hand.

#au august #au august 2022 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv au #scribbling do #day 27: university #alisaie leveilleur #g'raha tia #alphinaud leveilleur #g'raha x alisaie #bad relationships #alisaie and alphinaud at odds #g'raha finds himself a fwb #or maybe more? #later #modern-ish au

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

"Tom Riddle effectively destroys the country from the inside out, which I believe was his true goal the entire time" (c) wait a second, so you think that he wasn't going to really take over or anything, just destroy the fuck out of w britain?

I have avoided this ask long enough.

I’ll start by saying that asking me about Tom Riddle is like staring down into a bottomless rabbit hole. We could travel down that path, but it is a dark and perilous journey, and by the end of it I will come out looking like the Mad Hatter.

It also requires a few prerequisites that you’re just going to accept as true (or else got off the crazy train here).

We know very little about Tom Riddle or Voldemort

What we do know of Tom Riddle comes to us from suspect sources

I’m just going to go out there and start with the basis that Tom is not crazy

Elaborating a little on number 1. We never actually see much of Tom Riddle or Voldemort directly. He’s a bit like Thanos in the MCU, or Palpatine in the first two movies of the Original Trilogy, he’s this looming threat that we pass by and glimpse every once in a while but never really get quality time with.

Generally, Voldemort makes an appearance in a moment of crisis.

He and Harry fight over the philosopher’s stone for Tom’s very survival. He and Harry fight over the diary for Tom’s very survival. He resurrects himself with Harry as a witness. We get those very strange dreams from Voldemort’s perspective (half of which we later learn are fabricated).

None of these really lend to our, or Harry’s for that matter, understanding of Tom Riddle. There’s too much going on, it usually happens far too fast, and there’s usually something Tom Riddle desperately wants or needs that eclipses all other concerns or else he has an audience.

This is part of the reason we get those Halfblood Prince pensieve lessons: Harry knows nothing of Tom Riddle and doesn’t understand him at all.

Which leads us, of course, to number 2, most of what we know about Tom Riddle comes from Dumbledore. I’ve talked about this before, so I won’t spend much time on it, but Dumbledore has a very clear agenda in relaying these memories to Harry. Dumbledore already has strong suspicions of what objects are horcruxes and where they’re located, he already has Snape as a very reliable agent to continue work when he’s gone, his job here is to convince Harry there is no path but suicide. And that involves portraying Tom Riddle as the most evil man who ever eviled, was born eviler than the antichrist, and will die eviler than the antichrist. 

Now, does this make Tom necessarily good or bad? No.

However, it does mean when Dumbledore tells us things like, “See, Harry, an impoverished child was upset when I lit all his belongings on fire! What a monster!” (especially given that, in a similar situation, Harry thought it was hilarious when Hagrid gave Dudley a permanent physical deformity and Harry was told he was an angel child) we should take it with a very large grain of salt.

Right, so, with all that backdrop what I’m getting at is that a) we can’t take Dumbledore at his word b) even if we could he could be wrong c) Harry doesn’t have the introspection to be able to figure himself when a or b is happening. I won’t elaborate on this last much, suffice to say that Harry’s world is very black and white, divided into the camps of those who personally like him and those who don’t.

So, why do I think Tom’s goal was not to rule the wizarding world but instead to destroy it?

A few things.

First, there are so many easier ways he could have ended up ruling the wizarding world. More, even when he effectively does rule the wizarding world in book seven, he takes very strange actions so that he’s never directly in power.

Second, I never really bought Tom’s racism. It’s too convenient and too contradictory with his backstory.

The second first, because we’re going out of order today. I’ve gone over this before, but I don’t believe Tom had minions early and I think he was effectively treated as a muggleborn (see here and here) until he took on the Voldemort persona many decades later. I’m hard pressed to believe someone as intelligent, angry, and proud as Tom Riddle would willingly believe and accept he was inferior to the likes of Abraxas Malfoy. More, even if he wished he was a halfblood, I think the evidence of him being muggleborn would be stacked too high against him to deny even to himself (and when he finds out it’s not true, he has maybe a month or so before he realized that he’s the bastard son of a squib). 

And it’s just so convenient. All the people with the power, with the money, who are itching for a cause against a threat that doesn’t really exist believe in blood purity. Ergo, Voldemort shows up suddenly espousing over the top blood purity rhetoric (rhetoric that directly clashes with his “there is only power” philosophy at that). 

In other words, I think Tom Riddle gave himself a line that he knew would get him places very quickly.

And now for the first. For a guy who has had the entire country in the palm of his hands twice, one time taking it over in a bloodless coup, he’s really big on causing collateral damage and really small on actually doing the ruling thing.

The first wizarding war, Tom Riddle as Voldemort has the backing of the heirs of the most prestigious and wealthy noble houses save a select few. These are people with seats in the Wizengamot, which has a frightening control over the government itself (including the minister of magic). I imagine, in 1980 had Tom Riddle wanted to be elected as Minister of Magic, he would have been elected as Minister of Magic. If he wanted a friendly face in office then he probably could have made that happen to.

More than even this though, by this point, Tom had already won. By having control over the majority of the Wizengamot he owns the government. He’s done, it’s over, it’s finished, and many of the characters admit as much which is why Harry Potter was such a miracle. So why all the seemingly random, exceptionally pointless, terrorism? 

One answer is that Voldemort is crazy bananas. And sure, I guess we can go with that, except for someone insane he’s oddly effective and very consistent. 

I believe Tom was systematically destroying the very foundations of the country through its core aristocratic families. Within a few short years Tom decimates the Black family, it goes from having five heirs to none, and while some of this isn’t Tom’s fault he does take care of quite a few of them. He brands Lucius for life, while Lucius rises high in politics he never escapes the stigma of being a known Death Eater and in the end cannot escape the consequences for his actions. The Malfoy family is very nearly destroyed by the end of the series, had Draco died in the Fiendfyre. The LeStrange family, presumably decimated as well.

More, this is mostly me headcanoning, but I imagine Tom fuels an extremism that the Wizarding World had never contemplated. I imagine, previously, anti-muggleborn sentiment was probably fairly rampant among purebloods. Oh, some were very pro-muggleborn I’m sure, but I think most were fairly “eh” on the people and felt they were a drain on society (such as requiring constant funding for the obliviation department).

However, when Diagon Alley starts getting blown up every other week, when muggleborns start being tortured and murdered, when purebloods who aren’t anti-muggleborn enough are being tortured and murdered, this starts wigging people out in a way they’ve never wigged out before.

By the time we get to Harry Potter’s canon, it is now only a minority that are anti-muggleborn, and they’re perceived as raving lunatics. Nobody wants to be grouped with these people. Which, just goes to show, how much Voldemort rattles the wizarding world in a very small amount of time.

Then there’s Deathly Hallows, rather than become minister himself Voldemort installs a puppet minister. He shows no signs of wishing to change this and instead does things like destroy the sorting hat (which again shakes the very foundations of the wizarding world as whta will we do if we don’t know who’s a Gryffindor anymore?!)

So, where is this ramble going?

Given the results we see, that more than any others it seems to be the purebloods and often Tom’s own followers that suffer colossal losses, I think Tom’s actions are, in part, a means of vengeance against the entire damn wizarding world (but especially the purebloods).

He makes fools of these people, brands them as his slaves, and has them participate in the most over the top ridiculous rituals (the cloaks, the masks, the entire theatrics of it feels like Tom got drunk one night and planned this whole thing out). He destroys them entirely, and better, enables them to completely destroy themselves and the country they believe they’re trying to save.

Basically, I think by the time the series begins Tom is fueled by a nihilist rage that knows no bounds. But dammit all, the wizarding world is going to burn.

#ask #tom riddle #voldemort #anon

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Kara strode confidently into the DEO, giving friendly smiles to all the agents. One of them turned bright red, their heart rate going all over the place and looking like they were about to faint which was… mildly concerning. They squeaked an affirmative and ran off immediately when she asked if they were okay and suggested they went to the medbay though, so they’d probably be fine.

“Hey Kara.” Winn swung his chair towards her, eating a gummy worm.

She hopped up onto the desk beside him, grabbing a handful of sweets from the packet he was holding and ignoring his noise of protest. “Hi.”

He squinted suspiciously at her. “You’re looking awfully chipper this morning.”

Kara turned to him, gummy worm halfway to her mouth, and raised an eyebrow. “Chipper?”

He groaned and dropped his head to the desk. “I’ve been reading Agatha Christie novels and I can’t stop talking like an old English person. It’s positively awful. Please help me.”

Kara laughed and continued eating his gummy worms.

He yelped as Alex smacked him over the head on the way past.

“I don’t pay you to sleep, Winn.”

Winn huffed and rubbed the back of his head. “You’re not the one that pays me at all. And you shouldn’t hit employees - it’s an abuse of power.”

Alex rolled her eyes, opening a file and flicking through. “Quit moaning, it wasn’t even that hard. Besides I can hit you because you’re more like an annoying little brother than an employee.”

Winn shut up after that, looking halfway to happy tears, and Alex took the opportunity to round on Kara.

“Where were you last night? I tried to drop this off at your apartment but you weren’t there.” She threw a scarf at Kara’s face that hid the blush rising on her cheeks as she almost choked on her gummy worm. “You forgot it at my place. Again.”

Winn halfheartedly patted her on the back which did absolutely nothing to help.

Kara cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest to regain some of her dignity which all the DEO agents definitely thought she had. “Well it’s not my fault I don’t feel the cold.”

Alex didn’t look impressed. She went back to flicking through reports, boredom radiating off of her. “So where were you anyway?”

Kara swallowed her gummy worm, making sure it went down the right way this time. “I was patrolling.”

Alex frowned. “Really? That’s weird - I didn’t get a notification of you flying on the scanners.” She narrowed her eyes and looked around, raising her voice to an overhearable level. “Do I need to fire someone.”

Kara jumped up with an awkward chuckle and patted Alex’s forearm calmingly. “No no. I was… walking.”

Alex looked at her funny. “Why? You can fly.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to see the sights of National City from a regular person perspective. You know - the harbour, the museum, the… harbour?”

Alex frowned. “In the middle of the night?”

Kara laughed awkwardly. “I wanted to avoid the crowds?”

Alex shrugged, going back to her paperwork. “You do you I guess.”

———

She was having lunch with Lena in her office, thighs a little too close, words a little too flirty, when Alex burst in looking frazzled. Her eyes widened even further as they flicked between the two of them and Kara stood to go to her, fighting the blush threatening to rise on her cheeks.

“Alex? Is everything ok?”

Alex nodded quickly, hooking her arm through Kara’s and smiling at Lena in a way that was probably supposed to be apologetic but ended more on the side of terrifying. “Hi, sorry, I just need to borrow Kara for a moment.” She attempted to shove Kara out the door as she spoke. “Just some Supergirl business. Nothing to worry about.”

She shut the door behind them without letting Lena get a word in and turned to Kara in panic. She looked her up and down once and then started pacing.

“Oh god it’s worse than I thought.”

Kara followed her movement with her eyes like she was watching a tennis match. “What are you talking about Alex? What’s wrong?”

Alex stopped and spun towards her. “What’s wrong? Look at you! You’re so…” she gestured to Kara’s vague personage, “gay!”

To say Kara was shocked would be an understatement. “I’m sorry what?”

Alex just continued staring at her, biting her thumb nail. She sighed, dropping her hands to her sides. “We found a substance at the harbour earlier that we have now identified as pink kryptonite. That’s where you said you were last night wasn’t it - the harbour.”

Kara’s eyes widened and she gulped. “I did say that, didn’t I.”

Alex started pacing again, coming up with a plan to keep Kara away from all women for the foreseeable future while she ran numerous tests. She stopped short when Lena poked her head out from her office.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes!” Alex latched on to Kara again as though preparing to restrain her in case she tried to do something gay.

Lena’s eyebrows rose slightly but she smiled politely. “Well just let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”

“Nope. No we’re all good.” She attempted to direct Kara towards the elevator, frowning when Kara kept wriggling out of her grasp like an eel, as subtly as possible which was to say not subtly at all. “We should get going though.”

She stared Kara down until she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just let me get my stuff.”

She went back into Lena’s office, giving her an apologetic smile as she packed up her things, aware of Alex’s eyes watching her every movement.

She kissed Lena’s cheek on the way back out, lingering perhaps a little too long, and smiled, thumb brushing across Lena’s knuckles, at the cute blush on her cheeks when she pulled back.

Alex grabbed her arm with a slightly hysterical laugh and pulled her away down the corridor, waving at Lena with a smile that was bordering on manic. “Bye Lena. Everything is completely fine.”

———

Kara eventually managed to get Alex to release her on the condition that she wouldn’t leave her apartment. Of course this was only after lots of prodding and poking and testing while Kara tried to point out that people could be bi and pan too, although Alex didn’t seem to get the hint.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Kara saw Alex again.

Her arrival was announced by an insistent banging on Kara’s front door.

Kara stumbled out of bed, grumbling about the time as she untangled her legs from her sheets and pulled on some clothes.

She swung the door open with a sigh and Alex barged in, hand still knocking at nothing for a few moments. Alex headed straight for the kitchen island, dropping a pile of papers onto it with a thud and sliding onto one of the barstools surrounding it.

Kara rolled her eyes and shut the door, getting a glass of water and leaning against the island opposite.

“I just don’t understand!” Alex frowned down at the papers as though they had personally wronged her.

“Don’t understand what?”

“Your results came back clean!” Alex turned the stack around and spread the papers out like a bad magic trick, several fluttering off the end of the island. “Look!”

Kara nodded as she looked at them, not having a clue what any of the abbreviations on the graphs meant. “Mhm.” She sipped her water, trying to keep her expression blank. “So I didn’t come into contact with it. That’s good, right?”

“No!” She stood up and started pacing. “Because it doesn’t explain why you were acting all gay with Lena and your clothes and-” She cut herself off, pausing in her pacing, and for a moment Kara thought it had finally clicked. “The tests must be wrong.”

Kara sighed, resigning herself to watching her floorboards get worn away and drinking her water.

“There’s no other explanation. We’ll have to do them all again.” Alex’s phone pinged on the kitchen island and she momentarily stopped her spiralling to check it.

Kara pulled a box of pop tarts from her cupboard to snack on while she waited for Alex to decide on a course of action and leave her poor floorboards alone.

Alex’s brow furrowed as she looked down at her phone. “I thought you were at the harbour two nights ago?”

Kara thought she did very good job at not spraying pop tart crumbs everywhere. And she was sure her voice was within normal range and not at risk of going ultrasonic. “I was.”

Alex looked up at her and turned her phone around to show Kara the screen. “Then why have I just got an alert about an article about Lena Luthor and a certain CatCo reporter sighted having dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in National City that night?” It was very impressive how she could look so annoyed and confused at the same time.

At that moment movement caught Kara’s eye and they both looked over to see a sleepy Lena emerge from Kara’s bedroom in nothing but Kara’s bedsheet. The moment Lena saw the two of them her eyes widened and she froze. Alex’s jaw dropped so far Kara was a little worried it might have been dislocated.

They all stood there staring at each other like some kind of staring contest showdown.

“Pop tart, anyone?”

#supercorp #I had to write this with one hand because my dog fell asleep on my other arm and you cannot move sleepy puppy #a ‘lotl writing

[psychotakublabs]

“Through the Looking Glass Ruins” definitely gave us more Lumity than we all expected and the B-plot of Amity and Luz’s story in this episode was written very well. Their awkward interactions and new found feelings for each other pave a way for LGBTQ young love in animation. It also gives us Luz and Amity character development, small hints at insecurities and conflicting emotions, and normalizing queer teen romances. I have seen multiple interpretations and analyses of their plot and I wanna analyze Luz and Amity from the three important scenes: Inside the Library, Outside the Library, and Blight Manor.

Inside the Library

First we have Luz knocking on Gus’s door to use Gus’s library card. It seems this is not the first time as she admits she isn’t hiding her crush very well and Gus agrees. Although she is going to the library to find Philip’s journal on the portal, she does get sidetracked with her crush on Amity. Even the twins notice both have a crush on each other but instead of teasing them about it, they just leave them alone. It seems everyone knows Luz and Amity have feelings for each other except those two and not because they are oblivious about it. It’s because Amity is still trying to figure out her own feelings and Luz isn’t sure if Amity likes her back or is afraid of losing her friendship because of these feelings.

Amity and Luz’s interactions are awkward and anxious because they have a crush on each other. That is completely normal in young love and it’s done very well here. They become flustered and weird when seeing each other and once in close contact with each other immediately separate. This is very well written and boarded becaused it normalizes queer crushes. Usually it's either the two characters fall in love immediately with no development or it's one sided. Not with Amity and Luz as they are confused lovestruck teenagers who are navigating these new found feelings for each other. Like a lot of teens, having a crush is confusing and awkward and having two queer characters (Luz is bisexual and Amity is lesbian) having developing feelings and normlazing those interactions shows queer teens and kids it's normal and okay to have these feelings.

Most interesting in their adventures in the library is the Amity and Luz character development.

First off Luz becomes less impulsive of her actions because she worries about Amity losing her job. While at the doorway to the Forbidden Stacks, Luz reassures herself and says she will find another way. After her conversation with Amity in the Forbidden Stacks, she says they should head back and doesn't want to push Amity. Usually Luz is impulsive in her actions. In the Human Realm, she does things without thinking first and that's caused a lot of trouble for others. Because she knows Amity could lose her job if caught, Luz thinks before diving into danger so she doesn't hurt Amity. This is development for Luz because it shows her thinking about her actions before doing so and how it might affect others. This isn't the first time either she has shown this development but it's very prominent in this episode and shows how much she cares about Amity.

Amity has become more impulsive in her actions lately. Despite knowing she could lose her job in the library, she still helps Luz in getting into the Forbidden Stacks. This irrational behavior is because of Amity's feelings towards Luz. When Luz mentions a possible date with Amity to the Human Realm, she ignores Luz's hesitation to go further and rushes to get the diary, dragging Luz with her. Amity is worried about losing her job but pushes through because she knows how important this diary is to Luz and her feelings for her cloud her rational judgment (not ignoring her development throughout the series that has also impacted her but just focusing on the episode).

Outside the Library

After Amity is fired, Luz immediately apologizes but Amity stops her. Both have become upset from the incident but for different reasons. (This analysis/interpretation mostly comes from halcyonhyacinth on Twitter and Tumblr. I highly recommend following her. Awesome writer!) (https://psychotakublabs.tumblr.com/post/656478634193928192/all-of-this-this-scene-was-so-powerful-and-well)

Amity is upset because she did lose her job but also because of her conflicting emotions and actions. "Being around you makes me do stupid things and I wish it didn't." Amity was raised in a family environment that emphasised high standards and perfection. Before Luz showed up, she had to be perfect to live up to her parent's expectations and had to think about her actions as well as control her emotions. However, Luz has changed her perspectives on life and Amity's new found feelings for Luz makes her become more impulsive to help Luz. Because Luz is her first crush, she is still navigating these feelings that make her do the opposite of what she normally does. Amity has every right to be upset because she lost her job and somewhat blames Luz for it because of her new found feelings. It's not till she sees Luz cry and hears her say she does the same does she realize her feelings may not be strange and one sided. Now lots have interpreted this interaction as a confession which is a part of it. But it is more of a confession of vulnerability and confusion than love, but that doesn’t mean it could have come out as having feelings for one another as well. Another part of Amity’s reactions is how Amity has affected Luz to the point she is upset as well (maybe even thinking her words hurt Luz) and that her feelings and actions are similar. Instead of taking her frustration out on Luz, she decides to go home to calm down and think more about her feelings. Amity is still dealing with her budding feelings towards Luz and it's understandable why she is so upset both from being fired and her conflicting emotions.

Luz is afraid she will lose Amity because she got her fired. After Amity says she does stupid things when around Luz and wish she didn’t do them, Luz is so upset she cries. This is probably related to her experiences in the Human Realm. In the Human Realm, Luz’s impulsive actions have freaked out others and is used to others pushing her away. Luz is starting to develop feelings for Amity and she is scared she has pushed her away because of her reckless behavior. This is different from the Human Realm because Luz truly cares for Amity and doesn’t want to lose her as a friend. Luz tries to reassure Amity she is not the only one who acts rash. When Amity leaves, Luz pushes her insecurities and sadness aside to get Amity’s job back. We are seeing more of Luz’s insecurities from the Human Realm throughout Season 2. For example, Luz feels guilty about Eda losing her powers and goes on a life threatening journey to make it up to her in “Separate Tides”. This probably stemmed from her experiences with her mom in the Human Realm whenever she got in trouble and burdened her mother. In “Through the Looking Glass Ruins”, fear of losing Amity comes from her experience of others pushing her away and is afraid it will happen with Amity. Luz has a lot of self-blame because of her prolonged experiences in the Human Realm. However, Luz pushes those feelings down to make it up to Amity by getting her job back. Although Luz did mess up and cost Amity her job, she is willing to amend her mistakes not only to make Amity happy but because she truly cares for her even if she loses her as a friend.

Blight Manor

Amity and Emira have a heart to heart conversation about Amity’s feelings towards Luz. She confesses that these new feelings towards Luz are confusing and scare her because she has never had these thoughts and emotions before. Emira reassures her it’s okay to have these feelings since it makes her happier. After brushing her hair, Emira notices Amity is still conflicted and brings up her roots showing and offering to re-dye her hair. Amity decides to cut and dye her hair purple. This is important in Amity’s development because she wants to be independent from her mother’s control and become the person she wants to be by doing something she wants. Even if she will get in trouble or others don’t like it, she is willing to have a fresh start as the person she wants to be. In fiction and real life, changing hair styles can be symbolic of changing one’s self and a powerful message of being who you want to be. What may seem like a small step is actually a huge achievement for Amity because changing her hair, that was once being forced to dye green for color coordination by her mother, to a shorter cut and purple color is her way of acting on her own and being the person she wants to be.

Luz was ready to face rejection from Amity but was willing to at least give her job back. Luz has shown time and time again how far she will go to help her friends. She even understood why Amity would want to push her away and was prepared for it. What she was not prepared for was seeing Amity’s new look. After explaining how she got Amity’s job back, Amity notices the echo mouse and Luz catches the little pest. After seeing the echo mouse shows Philip’s first diary entry, Luz thanks the mouse and hopes they can be friends. It’s great to see how far Luz will go to help her friends, even if she is the one who caused the mistake.

After Amity notices Luz’s kindness (looking at her library card), she decides to be bold and give Luz a kiss on the cheek. Both are shocked at what just happened. Amity becomes flustered, bids Luz farewell “forever”, and wonders why she kissed Luz on the cheek. Again, Amity is still confused with her crush on Luz and needs time to sort those feelings out. Luz becomes more smitten with Amity and falls to the ground. She probably never thought Amity would reciprocate her feelings or think Amity may have the same feelings. In the Human Realm, Luz is used to being pushed away and Amity kissing her on the cheek is so shocking, she goes weak and falls on her knees. This is a first for Luz as well as she is navigating her feelings towards Amity. Both may know they have feelings towards each other. However, neither one is going to admit it for a while because these feelings are new to them. For Amity, her crush is entirely new to her and she has to figure out what they are and how she wants to move forward with them. With Luz, her feelings towards Amity are mostly about accepting the fact it’s not one-sided and to figure out how she wants to act on these feelings. Both need to navigate their own feelings first before moving further in their relationship. I am curious as to how they will interact after that scene, because both have to realize that kiss was beyond platonic and it may get more awkward for them later in the series. We will have to wait a while before getting more Lumity progress in “The Owl House”

The Lumity in this episode was written and animated very well and is important for viewers and future animated series. First off, is the fact a Disney animated series shows a main cast progressing as an LGBTQ couple in the middle of a series. LGTBQ couples/soon-to-be couples/characters in children’s animation are usually confirmed at the end of the series, never confirmed at all but hinted (queerbaiting), background characters with little screen time, villains, or killed off. It’s both unbelievable yet wonderful to see an LGBTQ couple, especially with two teen characters, become canon. Not imaginative from fanfiction or made canon in comics but in the series at the beginning of Season 2. This is huge because not many networks, let alone one as big as Disney, have confirmed an LGBTQ character and couple early on in a show. I have hope that it will give inspiration to other major studios to follow suit with more stories with representation like “The Owl House”. One of my favorite aspects of Lumity in the series is it normalizes queer young love. This includes the complexities of newfound feelings of young love and navigation of first love. There is little to no animated series, at least in children’s animation, that have characters like Amity and Luz having feelings for each other and navigating those feelings in the middle of the series. It shows queer children and teens it’s okay to feel this way because it’s normal! Just like how it is normal for heterosexual teens to have the same feelings and actions to young love. To some it may not be a big deal, but as someone who came out as a lesbian at age 13 (2006-2007) and lives off of cartoons, anime, manga, comics, and books, there was basically nothing that felt close to how my high school experiences of young romance were. It is very refreshing and hopeful to see young LGTBQ youth see a Disney show have canon queer characters and the main cast a canon queer couple with normalized and realistic experiences. How it’s confusing but wonderful to have these feelings like everyone else. “The Owl House” continues to push the boundaries of children’s animation and the queer representation is continuing to be phenominal and wonderful!

#the owl house #toh spoilers #through the looking glass ruins #toh gus #toh luz #toh amity #lumity #toh analyse #luz noceda #amity blight #emira blight #toh emira #the owl house season 2 #toh

[lansplaining]

Can we, pretty please, get some Xiyao for JGY's birthday? 33. Tasting their smile.

(i mean even the official twitter said xiyao rights, so who am i to contradict them?)

Meng Yao doesn't know how to explain to Lan-gongzi (Xichen, he says to at call him Xichen) that he is too beautiful to let outside. He does not look like an ordinary person in a town like this-- he doesn't even look like a poor scholar, or young lord. Meng Yao sometimes, guiltily, wondered how his mother knew for sure his father was a cultivator, but seeing Xichen-- well, you know, don't you. You know, here is a man with more than usual grace and strength. Here is a man with an extra light in him.

"There are still rumors of Wen patrols," Meng Yao says. "Until they've moved through the area, it is safer for you to stay inside."

"I'm not so sure a given Wen cultivator would recognize me," Xichen says.

Anyone would, Meng Yao thinks, and says, "But it could be anyone. Someone who does."

And Xichen concedes that this is very true, and says no more about it. He's polite and helpful, keeping the little--well, it's hard to call it a house, it's in point of fact an abandoned barn on the outskirts of a village-- their dwelling tidy, adept at chores once he's worked out how to do them. Meng Yao does odd jobs for a store owner in town, and listens to rumors, and tries to work out whether the Wen have moved on in their search for the missing Lan sect heir. On a day when there's no work to be had, he makes his way back in the late morning and finds Xichen sorting stacks and stacks of books and scrolls. He looks up guiltily when Meng Yao comes into the little yard, as if he's been caught at something.

"Where did you get these?" Meng Yao asks, unable to keep a touch of wonder from his voice.

"I've had them all along," Xichen replies. "They're... it's what's left of my sect's library. I thought it was finally time to make sure none of them were damaged when-- when I fled."

"You..." Meng Yao shakes his head, huffing a breath of a laugh as he kneels down on the ground beside the books, and beside Xichen. "You're remarkable, Lan-gongzi."

"Please don't call-- and I'm very much not." He frowns down at the scroll in his hands. "Anyone could have shoved books into a qiankun pouch and fled. I understand why it had to be me, but... that is a question of circumstance, not merit."

Meng Yao catches himself staring in disbelief, then quickly looks away. "La-- Xichen-ge must trust that, from the perspective of ordinary people like myself, he is very remarkable indeed."

"You are not just an ordinary person," he protests. "You are-- you've saved my life. You've taken steps towards developing a golden core all on your own. You have such intelligent opinions about things you have read, and memorize verse so quickly. You took in a complete stranger, and have endangered your life to protect me with no hope of any gain at all. That is all-- you are--"

"That's not--"

"--remarkable," Xichen concludes firmly. "Extraordinary."

After a silence that stretches on much too long, Meng Yao says, "I don't know what to say."

"You needn't reply." Xichen smiles. His smiles are frequent, but often small and wan. "It is simply true. I admire you more than any cultivator I have yet met."

He sputters. "That's not-- Lan-gon--"

"Please, Xichen."

"Xichen--"

"A-Yao simply must trust that, from the perspective of this humble one, he is very remarkable indeed."

(This is how your mother felt, says a cold hard something deep inside of him.)

(But Xichen doesn't have a cold hard something in him, he has a golden core as full and bright as the sun, and that light-- that light--)

"A-Yao... can I...?"

He's already leaning forward. He can feel, as their lips meet, the real shape of Xichen's smile.

(prompts here)

#jgy birthday fic #my fic

[joaquinwhorres]

The Fool (Ch. 6) {Fred Weasley x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› After getting tangled up with the Weasley Twins during the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Wren Collings’ life takes a turn for the chaotic. It threatens everything she has going for her, but she’s not convinced that’s entirely a bad thing.

PAIRING ››››› Fred Weasley x Female OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 4,589

WARNINGS ››››› There is no depression or mental health issues in this story, but there are mentions of death, violence, abuse, some PTSD, etc. As most of the specific warnings revolve around major plot points or are found throughout most chapters, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG-13.

A/N ››››› General plea for validation through reblogs and comments.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net | Read on AO3

Wren felt sick all morning.

Ever since Fred and George had been escorted off to the Hospital Wing by Lee Jordan, she felt as if her stomach was twisting in on itself. She supposed this was a natural reaction to sending your friends to the Hospital Wing--a theory that was further solidified throughout the day as it seemed like everybody was talking about the failed attempts to enter the Tournament. Fred and George were not the only ones thwarted by the ageline, but their story was by far the most popular throughout the castle. Wren had even heard a group of ghosts gossiping about it, and several portraits had stopped her on her way to the common room to interrogate her about the incident and settle a debate as to whether their beards had gone down to their waist or their ankles.

The Common Room was not much safer in terms of avoiding talk of the Failure. Lee Jordan appeared to be holding court in the corner, recounting the story from his perspective to an enraptured audience, and even up in her room, Wren couldn't seem to get away from the terrible feeling that had made itself right at home in her core. Even her Potions' homework wasn't enough to distract her from the fact that Fred and George still hadn't made their way up to the common room yet, and it was nearing lunch.

Which was why right before noon, Wren found herself hovering outside the Hospital Wing.

It seemed to be busier than normal, which wasn't that much of a surprise, given how many names of unsuccessful entrants Wren'd heard other students throw around. She had to admit though, that she was a bit surprised at how raucous the noise was. Wren edged a bit closer to the open door, one voice rising above the others in an uncanny imitation of an old Scottish woman. "Albus, last year a known murderer and pack of Dementors roamed the school, and the year before that the heir of Slytherin opened the Chamber of Secrets. Perhaps, we could open it up to all students turning 17 this year?"

A slow measured voice responded, "Now, now, Minerva. Dementors and Basilisks are one thing, but a student died over 200 years ago from this Tournament. And even though it's now Ministry sanctioned, and we could potentially make it a tad bit safer, we must remain true to the spirit of the games, and only students who are of age can enter."

"But Albus, a student died--"

Footsteps rounded the corner, and Wren jumped back whirling on the couple who just came down the hallway.

Not a couple.

The bronze haired boy who was smirking as he said something to the girl walking beside him was Simon. He looked up from the blonde, his eyes landing on Wren who was just a step away from entering the Hospital Wing, and surprise quickly overtook his features. Still, he didn't look quite as surprised as Wendy Fairchild did, her cheeks turning a delicate pink.

"Wren?" Simon said, as if he couldn't believe that she was actually there. Then again, she could count the number of times she'd been to the Hospital Wing over the past six years on her fingers, so maybe it wasn't entirely unreasonable for him to be so shocked. Her eyes were drawn once again to Wendy, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable and very trapped. Simon stepped away from the blonde and towards Wren. "Did something happen? Are you alright?"

Her eyes shifted to the Hospital Wing's door, the noise suddenly quelled by the sound of a sharp admonishment. "I had a stomach ache, is all," Wren said, stepping further away from the door.  "Hi Wendy."

"Hi Wren," Wendy greeted, her eyes darting between the couple as the tension between the three thickened. The blonde Ravenclaw licked her lips, her eyes darting for Simon as if he'd provide a way out of the awkward situation but he was focused on Wren, the worry gone from his face, and a cool stoniness taking over in its place. A small sigh escaped Wendy. "Well, I best be going. Thank you again for the help, Simon," she offered a brief strained smile at the couple before hurrying off down the hallway.

Wren looked down at the stones between her and her boyfriend, eyes studying the grooves and dimples.

"I heard about what happened to Fred and George," Simon remarked, and Wren's stomach rolled. Words bubbled up, excuses and explanations and apologies all at the tip of her tongue as she looked up at him, but he continued. "I'm sure you see now why I didn't want you to do it."

Wren flushed and nodded her head, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Simon I--"

"It's ok, Wren," Simon cut her off, stepping forward and folding her into his arms. "I forgive you." He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hand. "At least you realized how foolish it'd be and pulled out."

Wren offered up a shaky smile which dissolved as Simon bent forward and kissed her, before releasing her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe next time, you'll just listen to me."

The sick feeling in her gut was worse, her insides churning in protest even as she kept her lips sealed shut, keeping her confession trapped inside. Simon looked down at her, seeming to note her silence.

He sighed, withdrawing his arm from around her. "You might as well just ask, I know what you're wondering."

Wren's brow furrowed in confusion as she cast him a look. "What I'm wondering?"

"Wren, I'm not stupid. I saw the look you gave me with Wendy, and I see the look you're giving me now. You're easy to read."

Realization dawned on Wren at what he was implying, and she quickly stumbled over her words. "Simon, I--"

"She needed help with her Alchemy work, and that's it. Nothing happened."

"I know--" Wren started again, but Simon cut her off.

"I made one mistake," Simon said. "One. And you and I both know that you're just as responsible for it happening as I am."

Wren looked to the ground, nodding her head. "I know. I…" she trailed off. "You're right. I shouldn't have even wondered. I'm sorry."

Simon sighed, his arm going around her shoulders once more. "I forgive you, I just wish you'd believe me that I love you."

"I do," Wren said, looking up into his face. "I know you love me."

He nodded solemnly. "More than anyone else ever could," he said before pressing his lips to hers and whisking her away to lunch.

Wren spent most of her lunch picking at her food and absentmindedly listening to Alicia's ranting about her parents and their post-Hogwarts desires for her and to Katie's wondering about whether everything Professor Moody did was strictly legal.

If the other girls noticed that Wren hadn't really touched her food or seemed to be preoccupied, they didn't say anything. It's possible a look was shared, but she didn't catch it.

Instead, she sat there distracted until she noticed her dorm mates getting up from the table, and she did the same, leaving behind a half full plate to follow them up to the common room.

There, she lost four games of Exploding Snap in a row, and was in the middle of losing a fifth when Fred and George burst through the portrait hole, announcing their arrival with a chorus of "Heyyyyy".

Wren's head snapped to them, watching as the twins modeled their newly clean-shaven faces, stroking the smooth skin of their chins to a smattering of applause and laughter.

Fred scanned the common room, his eyes locking on hers once he found her. He navigated his way around the couches and chairs to her. "There she is…" Fred said as he approached, and she flinched. Alicia tapped the stack of cards and looked entirely unapologetic as Wren glared at her.

"Cheater."

"Hardly," the other girl returned, twirling her wand between her fingers.

Fred plopped himself next to Wren as George sat next to Alicia, throwing himself into her lap. She shoved him off, and with a dramatic sigh, he switched to laying in Angelina's.

"About time you're back," Angelina said, tugging at George's ear. He winced, swatting her hand away. "How long does it take to fix a couple of beards anyway?"

"Longer when Dumbledore interrogates us for the secrets of our near success," Fred said, catching Wren's startled glance. "Don't worry--we told him we couldn't divulge any information."

"He seemed to understand but mentioned he'd be much obliged if the recipe  should ever end up under his office door," George said with a grin at Wren.

She flushed, shaking her head. "It didn't even work. I mean you two could have ended up--"

"Maybe it didn't work, Fred cut her off. But no one else even made it through the age line. We're the only ones to have crossed it."

"It was a good bit of magic, Wren," George agreed.

"But it just as easily could have landed you in the Hospital Wing for more than a few hours," Wren argued, and the group exchanged looks.

"I thought we'd been over this," George said, sitting himself up. "It was a minor risk, yeah, but we've taken bigger risks with our own testing."

"Besides, I doubt Dumbledore would have put any enchantment on the Goblet that could harm students if the whole point was to keep underage witches and wizards from entering," Angelina reasoned.

Wren wet her lips, turning this over in her mind. She still couldn't help but feel guilty for her failure, but what made her feel even worse was not the fact that she could have hurt Fred and George, but that she was disappointed her potion hadn't succeeded.

"Come on," Fred said, nudging her shoulder with his own. "You've got to admit, it was at least a bit thrilling to give it a go."

The corner of her lips traitorously twitched up. Around her, her friends made sounds of approval, George even reaching forward to shake her leg excitedly.

"He really came to ask you about the potion?" Wren asked, and Fred nodded solemnly.

"Seemed genuinely interested too," George added.

Wren offered a real smile then, and the group seemed to (accurately) take that as an end to the  conversation.

The rest of the afternoon passed happily. George finally ended Alicia's streak in Exploding Snap and Lee came into the Common Room about an hour later and recounted recent would-be entrants' failures for them. Now that Wren wasn't wracked with worry and guilt with Fred and George, she was able to laugh along with the rest of the group, especially over Lee's dramatic impersonation of Milicent Bulstrode breaking down into hysterics over her newfound beard.

By the time it was dinner, the events of the morning felt like they had passed weeks ago, and Wren traipsed down to the Great Hall with the group more than ready for the Halloween feast.

She wasn't, however, ready for the selection of Champions. Her heart stilled for a moment as Cedric's name was pulled from the cup, her eyes skipping over the group of Hufflepuffs shaking his shoulders and cheering, and instead focusing on Nora.

If Wren were in Nora's shoes, she'd be pale. But instead her cousin was alternating between clapping loudly and cupping her hands around her mouth to cheer.

She was only silenced when a fourth name came out of the cup.

In fact, the whole Great Hall went quiet for a beat. And then another one. And then the whispers started, moving through the room like wind rustling through the trees.

"Harry got his name in?" Angelina hissed next to Wren.

"How?" Katie whispered back, her eyes moving to Wren, but Wren was already focused on Harry, whipping his head around with surprise and saying something hushed and quick to his friends. Dumbledore called him up to the front table and her eyes followed his path, a clawing tightness in her chest as she watched him pass behind Fred.

How had he, a fourth year who by all accounts was not the smartest in his year, managed to get across the age line when the combined minds of her, Fred, George, and Lee hadn't managed it?

Her jaw clenched as a hand closed over hers. "Hey," George said, leaning across Angelina to get her attention. "If You-Know-Who wasn't able to kill him as a baby, you won't be able to now, even with that look."

The joke, coupled with Harry's disappearance into the chamber behind the professors' table, drew the small group's attention to Wren.

"I'm not trying to kill him," Wren protested as Dumbledore and other adults disappeared into the back room as well. With the disappearance of those in charge, the hall grew noisy once more, the chatter electric. "I just don't understand how he got in is all."

The look of mild annoyance on Fred's face melted as he took her in. "She's jealous!"

"Am not," Wren huffed.

"Come on, Wren, a win for Harry is a win for Gryffindor," Angelina said, but her smile was a bit tight, and Wren felt a bit embarrassed at being jealous when Angelina, who had legitimately entered, hadn't been chosen.

"And more than that," Fred said, bending his head forward conspiratorially. "It's a reason to party."

By the time Harry Potter, the guest of honor and very reason for the party, arrived at the Gryffindor common room, the party was in full swing. Students had come together to lay out a solid stash of snacks on a few tables, and Fred and George had procured a few cases of Butterbeer in a suspicious amount of time. This of course meant that everyone was almost vibrating with excitement to greet Harry. Indeed, all of Wren's friends left her the moment he came through the portrait hole to bombard him with well wishes and questions.

Wren, for her part, hung back with Alicia, making her way through a bag of crisps while staring warily at Harry. "Reckon he'll tell anyone how he did it?" Wren asked as Alicia took a long sip from her butterbeer.

"Harry?" Alicia asked, her voice a bit raw from the carbonation. "Probably not. He's rather tight-lipped. It'd be easier to get it out of Ron."

Wren nodded, scanning the room for the twins' younger brother. As her gaze skipped from redhead to redhead, none of them belonged to Harry's best friend. "Where is Ron?"

"This is really bothering you, huh," Alicia asked, her expression sympathetic. "I know you wanted it to work, but honestly Wren, it was always a long shot. The twins knew that."

Wren had no intention of trying to get Ron Weasley to tell her how Harry entered, but she would have been lying if she dismissed Alicia's claim outright.

She had known it'd been a long shot too. She always had a healthy dose of skepticism throughout the endeavor.

But she couldn't get rid of the small, irritating feeling of disappointment that scratched at the back of her mind.

She doubted Dumbledore would want her potion recipe now that someone had had an actually successful workaround.

"Why the long face?" Fred asked, walking back up with George. Over their shoulders, Wren could see Lee tying the Gryffindor banner around Harry's shoulders.

The two followed her gaze and Fred snorted. "Still on about that, then?"

"No," Wren said petulantly. The twins exchanged a knowing look, and she scowled, swatting at them. "I'm not!"

Fred's eyes darted over her shoulder, and she whipped around to catch Alicia mid-nod before pretending she was sipping from her drink.

"I'm not!"

Fred and George exchanged another look, although this one seemed to be more of a conversation between two pairs of eyebrows than just a look.

"Alicia, we're stealing Wren," Fred announced, wrapping an arm around Wren's shoulders and guiding her forward before Alicia could even respond to the statement. George trailed after the two of them, the group stopping in a relatively quiet nook of the common room, away from the thick of the party.

"It has recently come to our attention that you, Wren Collings, are a natural born inventor."

Wren quirked an eyebrow, staring dubiously back at Fred. "What?"

"You're upset that you didn't find the solution to the age line and Harry did," George filled in.

"Plus, you greatly enjoyed the plotting involved in making our potion," Fred nodded.

"So we were talking…" George started

"And we think you'd be an excellent addition to the Weasley Wizard Wheezes product development team," Fred finished with a smile.

"The what?"

"Fred and I have always dreamed of opening a joke shop. We've been working on a few products over the summer," George explained.

"Fake wands."

"Tom-tongue toffees."

"Trick quills."

"And we think that your mind and potions and Herbology expertise would help us with our next  venture," Fred said.

"Your next venture?" Wren repeated.

"Puking pastilles," the twins chorused with a nod.

"Puking pastilles." What they were proposing was so ridiculous, Wren wasn't able to come up with a coherent original thought. Instead she was turning the idea over in her mind--product development with the Weasley twins. It was true she'd enjoyed developing the aging potion with them, but that had been a one time thing. A deal. And even then it hadn't worked. Now they wanted her to come up with entirely original recipes for members of the public to eventually consume? She could poison all of London. Or worse, she could--

"You're spiraling," Fred said matter of factly. "I can see it right here," he said, poking at the crease between her eyebrows, and Wren slapped his hand away. He grinned at her. "Come on Wren, this is an exciting new venture. Nothing to get too in your head about at this stage."

"I just don't think I--"

"If this is going to be another self-deprecating statement, I should warn you. You're wasting your breath," George interrupted, holding up a hand.

"We happen to think you are nothing short of a genius, and there isn't anything you can say to convince us otherwise," Fred added.

Wren blinked at them. "I--" they cast her reproachful looks and she switched directions. "Thank you."

Fred smiled. "I'm going to take that as confirmation that you're in."

Wren shook her head, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It would be easy to tell them no. To stick to the plan of just studying for her classes and spending free moments trying to track down Simon. But she didn't want to.

"Yeah," Wren said with a tentative smile. "I'm in."

While working with Fred and George on the creation of puking pastilles was fun and often led to Wren laughing so hard her sides hurt, it was still, at its core, work . She was fairly certain she had never used her brain so much. Not even for NEWT-level Potions or Transfiguration.

Still, there were far worse uses of her time than being tucked away in the common room or a corner of the library, drawing up plans and theories with Fred and George and sometimes Lee.

"I need a break," Wren announced, placing her book on top of the stack they had pulled.

"Breaks are for the faint of heart," George said automatically, not even bothering to look up from his reading. It had been the line the three used to keep each other on track.

"I fear I'm going into heart failure," Wren answered, dramatically, dropping in her chair. "If I have to read another line about common Italian plants' side effects, I think my heart will finally give out."

"Alright Georgie, I think a break's in order. We don't want poor Wren's heart to explode," Fred said, snapping his book shut.

"So when Wren's going through heart failure, we get a break, but when I'm dying of boredom, you just eulogize me."

"That's about the size of things," Fred nodded, and George grinned, shutting his book and looking over at the two. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he had the chance, a look of curious confusion crossed his face.

"Hullo," he greeted, and Wren turned to see Simon walking towards the group.

"Hi, love," Wren smiled up at Simon. His bronze hair curled above his eyes, and she reached out a hand for him. He shot a quick look at her and then at the Weasley twins, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets. Wren curled her hand back in, resting it on her shoulder as if that was what she intended to do. "What are you doing here?"

"Searching for my girlfriend," Simon offered a small smile. "Have you seen her?

"Simon," Wren laughed lightly as Fred and George exchanged mortified looks at the excuse of a joke.

"Oh! I hardly recognized you. Haven't seen you in ages."

"Ha ha, very funny," Wren smiled and let out an exhale as if he was joking, but he had that look in his eyes that she knew too well. He turned to Fred and George.

"So you're the reason my girlfriend's gone missing."

"What can I say, our presence is a delight." It wasn't the tone of Fred's voice as much as the look of George's face that made her stomach drop.

"Thank you for sharing Wren with us," George stepped in. "Must be hard to let this one go."

"Indeed," he swiveled to Wren. "Speaking of which, have a second?" Simon asked, flashing a seemingly charming smile. Wren looked up at him, and a flash of fear, which she hoped was unnoticeable, crossed her face. She slowly nodded.

"For you? Always," she said, standing up to follow him. Had he heard about George? What did he want? She had heard that tone of voice before, and it never ended well. She followed him a couple of rows over so that it was deserted and nobody would hear them.

"I didn't realize you three were so close," he commented, his voice still friendly, but in the dangerous phase. If Wren thought that her research was going to give her heart failure, she was certain that this conversation might give her a heart attack. It pounded away in her chest, as she racked her brain for an explanation. She had a feeling after Simon's reaction to the aging potion that he wouldn't particularly care for the truth.

"We're not that close," Wren dismissed. "We've just been studying together this year, is all. They're a whiz at Charms, and honestly this NEWT schedule is keeping me so busy--"

"Wren," Simon stopped her. "Don't insult my intelligence."

"What?"

"You're lying. I can see it all over you. What are you really up to with them?"

"What am I really up to?" Wren repeated, her heart beating faster. "Studying. Simon, where is this coming from? Why are you upset?"

"Why am I upset?" Simon asked. "After how you acted when you saw me walking down the hall with Wendy? I should have seen that you were projecting--accusing me of cheating while you're off spending your  afternoon in a dark corner of the library with the Weasley twins!"

"Simon, it's not like that. You've just been busy and I—" Wren started to argue, jerking away and shutting her mouth quickly as Simon shoved a finger in her face.

"Do not turn this into my fault."

"It's nobody's fault. There's nothing wrong here!" Wren began to grow hysterical. "You're reading into things that aren't there."

"So I'm crazy?" He dropped his hand, but moved closer to her, and she took a half step back.

"No, of course not," Wren held her temples "I just--there's no reason to be upset. I would never choose them over you. I-I'll go tell them I have to go. We can go to the courtyard, or wherever you want. "

"Don't even bother. I don't want to be your pity pick. Just go back to them," Simon scoffed, shaking his head. "At this point, I'm used to being left behind. Makes sense you'd do it too."

"Simon, I'll come with you. Just let me get my stuff. Please--" Wren reached forward grabbing his arm, and he snatched it away from her, sending her toppling into a bookshelf. A few books came loose, tumbling to the floor in a messy pile.

"You always do this," Simon's lip curled. "Make a mess of everything. I wonder if your precious twins will put up with half the things I do." Wren watched him leave, trying to blink back the tears forming in her eyes. He was right. She did always make a mess of things. She knew what she should have done--what she should have said. She should have packed up as soon as he came over. She should have told the twins she'd see them in class and told him she had more than a second--she had hours for him. She shouldn't have argued.

Wren wiped away a few tears as she bent down to begin picking up the books and finding their proper places. Footsteps approached the end of the aisle, and her head snapped, hoping Simon had come back.

"Everything ok?" Fred asked, standing at the end of the aisle where Simon had been moments before. Wren quickly glanced back at the book she was shoving into the shelf, as if that would hide her splotchy red face.

"Fine," her voice came out high and not quite as lighthearted as she'd hoped.

"And that's why you've decided to take up a part time job as a librarian?"

She let out a sigh that could maybe possibly be construed as a laugh. "No, I just--um--we stumbled into the books." She hoped that would explain the red face if not for Simon's conspicuous absence.

"Ah," Fred nodded, and she could hear the disbelief in his voice. "And where is the other half then?"

“He…he had to run off. Prefect duties. I told him I'd handle it.”

Fred's eyes rested on her, as she picked up another book and shoved it between two other ones, not able to even concentrate on making sure they were in alphabetical order. She couldn't understand why Fred had taken it upon himself to interrogate her. He was silent even as she picked up another book, as if for once he were carefully choosing his words.

"Must've run off pretty quick. I came as soon as I heard the books."

It was Wren's turn to furrow her brow at him. "Why?"

“What happened here?” George appeared over Fred's shoulder, stopping him from continuing the sentence.

“Simon couldn’t keep his hands off Wren,” Fred said to George. Wren flushed from the choice of words.

George wiggled his eyebrows at Wren. “Kinky.”

She turned redder if possible and Fred’s jaw ticked.

“Need a hand?”

Despite the fact that George asked the question, Wren looked at Fred. “That would be lovely.”

George moved around Fred and picked up the last few books, sliding them onto the shelf.

“Thanks, George,” Wren smiled. He reached over and squeezed her hand. His brow furrowed slightly. Wren looked over his shoulder at Fred who caught her eye before turning and heading back towards their seats. She looked back at George and offered a tight smile, standing up. "Let's go back to take our break."

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley x f!oc #fred weasley imagine #weasley twins #weasley twins fic #weasley twins imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter fic #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter book 4 #fred and george #fred and george weasley #series: the fool #fred wealsey x wren collings #wren collings x fred weasley #oc: wren collings

[funkymbtifiction]

Are you mistyped?

I realize it could sound cheeky to 'type the typist' but I've noticed a strange contradiction in your posts and I just wanted to share. Keep in mind this is only out of curiosity, not meant to offend.

Eh, it's par for the course. One guy accused me of being an ESTJ just because when asked to describe Ne, I didn't use a metaphor. ;)

You've identified as an ENFP for years, but the way you respond to people on this blog seems - very Si-Fe. Hear me out.

I've noticed that when anybody suggests an alternative or new approach to MBTI, you usually shoot them down. Like posters who've suggested that there could be more function combinations beyond the 16; that people's types can change as they grow; that it could be possible to change the definition of an enneagram, that you can develop another type's functions, etc. Each time, your response is a NOPE. You don't shoot them down to be unkind, it's just - you explain that this is how it is, this is what the books say, this is how it works, we need to stick to it, the framework we have now is working just fine for understanding each other, so quit with the rabbitholes.

Kind of like 'We have a nice tidy framework and need to keep things neat so we can understand each other for the greater good, so let's not mess with the way things are!' This is very Si-Fe. You build up a vast storehouse of type expertise in your mind based on what posters say/your encounters with people in your life, and you adapt your knowledge to your experiences, but you never deviate from the original theory and seem reluctant to consider any changes to it, even after almost a decade (high Si/inferior Ne).

By contrast, I have an ENFP in my life who's certified in MBTI and her approach is very Ne-Fi - innovate, experiment, be open to fresh perspectives, add, change, revise. In fact, although she did a course in MBTI and Enneagram and actually worked as a practitioner for a while, she ultimately left the theories because she felt they were stagnating - it wasn't intellectually stimulating for her because she felt the typology community was never open to change. Whenever she tried to introduce a new idea ('How can you be so sure that there are only 9 types of fears?' 'Look at motivation psychology, there's so much evidence to show that people's core motivations can change!' 'What makes you think that there are only four dominant cognitive functions?' 'Dude, having only 16 function stacks doesn't make sense') the typology community usually preferred to just stick to the status quo. 

Her Fi also revolted against the idea that people should be pigeonholed for the common good. I think if you had high Fi, you wouldn't find it so easy to make snap judgements about people on this blog or tell them that they can or can't define themselves in certain ways. I'm not saying your approach is wrong - just saying that Fi-users are usually more inclined to appreciate people's individuality and balk at excess group categories. For comparison, I know another ENFP who dabbled in MBTI and her Fi made her judgements of others very tentative ('I think you use Se but if you disagree, that's OK because ultimately you know yourself best, who am I to tell you how to identify' etc). Your responses are much more Fe ('group categories are necessary for social harmony and lessening conflict', 'yes, people are individuals, but they also show predictable patterns and roles' 'this is for the greater good'). Neither approach is right or wrong, just reflects different cognition imo.

For these reasons I feel you are actually on the Si-Fe axis, and are confusing a high level of creativity and imagination and strong emotions with Ne and Fi. It's very normal for writers of all types to get dozens of ideas while they write or talk - this is more about the psychological workings of imagination and creativity itself than a specific type. A bright, enthusiastic, and creative mind is not necessarily high Ne. And almost everyone would describe themselves as having an internal radar of what feels right or authentic to them (this is a basic component of moral and emotional development in all humans, just read child development psychology, like Piaget and Kohlberg). But that's not necessarily high Fi. I think your approach is Si-Fe. 

Anyway, that's just my thoughts. Not meant to offend because you are doing an excellent job either way!

You're welcome to your opinion, but you're mistaking Te for Fe.

Low Te will shut down anything that seems irrelevant, unnecessary, or confuses the issue. In fact, the examples you gave are Te-based -- this is how it is (fact), this is what books say (factual source), this is how it works (structure), the framework works just fine for what it's for, let's not over-think it (Te). (AKA, Hermione Granger "this is what the book says, Harry!" Te process.)

Low Ti would be tinkering with theory, absorbing it, and trying to make it work, analyzing new information, considering other theories and wanting to include them, but it would lack the sufficient skills to structure it, creating contradictions in its understanding. An SFJ would also be less blunt / straightforward and more aware of hurting people's feelings by dismissing their theories and soften what they have to say about it, rather than just shooting it down. I'm just here to clear up confusion. Sometimes I'm nice to you and sometimes I'm not, it depends on how my day is going and how annoyed I am.

Te becomes frustrated with too much information and asks, "How can I just USE this? By cutting out all the fat! Keep It Simple, Stupid!" If Te decides something works for them as it is, it won't want to consider alternate perspectives, especially if it's put a lot of time and effort into finding out what works. That's why Ti using types are known as innovators, and TJ types are known for implementation. Based on your above argument, you could make a reasonable case for STJ for me, except that high Te is more flexible and willing to adapt. Low Te locks into a stubborn "this works for me, and I don't care about that other thing, so I'm not interested in theorizing about it" mindset. It doesn't mean I don't use Ne, just that I've decided: I like simplicity, this works for me; go somewhere else for Socionics.

Back when I was first learning MBTI, I was soaking up everything like a sponge -- Socionics, MBTI, shadow theory. All it did was create a web of confusion and frustration in my mind, because there were no clear answers anywhere. Everyone was stumbling around blind and leading me around by the nose, because there were no markers for type that couldn't be argued (by FJs) as "something everyone does, because we're all humans!" (Fe). That was incredibly frustrating for me, because the way FJs "equalize" everything erases clear typing parameters and barriers, and blurs the lines between types. I wanted a clear outline for the theory that I could USE, not to be stuck in, "If everyone does this thing, then why are we here???"

I had to divorce myself from all the bad information I learned to find out a solid basis for each function and type. Taking in information and considering every theory without examining it to see if it made the process easier did not help me; it delayed not only my own typing process but that of the people I was interacting with. After several years of foundering around without making any progress, I decided the basics are best. So I focus on those. People come to me for help. The way to help them is to be simple and concise and "basic," not create more confusion. The answer that requires the least amount of explaining is the right one.

#question #mbti

[moonlitceleste]

Elevator Love (Ch. 1)

A/N: Welcome to my first multi-chaptered fic! This was supposed to be a one-shot but I kept writing and here we are. I’m not super happy with this, so I’m probably going to rewrite it eventually. Staring at my document hasn’t seemed to help so far, so I’m probably gonna take a break on this and work on requests. For now, just sit back and enjoy :D

Marinette gnawed on her lip nervously as her fingers toyed with the ladybug keychain on her white crossbody purse.

Her eyes were glued to the towering Wayne Enterprises building before her. The big “W” atop it seemed to stare her down, issuing a silent challenge for her to walk past its doors.

“You got this, Marinette!”

The heroine smiled weakly at Tikki’s assurance—although she did appreciate the sentiment, Marinette wasn’t quite sure she could agree.

She was not prepared to meet Tim whatsoever.

Sure, they had been friends for nearly two years—but regardless, Marinette couldn’t help but stress.

It had all started when Tim decided to commission MDC for a few pieces, offering a large sum of money in exchange for her efforts. Despite being doubtful of whether or not he was truly who he claimed to be, Marinette accepted the request.

Soon enough, back-and-forth emails progressed to casual texting, which led to an eventual friendship. The two seemed to click naturally, which was evident in their smoothly-flowing conversations.

Tim knew everything there was to know about her (barring her identity, of course), yet they had never met in person.

He was the co-CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and she was a prominent designer that moonlighted as a superhero—finding time to video chat one another was hard enough.

But now that Marinette had finished université, she had nothing tying her down to Paris. 19 was a young age to be done with school, but her life wasn’t exactly normal.

That’s why a few weeks before graduation, Marinette decided to email Bruce Wayne.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; Tim had made an offhand remark about how he wished he could be there for her graduation, and the cogs in Marinette’s brain began to turn. Maybe he couldn’t come to Paris, but she could go to Gotham.

Once her mind was made up, it was only a matter of planning.

It was surprisingly easy to get ahold of Tim’s father; from then on, everything else fell into place.

Perhaps attempting to surprise someone as smart as him went against her better judgement, but it was too late to turn back now.

Marinette’s phone pinged, and she scrambled to press her thumb to its home button. Speak of the devil.

Mr. Wayne

It’s ready.

Tell your name to the receptionist at the front desk, and she’ll give you a lanyard with a pass into Tim’s office as well as a set of directions.

I apologize again for not being there to guide you; unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to.

Marinette tucked the gift box she was holding under one arm, freeing her hands to type out a response.

Marinette

Thank you so much for your generosity, M. Wayne!

I really appreciate all your help in planning this, and for allowing me to surprise Tim in the first place.

Despite your busy schedule you’ve gone through so much trouble to help me. I really can’t thank you enough!

Once she pressed send on her last message, Marinette inhaled deeply.

Her hands moved to smooth down the soft fabric of her blush pink dress.

It was an admittedly simple ensemble, but the billowy sleeves and fluttery skirt gave it a delicate flair. Her white strappy sandals, circle purse, and wavy half-up braided hairstyle tied it all together nicely.

Marinette checked herself over one last time to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. She tucked her phone into her purse, grabbed the box containing Tim’s gift, and turned to look at the imposing building with a burst of newfound confidence.

Here we go.

-

“To the right…” Marinette muttered. “Or was it to the left?”

The designer scrunched her nose in confusion, turning around in a circle to better survey the building.

She had already obtained the lanyard and directions, but decided to make a last-minute detour to the bathroom. It shouldn’t have been a problem since Marinette was a few minutes early, but now she was lost. Sure, the place had a fairly open floor plan, but it was enormous! She couldn’t be expected to navigate this.

In hindsight, maybe deciding to deviate from her original schedule had been a mistake.

Marinette sighed and started walking. She didn’t want to disturb anyone, so wandering aimlessly was her only other option.

Well, it wasn’t her only option—she could easily use her Ladybug magic to give herself a push in the right direction, but Tikki would disapprove. Oh, and it was wrong to use her powers for selfish gain. Marinette totally remembered that.

Turns out she didn’t even need to use her Ladybug powers, though; it only took  a few minutes of searching for her to stumble across what she was looking for.

About 10 meters away was a set of elevators lined up against the wall. A glowing “up” arrow was visible on the panel beside a pair of open steel doors.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the sight of the open elevator. She promptly broke into a jog, careful to keep her speed somewhat appropriate for the environment. The doors started to close, and Marinette’s heart raced faster. There was a shadowed figure inside, but due to the angle they likely couldn’t see her.

“Wait!” she called as loudly as she dared.

It was almost funny how similar the experience was to her lycée days.

Marinette pushed the thought to the back of her mind—she would rather not taint her day with memories of that dumpster fire.

She turned her attention back to the elevator, whose doors had retreated. Thankfully, the person inside heard her. Marinette slowed her pace as she covered the last few meters, but was mindful to not walk obnoxiously so.

As she approached her destination, it became increasingly apparent that whoever was inside was remarkably tall.

Ugh, she could practically hear Tim’s jest in her head—are you sure it’s not just because you’re short? He loved to poke fun at her height with short jokes, even though he was only 8 cm taller than her.

Anyways, despite her petite stature, Marinette was sure the person inside would be considered tall by any standards.

She prepared a friendly smile, a “thanks” on the tip of her tongue when they finally came into view.

The first thing she saw was a pair of worn black men’s work boots on what was an admittedly toned body.

Marinette didn’t let her eyes linger on the muscles there, rather opting to trace her gaze from the man’s body up to their face. And wow, was that a gorgeous face.

She wasn’t the type to fall for someone based on appearance alone, but Marinette would be crazy to think this wasn’t the most attractive person she’d ever seen.

He had messy black hair with a pure white streak in the front, tousled to perfection in a way that would make a supermodel jealous. His brilliant green eyes were pools of emerald, richer than any shade she had seen before. Marinette would gladly drown in them.

Speaking of his eyes, he was looking at her with his captivating gaze and mesmerizing face...

Marinette would forever deny swooning at the sight. She would never swoon.

(She totally did.)

Say something! she scolded.

“Uh, than-thank you.”

Oh no. It was the stutter.

Not just a stutter, but the stutter. The one that only appeared when she was nervous and/or talking to hot guys.

Marinette had long outgrown it—or at least, she thought she had—but apparently now it was back with a vengeance.

Her face heated up, and she moved forward to press the button to her designated floor before taking her place some distance away from the man. She turned her head away in embarrassment, hair shielding her face so he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

If she had been looking up, perhaps Marinette would have been prepared for the flood of incoming mass. But she was too busy cursing herself to notice the group of people entering until she felt a nudge on her right side.

Marinette squeaked at the stack of boxes that was suddenly in front of her face and looked up to see a small group of workers entering the elevator, pushing a large platform truck stacked with packages. She shuffled on instinct to make more room.

The cart seemed way too big to fit, especially with the capacity of the elevator. Someone would have to contort themselves, or at the very least they’d be squished up against one another uncomfortably. 

Marinette watched as they pushed the platform truck in all the way. It left the tiniest bit of wiggle room, just enough space for someone to squeeze past.

The designer found herself slowly edging towards her left each time another person wiggled their way past the load.

The elevator wasn’t too crowded, and the process went relatively smoothly—that is, until the last worker attempted to get inside.

He had a build somewhat similar to her Papa: tall and large, so his struggle was understandable. It took a minute of grunts and loud sighs, but he managed to slip past the obstruction and into the elevator.

His large frame, however, meant less space for everyone, and Marinette felt the sudden impact of being shoved.

She couldn’t help the soft yelp that fell out of her mouth as her feet stumbled, and before she knew it her left side was firmly pressed up against someone.

Oh god. It was Hot Guy. Of course it was him.

She pressed her lips together in mortification, arms squeezing Tim’s gift to her chest even tighter.

“Sorry.”

Marinette nearly jumped as the husky voice spoke quietly next to her ear. Her head whipped towards the direction it came from, which wasn’t exactly hard to place. There was only one person on her left side.

She turned her head to face the man with the white streak. She had to crane her neck awkwardly in order to properly see him, which really put into perspective their height difference.

His green eyes were sincere, and Marinette could see the apology in them.

The lack of space wasn’t his fault whatsoever, but it was nice to see someone care about her boundaries.

“U-um, it’s okay.”

Marinette smiled at him shyly, then diverted her eyes away. Her brief burst of courage could only take her so far.

Before she knew it, the ride was over. The elevator stopped with a ding, and coincidentally enough, everyone was headed to the same floor.

Marinette fished out the set of directions Mr. Wayne had written from her purse, skimming over them once more. Her stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of finally meeting her best friend.

She barely noticed the workers pushing out the platform truck or Hot Guy walking away, the outside world long forgotten.

Marinette’s body went on autopilot, following the instructions on the paper until she found herself stopped in front of a sleek door. She didn’t know what it was made of, but she was glad it wasn’t glass like many other things in Wayne Enterprises. That would make her surprise a lot harder to pull off.

Above the key card security system on the left was a name plate, nearly identical to others she had passed on her way here. The name Tim Drake was written in elegant silver cursive letters, the metal gleaming as if it were brand new.

Marinette’s chest tightened in anticipation as she pulled out the lanyard Mr. Wayne had given her. She took a deep breath before knocking twice.

There was a short pause before a familiar voice responded.

“Who is it?”

She scanned her card and opened the door.

“Marinette?!”

-

A/N: For reference, Marinette is 5’3” (160 cm) and Jason is 6’4” (193 cm), so there's a 13" (33 cm) difference. I tried to use French terms and measurements so it'd feel more like Marinette's perspective.

And yea, I'm not super proud of this so I'm probably gonna rewrite it in the future. I have a bunch of other WIPs to work on though, so sorry in advance for my wacky updating schedule!

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

#maribat #celestewrites #timari #platonic timari #jasonette #cel's fics

[starshavegoneastray]

Perfect Lovers

Angst // h.hj

Inspired by Félix González-Torres 'Untitled (Perfect Lovers)' 1991; an installation art.

CW // loss of a loved one

1,923 Words

IT has been a while since Hyunjin came out of his apartment. The door to his unit creaked louder than he anticipated, but couldn’t blame the lack of new oil it required in order to work. Green carpet under his soles felt a little different from the last time he mindlessly trudged and tumbled into his cold unit. Newly painted hall greeted him, and before he knew it, he was waving politely at the landlord as he stepped outside of the building.

His blonde hair, caught by the wind as cars passed by, had gone longer than the last time he locked himself, reaching just above his shoulders in a half up half down. For sure it hadn’t been long, but the new stores that opened up right next to the bakery he visited often made it seem like he’d missed at least three months.

That was enough time for Hyunjin to get cooped up inside his tiny living space, free from any pain he had to endure. It was just the right number of weeks for him to be by himself, to look for some sort of interest in order to get his mind off the unpleasant thoughts hunting him for the past weeks.

Painting was one of the things he did, recalling the amount of oil paints and canvases littering across his apartment floors. He’d given up on sketching because the only image running around his head was you. The outcome made him light a match and let it eat the paper into ashes. A similar occurrence happened the last time he painted, but instead of setting the building on fire he decided to dump a whole bucket of lightning blue over it, then left it as it is in his work room.

Part of him wanted to rekindle that passion again, to get his brush going across the canvas and start over. But he lost the spark to ignite his flames, and morning came to replace the light he lost. Leaving him to scout for some sort of exit during the darkening night. He’d doused himself in bottles and bottles of booze the other night, and woke up the next morning with a booked ticket to an exhibit downtown on his laptop.

Hyunjin took his time wandering amongst the crowd, feeling the warmth of the room as people gathered around a few installations placed along the way, and paintings hung up on walls. Some visitors came in batches of elementary students in their orange uniforms, there were groups of (possibly) art students admiring another philosophical work, then there were the interested couples. He came alone in his cream knit vest, black cross bag and a pamphlet in his hands.

There was a mini map of the exhibition inside the neatly folded paper between his fingers, and he began at the very first spot his eyes landed on which were the paintings. Hyunjin stared at a few fancy frames, before moving along to the next in hopes of catching a glimpse of interest within the colors, the shapes, perspectives, anything.

He looked at his pamphlet again then proceeded to the next part of the exhibit. Sculptures in many shapes and sizes stood on white pedestals, behind glass boxes, and even stood on their own to showcase its amazing heights. More people took pictures here, seeing this is a perfect spot for such activity. Hyunjin, after looking around at the people pulling their phones and posing for the camera, fished for his own from the pocket of his jeans and snapped a clay statue that he thought looked like a memorable piece. A smile crept up his full lips, chuckling as he slid his fingers across the screen at the picture he took.

Y/n would love this.

Hyunjin’s lips faltered slowly. Just when he thought he could put down the weights from his shoulder, he couldn’t. Not now. Not even after three whole months. Every time he gets a little happy, he thinks of you. And you were the reality he’s not ready for. With a push of a button, his screen turned void and he shoved his gadget back from where he took them before walking to the next part of the exhibit.

Nothing caught his eye. Not the paintings, not the statues, not the impressive wall art on one side of the building. For starters, he never really frequently visited an exhibit. He started going to some back in the day because of someone’s influence. Someone who would go out of their way to get two entry tickets and accompany him despite their responsibilities and schedule. The same person who would be the first to point out an artist’s work and the meanings behind the intricate strokes, dents, parts, and smudges. The very individual who taught him how to paint.

He kept glancing back and forth towards the pamphlet once he realized he’s stepping into the installations exhibit; the field of art he’s having trouble understanding. Nothing ever makes sense in his eyes, as his steps progress deeper into more stacks of cups, papers, possibly metals displayed on the floor. His eyes jumped from one installation to the other, and all he could process were the odd-looking mismatched objects glued to one another. But he knew for a fact it was because he did something wrong, not because the language doesn’t click.

Take your time, the three words lingered like an aftertaste of a bitter coffee in the shape of your voice. That was what he did as soon as his eyes landed on two clocks hung up on a wall side by side. Félix González-Torres was written on a card right next to the installation, under the title that named the art:

‘Untitled (Perfect Lovers)'.

Take your time, and it’ll all make sense.

Two of the same clocks ticking by the same exact time like what they are and what they’re intended to do; to tell the time. Their needles ticked by the number ten, then ran past eleven. Hyunjin chuckled after the hour hands slightly moved closer to the number seven simultaneously as the seconds morphed with the minute hand on twelve. Upon closer inspection, it was his first time seeing an hour hand move. Nothing fascinating, but now that he thought about it, he’s a quick-paced guy; he never stopped for once to take in the smallest things around him.

Different from how you were. He could almost see it, you would probably stop on your tracks as well, and stared at the two clocks which bore a deep meaning that only few could understand. Installation is a language that took some time to perceive, it’s a different concept of relaying opinions, messages, or a story. The language of art isn’t just from how visually pleasing it is, but also how the message behind it resonates with the people who interact with it. It’s not what you see in it, but it’s how you feel when you see it. Because it captures emotions and memories that exist without a visual form.

Hyunjin never got that idea through his head, especially when he encountered the particular abstract movements. But perhaps his perspective changed once he noticed the right clock began ticking a little slower than the left, gradually falling behind and out of sync; as many clocks do.

Eventually one of them would stop working as the exhibit went on.

For many reasons, you were the very first person he thought of. Fights were a repetitive occurrence but it never tore you apart from each other. And even when disagreements filled the gap, somehow you both found a way to come to terms with it. Your dynamics brought the best out of him, even he was surprised himself. And the both of you had the craziest idea of holding onto each other, until time did their worst and pulled you apart from his grasp on one spring.

Despite the green hues covering his steps, the grey morning he returned from your funeral was one of the hardest things he had to do. Walking back out was another hell he didn’t want to live in, so he locked himself in where he could succumb into an indefinite amount of sorrow and grief at the loss of the love of his life.

Perhaps the harsh reality pushed him at his worst, locking you up in his attic, only to have you drip down the ceiling and he could only see you, you, and you. Even in his dreams, all he saw was you.

The only argument he couldn’t come to terms with was the fact that you’re not here to hold onto him anymore.

But the title still remains ‘Perfect Lovers’. Even when the two hands fall from each other, going their separate ways, or stop dead on their tracks, they were the best for one another. His heartbreak was the evidence of your unconditional love. A mark that will forever be remembered as your beautiful life that collided with his at the imperfectly perfect timing. Despite the circumstances, despite the abrupt end to your chapter with him, you remain as his perfect lover.

**

It was a small flower shop that opened right next to the bakery Hyunjin stopped by. Warm scent of croissant filled up the air as he leaned back onto the white chair, scrolling back through his phone as another warm loaf met his full lips.

“Did you visit the exhibition?” A voice made him crane his neck to see the owner of the little bakery in his white apron pulling a chair to sit next to Hyunjin. He nodded as a reply, munching slowly at the warm bread while letting his friend see the pictures he took.

“You know, Minho,” Hyunjin began to speak, putting down the goods on the plate as he did so, “I thought my time would stop the second hers did.”

Minho listened intently, not too sure where he’s going with the conversation. “But I guess, even soulmates aren’t synchronized.”

Hyunjin looked around the afternoon sunlit streets. Orange hues kissing the autumn leaves that fall from their respective trees adorning the chalkboard sign he drew an hour ago for the bakery. Minho exhaled, taking Hyunjin’s phone gently and swiping a few pictures until he stopped at one with two store bought clocks that was supposed to be deemed an art.

“Is that another philosophy you learned for today?” The question made the blonde boy lean back on his chair, crossing both arms on his chest and said, like it’s a matter of fact, “It’s a new language I learned.”

A tiny small pulled the sides of Minho’s cheeks at his friend’s little banter, it has been a while since he’d last heard of Hyunjin’s sassy remarks. Pinching and zooming the photo, Minho asks again, “And what do you think about it?”

“I think…”

He thought of your eyes, the crinkly ones every time a smile adorn your face at the paintings he finished, or the paints he threw your way, coloring a few strains of your hair. And the way you cried in front of an art you resonated with the most, as if the world you see was filled with the same frequency of affection, despair, desire, sadness, or happiness that none could muster or perceive. Your heartfelt emotions that never fail to make him fall harder every day. And he knew definitely how you’d feel if you’d come along.

“…Y/n would have loved it as much as I do.”

#imagines #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin #stray kids hwang hyunjin

[awhmilkywey]

burgers and fries | t. carrick |

pairing & genre: tobias carrick x f!mc (ava dahl) — fluffy as hell

warnings: one curse word | english is not my first language

word count: 2.4k

request | prompt | neither | challenge

tags: @usuallyamazinglyaverage ; @perriewinklenerdie ; @cyb3r-kat ; @moonsoltice ; @romewritingshop ; @tsrookie ; @hedwigsbixch

a/n: a special thank you to @usuallyamazinglyaverage @perriewinklenerdie and @cyb3r-kat for allowing me the use of their characters (anna dawson, claire herondale and bianca hemgrove, respectivel) and a bonus to perrie for being generally awesome and helping me out with this fic. You can thank her for the Romeo line!

Ava has a history of flouting protocol to assist her patients.

The machine whirred to life, shooting a steady stream of murky liquid into the small paper cup. Ava skimmed her medical chart while she waited. Her patient was a young adult who came in with severe chest pain and discoloured skin around her calves. The primary doctor wrote down that earlier scans ruled out heartburn as well as pericarditis. She reached for her coffee and took a cautious sip. The blemishes could point towards a blood clot—deep vein thrombosis, perhaps? It could quickly develop into a pulmonary embolism if left untreated.

The nurses' station was relatively quiet when she approached.

“Could you order a lung scan and a chest X-ray for my patient, please?”

Marlene took the chart with a professional nod. Her exhaustion matched her own.

Ava murmured a quiet thank you and tossed her cup in the bin. The results wouldn't be back for a couple hours. If her hunch was correct then she would most likely need to page the surgical department. For now, however, her rounds were finished and she could take a breather.

Her face twisted into a frown as she remembered her bag was still in the conference room. Her confrontation with Harper ensured she had been too uncomfortable to remain there. Ava decided to take the stairs one at a time. Saying she was dreading their next meeting was an understatement. They would need to have a serious conversation with Bloom. Ethan breaching protocol was on him alone. A conversation with Harper was in order as well; earlier she had been caught by surprise but she wouldn't let that kind of treatment stand. Barging in, wrongfully accusing her without any evidence whatsoever, yelling and refusing to believe her even when the culprit was standing right there—Ava wondered when the cool renowned surgeon became an unruly child.

The revelation that Harper still saw her as a reckless intern made her incredibly angry. Her one mistake happened over two years ago and she came forward to shoulder the blame. Ava had grown since then, both as a doctor and as a person. Her near-death experience also served to put things into perspective, to say the least. She would always have the best interest of her patients at heart but she would never again jeopardize her career so foolishly.

That thought brought her back to Ethan. Frankly she didn't recognise him any more. He came back from the Amazon a different man—one she wasn't sure she liked all that much. Their tentative relationship hadn't stood a chance. Him being her attending was difficult enough, then she was facing the possibility of being suspended, and just as she thought they could make it work after all, Naveen promoted her and Ethan was her superior once more. He maintained a painfully professional demeanour around her from there on out. Ava wasn't doing too great during that time.

And when her intern year came to an end, he disappeared. He wasn't answering her calls nor her texts and her trips to his apartment were fruitless. She found out he was out of the country through WHO's Instagram account. She stopped bothering afterwards.

Ava shook her head, red curls bouncing over her shoulders. Dwelling on the past wasn't helpful. Especially when the Ethan from her memories didn't correlate with the Ethan she was currently working with. Her most recent conversations with him left a sour taste in her mouth.

The conference room wasn't as empty as she expected.

“Heading out?” Tobias sent her a warm smile.

“I've some free time to kill.”

He nodded in understanding. “Holding up okay?”

Ava hesitated. It occurred to her that he was the only person she was truly comfortable with on the team. The only one who'd never underestimated her or made her feel lesser.Tobias was the person who either supported her suggestions or countered them with his own logical arguments and used both as teaching opportunities.

“I've been through worse,” she replied, shrugging non-committally.

He scowled. “What Harper did was uncalled for.”

Ava offered him a wry smile. “I have a history, don't you see?”

“Oh you mean the history of being civil to Bloom even though you want to punch his face in?” he asked innocently.

A laugh bubbled up in her chest and he soon followed with his own deep chuckle.

“There's this place downtown.” He sobered up but was still grinning. “One of my favourites, if you want to check it out.”

“What's in it for me?” Ava raised a playful eyebrow.

His eyes darkened, tongue briefly flickering out. “Good music, good books. We could get dinner after.”

Ava swallowed. “Sounds fantastic.”

Tobias' intense look softened. “It's a date,” he said cheekily.

She laughed again and swatted at his arm. “Lead the way, Romeo, before I change my mind.”

Bantering with him was easier than it should've been. Knowing how laid-back he could be when comfortable made her notice more about how he carried himself around the rest of the team. It gave her a small thrill to be able to witness that side of him.

Tobias drove her to a time-worn shop tucked away between a colourful diner and a boarded-up building. An old sign hung over the entrance reading The Starlight Den. The outer walls were covered in messy chalky drawings and splashes of peeling paint, broken crayons and plastic buckets sitting to one side. He laid a hand on her lower back, gently guiding her through the battered wooden door.

“I used to come here all the time as a kid,” he commented, glancing fondly around the shop.

Neutral colours predominated with the occasional vibrant hue flashing here and there. Bookshelves lined the left side, brimming with works from classics to comic books. Customers could settle down on various armchairs and sofas, reading under the light of several dimmed lamps. Ava slid her eyes from the makeshift coffee bar to the vintage posters on the opposite wall. A soft tune drifted from the gramophone in the corner. Neat stacks of vinyl records were arranged in polished boxes in the centre. A counter held several players for general use nearby.

“This is a dream come true,” Ava marvelled, running her fingertips across the book spines.

Tobias hummed, reaching to pluck a comic from the shelf. He presented it to her with a flourish. Spider-Man was holding a man clad in green on the cover.

“First introduction to Spidey. Also the first comic I ever read,” he disclosed, absently thumbing through the pages.

“I didn't know you read comics.”

Tobias cocked his head. “Haven't read them in a long while but they were a big part of my childhood.”

Ava cast a look about. “I can see why you'd like to come here.”

Two teenagers were hanging around a record player, giggling quietly to each other, while a sharply dressed man made small talk with the handsome man behind the register. The overall atmosphere was quite cosy. It felt a bit like home. When she returned her wandering gaze to Tobias, he offered her a knowing smile.

“I have an idea,” he announced with a quick clap of his hands. “We each pick a book and a record for the other. I have a player back at my apartment.”

Ava crossed her arms. “Is this a ploy to get me into your bed, Carrick?”

He raised his palms up in mock surrender. “Absolutely not. Just a ploy to get a pretty woman eating take-out on my couch.”

“From that diner next door?”

“Rosa makes the best burgers and milkshakes in Boston.” He gave a solemn nod, cracking up in the following beat.

Ava contemplated him. “It's a date.”

He lit up with a boyish smile.

She didn't know much about his likes and dislikes given that all their interactions revolved around their work. Browsing the bookcases, she opted to get him a copy of The Little Prince. She remembered her papa reading it to her when she was sick or when grief was heavier than most days. She picked up A Day at the Raceson her way to the counter.

“Don't peek,” Tobias warned after their purchases were done. “I'm going to get our food and then we can head back.”

“I want nuggets.” Ava blushed when her stomach growled.

He patted her head. “As you wish, m'lady.”

Ava watched him walk away, unable to remember the last time she was this happy. Tobias was so carefree. He didn't allow their work to burden him, always trying to finding the silver lining in each case, and refused to let it interfere with his life outside the hospital. It was a breath of fresh air, compared to her previous relationship with Ethan. Tobias was light where Ethan was dark.

The ride back to his flat was mostly quiet. He tapped on the wheel along with the song playing on the radio—she vaguely recognised it as being a new Ariana Grande single. She, on the other hand, was more occupied with staring out the window and trying to control her nerves. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, making her almost want to throw up. Tobias was undeniably attractive, charming and witty. And they were going to be alone at his place.

Ava choked on air.

He was quick to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, I got you.” At her lack of response, he slid his hand further and began to rub her back, eyes briefly leaving the road to look her over.

“I'm good,” she gasped.

His touch continued to burn her skin until the car was parked in his garage.

Tobias' flat was messier than she expected but not in the dirty sense of the word. It was a sort of organised chaos that breathed life into the walls. The coffee table peeked from beneath a mountain of medical journals, two blankets were thrown haphazardly on the couch with a pillow half-fallen on the carpet, like he had dozed off while reading. The telly was still on as well and she paused to watch Jessica Aniston and Matt LeBlanc acting on the screen.

He steered her towards the kitchen.

“I forgot to clean, sorry.” He seemed unusually sheepish.

“Mine's not much better, believe me,” she reassured him, squeezing his arm. She took the food bags from him and set them on the table. “Kitchen or living room?”

“Living room!” he called out from the pantry, coming out with a package of napkins and a container of assorted candy.

He had stored away the blankets and the pillow by the time she brought the food to the coffee table, journals stashed away in the corner bookcase. Ava noticed that he also changed into a looser tee, his biceps highlighted underneath the artificial lighting. He grabbed their purchases from the shop and turned to her with a bright smile.

“I realised we don't actually know each other that well,” he said, grabbing the book from the bag, “and I would like to remedy that.”

Ava accepted the gift, lips quirking up at the sight of the blue cover. “I've never read The Great Gatsby,” she informed.

His smile widened. “Let me know what you think when you're done, yeah?”

“I got you this one.” God she was nervous. “I, uh—I didn't know what you liked so I figured I'd give you one of my favourites. After my mum died... my dad used to read it to me as a kid.”

Tobias met her gaze and she was surprised to see him so serious. “I—Thank you, Ava. It means a lot that you would share that with me.”

She needed to look away. Was he getting closer?

Her stomach growled again.

“Eat,” he murmured, slowly leaning back. “I'll put the records on.”

He returned to the couch as the beginnings of Dancing Queenfilled the room. Ava beamed.

“How did you know?”

He popped a fry in his mouth. “I may have cheated on this one. Claire told me you were a fan.”

The mention of her friend warmed her heart. “I didn't know you and C were buddies.”

Tobias rubbed the back of his neck. “We're not, not really. I, um, went to ask her how you were after what happened. Anna and Hemgrove were gone already, so...”

His concern sent the butterflies into a frenzy. Ava focused on her burger so he wouldn't see the deep red staining her cheeks.

It was only two episodes into Friends that she noticed the missing fries in her plate. An indignant yelp was muffled by the food in her mouth. Tobias blindly reached for another one but she slapped his hand away, earning her a surprised squawk from the man. Ava made a move for his plate and was stopped when he put his arm between them, lifting the other up so she wouldn't touch his food.

“Oi! That's not fair!” she protested, not realising she was half-sitting on his lap as she tried to get her fries back.

“All's fair when you're hungry, sweetheart,” he retorted, laughing at her worthless attempts.

The loud sound of porcelain breaking was unmistakable. In an effort to get closer, she had pressed against his chest, their bodies practically glued together, and the twist of his wrist weakened his grip on the plate. Ava sunk into him in defeat and promptly peeped as her groin made contact with his.

“Shit, sorry Av—nghh...” He cut off with a strangled moan.

Ava hurried to relieve the pressure of her thigh on his crotch, feeling mortified.

“I'm sorry—” “Wait—” they spoke at the same time, both floundering.

“Just—wait.” Tobias held onto her hips, heaving out a frustrated sigh.

She would never admit to anyone that no, she very much did not want to move.

Except maybe to the girls, who would most definitely grill her tomorrow.

They remained in that exact position for a couple silent moments. Neither sure what to say nor how to act upon the revelation that they were entirely too comfortable physically for two people who were supposed to be just work acquaintances.

Up close, his eyes looked more green than brown. Ava told herself that she had bigger things to worry about.

But it was a pretty colour.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he quietly confessed. “I have to know, though. Is—is there anything between you and Ethan?”

She let out a shaky breath, touching her forehead to his. “Not since last year.”

He gave a short nod, raising a hand to cup her face. “Could there be anything between us?”

“Why don't you kiss me and find out?” she whispered against his lips.

She felt his smile before he did.

#tobias carrick #open heart #choices: stories you play #choices open heart #open heart tobias #choices #fanfiction #f: burgers and fries