#wear a tin hat with pride

[digestionsack]

Okay, so I’m seeing a lot of people with the “are you a converse gay or a vans gay?” And I applaud you. Veddy good. But what if Mike’s converse are foreshadowing? *adjusts tin foil hat*

Will is wearing vans, and vans headquarters are in Cali:

Which makes sense.

But Mike is wearing converse, and This Could Mean Nothing, but converse headquarters are in Boston, MA…

This plus That Interview (Finn Wolfhard implying that Mike’s getting the hells outta Hawkins once the whole show is over) PLUS the fact that MA was the first state to legalize gay marriage in 2004 PLUS Nancy wanting to go to Emerson College in Boston, MA thus establishing a possible future emotional closeness between the Wheeler siblings and an established connection to Boston…gotta say, the math could be mathing here.

Again, This Could Mean Nothing, but I know we’ve played around with the possibility of Byler going to Massachusetts and I just…MASS PRIDE!!

#yay mass pride #byler #byler analysis

[idontlikeem]

I'm going to get my tin hat for a second and say that i think geno started wearing the pride jersey after he got his american citizenship? like i remember him donating the suits but never wearing the jersey until recently. i feel like something changed and that's like the only thing i can think of

That would actually be because the Pens didn’t have special warm-up jerseys for pride night before the shortened Covid season! Unless I really missed something there have only been three opportunities for him to wear a jersey, and he was injured for two of them (and the first one they didn’t even have one made for him, or the other guys that were on LTIR at the time).

[wearethesame77]

[sher-soc-the-famder]

Welp I’m probably going to get some flack for this (i really should be writing asdfsdaf I had a one shot I wanted to do today w h o o p s) but 

I kinda think

Logan’s replaced Virgil as the Antagonist

At least within the main sides, and that means rather than Roman, Logan’s the one with an arc up next, or maybe perhaps they’re going to have a joint arc. Like ok hear me out 

Logan in the past couple of episodes has been rather,,, stubborn. He’s gone from, “I don’t engage with tantrum throwers” to literally arguing with Roman so much that Thomas’s response to it is “This is normal”

And the reason I’m not bringing Roman up into this hugely is because at least with him, in the last couple of episodes, when his mistakes are pointed out and he’s encouraged, he always ends up apologizing and sincerely. Usually before Logan does. Meaning he’s the one willing to take that step forward to work things out, he really just wants Logan’s approval.

"Why did I never question people’s belittling view on what I do?”

An interesting point in this moment is Roman’s reaction to it (a realization for himself) and the way that Logan’s eyes almost seem to drift to Roman.

Logan tries to take a step forward but for me it’s held, just a bit back by, “Not that I was wrong!” the absolutely stunned look on Roman’s face at even a concession by Logan.

THE FACT THAT HE DOESN’T ACTUALLY APOLOGIZE 

He asks what he can do to make it up to Roman but the only “I’m sorry” we get from him is when he throws that card at Roman. 

But to back track a bit.

Logan- “So now you can't insult Virgil anymore, you've moved on to me”

Roman- “Wha--”

Now this, this would be a clever bit of foreshadowing to this whole theory, seeing as it implies that Logan has taken Virgil’s place. Logan’s struggling to listen to the other sides as a whole. He wants them to want him to talk, and he wants them to listen to him. But at the same time he’s getting a litte,,, extreme about it

Much

Like

Anxiety?

It’s hard to listen to someone who only shoots you down after all. Hard to listen to someone who isn’t listening and trying to understand right back.

So until Logan figures out his whole “emotions” problem I think he’s only going to get worse from here. He’s lying to himself (perfect opportunity for Deceit?) and getting more and more desperate to be heard.

To the point where he’s suggesting a whole new career change almost without any regard as to how that would affect the other sides. Roman at the very least would suffer from a “real job,” Virgil points out that a dramatic would be horrible on him, and between those two things I don’t think Patton would have a very good time either.

Thomas himself gets frustrated with Logan in the newest episode and you know what that reminds me of?

“Oh good, it’s my Anxiety”

#Sanders sides #ts spoilers #Logan sanders #Theory #wear a tin hat with pride

[desertdollranch]

Eugenia loves riding the train into Albuquerque, the big city north of the small town of Bosque Farms where she and her mother live in 1934. She dresses in her best dress and hat for the occasion, and brings along her embroidered purse. If the two of them have errands to do in the city and won’t make it back to the station before the last train runs, they stay overnight at the Bottger Inn, located in downtown Albuquerque. Eugenia’s favorite part of staying there is having breakfast in the elegant dining room with its beautifully patterned tin ceiling!

You can see the historic inn behind Eugenia in the first picture. This mansion was built in 1912, the same year that New Mexico transitioned from being a territory to the 47th state in the U.S. At the time, the house was called the “Pride of Old Town” because of its beautiful contemporary architecture and its modern gas-powered lights. Today the Bottger Mansion is still welcoming visitors, and operates as a bed and breakfast. It blends in well with the other adobe buildings nearby, as you can see in the last picture. Albuquerque itself is more than 300 years old, and a few of the buildings date back to the city’s founding.   

Eugenia is my historical character from 1934. I made her wool dress with the Bodice Details pattern. The fabric came from an old skirt I found at a thrift store. She’s also wearing a fashionable felt hat called a cloche (say it like “close” but with a sh at the end), the French word for “bell”, because of its distinctive bell shape. The pattern for that came from the Downtown 1920′s pattern. You can see her pretty purse and the compass necklace that she’s wearing in the first and second photos. I’ll talk more about those, and what she’s carrying in her purse, in a later post!

#eugenia holland #historicaloc #1934 #truly me 57

[honey-dewey]

Loud and Proud

Pairing: Trans Masc! Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Benny Miller/GN! Reader

Word Count: 1,536

Warnings: None aside from the usual swearing! This is 100% pure fluff

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell​

Welcome to week one of pride month! For this entire month, I will be participating in @flightlessangelwings and @autumnleaves1991-blog​ Pride writing prompts! I’m super excited to do these prompts, and can’t wait to see what I come up with. 

Prompts: Pride/“Kiss me again, like you mean it.”

“Wake up!” 

You groaned, rolling over in bed and shielding your eyes from the sunlight that threatened to blind you completely. To your left, Frankie mirrored the action, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Jesus fuck,” he mumbled, sleepily fumbling for his glasses. “Benny, for fucks sake.” 

Benny grinned widely, bouncing up and down at the end of the bed. “C’mon!” He said eagerly. “Wake up sleepyheads! It’s parade day!” 

Frankie sighed, smiling crookedly and pulling Benny close. “Take a chill pill,” he said, kissing the top of Benny’s head as Benny wiggled in his grip. “Let us wake up, please.” 

You snuggled up towards Benny, making kissy noises until he indulged you. When he finally pulled away, you fell back against the bed, smiling. “Benny, what’s for breakfast?” 

“I made pancakes, why?” 

“They’re burning.” 

Benny shot upright, scrambling out of Frankie’s arms and racing to the kitchen, chanting “Shit, shit, shit,” as he ran. 

You and Frankie took some time getting ready. It took some shuffling, but finally you were both dressed in your pyjamas and decent enough to trudge to breakfast. 

“I saved it!” Benny said happily, showing off a plate of golden pancakes. “The burnt one went to Rufus.” 

“Benny.” You sat at the table, letting him kiss your forehead as he put a mug in front of you. “That poor dog is fat enough as it is. And you know Mr. G hates it when you feed him scraps.” 

Frankie snorted into his coffee as Benny gasped. “I did ask before I fed Rufus this time!” He said defensively, handing Frankie the pancake plate. 

Breakfast was, as always, a lazy affair. Both of your boys ate four pancakes each, and you watched, mildly impressed and disgusted at the same time. An alarm went off in the background, and Frankie stood, stretching slowly as he grabbed a tin on the counter that was labeled ‘Fish’s anti-baby candy.’ The container had been Benny’s idea. 

While Frankie took his birth control pill, you and Benny planned for the day ahead. 

“I’m bringing extra water,” you said, watching Benny eat yet another pancake. “You’re on snacks?”

“I am on snacks!” Benny said happily. “We’re taking Frankie’s truck, and-“ 

“I’m sorry?” Frankie looked up from where he was swallowing his pill. “Frankie did not know we were taking Frankie’s truck!” 

You laughed. “News flash,” you said, doing jazz hands in Frankie’s general direction. “We’re totally taking your truck.” 

Benny grinned, tossing a wadded up napkin at Frankie. “You know you don’t mind,” he said. “That bench seat means we all have to smoosh, and you love being smooshed with us.” 

“No comment,” Frankie said, hiding his grin behind his mug. 

Half an hour later, you were sitting on the kitchen counter, adjusting various makeup items. Benny and Frankie were both in the shower, but the water had been turned off, so you assumed they were almost done. Benny came bounding out, wearing a pair of jean shorts and a rainbow tie-dye crop top hoodie. You laughed as he stood closely in front of you, bouncing from foot to foot. You’d promised to do his makeup, and he was very eager for it. 

While you were holding Benny’s face and doing his eyeliner, Frankie trailed out of the bathroom. He was wearing overalls and no shirt, showing off his surgery scars. You gestured him closer, and he leaned against the counter, watching you as you concentrated. 

“God you are amazing,” Frankie murmured, smiling at you. “I love you.” 

“What about me?” Benny asked, peeking one eye open. 

Frankie laughed. “I love you too, you dork,” he said, kissing Benny’s cheek. 

Benny gasped, grabbing the straps of Frankie’s overalls. “Oh hell no!” He said. “Kiss me again, like you mean it!” 

Frankie smashed his face into Benny’s while you packed up your makeup. “Benjamin, if you ruin your makeup, I might kill you.” 

Benny laughed, pulling away from Frankie for a very brief moment so he could stick his tongue out at you before he crashed into Frankie again, forcing Frankie to dip back, gripping Benny’s arms. 

“Boys,” you said, hopping off the counter. “Firstly, if we don’t leave now, we’ll be late. Second of all, I want kisses.” 

The boys broke apart, both kissing your cheeks. You laughed, putting your arms around them and pulling them towards the truck. Frankie, who was the only one able to drive a stick shift, sat in the driver’s seat. You shuffled between the two boys, squished between Benny and Frankie. There was decidedly nowhere you’d rather be. 

The parade was already in full swing when Frankie parked. The street that had been roped off was full of people, all dressed to impress in rainbows and glitter. A hundred different flags hung in the air, lining the buildings in color. You smiled as you stepped out of the truck, watching Benny run off immediately. This would be your first pride as partners, and he was already doing his own thing. 

“He’s just going to find some funnel cake,” Frankie reassured, putting an arm around your shoulders. “C’mon, let’s go find him before he ruins something.” 

Benny was, as expected, ordering funnel cake when you found him. After a bit of pestering, he shared with you and Frankie. 

“Ten minutes,” Frankie said, checking his watch. “Wanna find a place to sit?” 

You and Benny exchanged a look. “We’re already on it,” you reassured, taking Frankie’s hand and pulling him back towards the truck. 

As soon as the old truck was in sight, Benny ran to it, climbing into the bed and sitting on top of the truck, his feet dangling on the windshield. 

“Guys!” Frankie said, watching you follow Benny. “This truck’s too old for this!” Despite his complaints, he climbed up behind you, settling between you and Benny. You smiled, leaning on his shoulder as he pulled Benny closer so he wouldn’t slide off the roof of the truck. 

The parade was, as it was every year, a lively affair. By the time it had ended, you had been tossed a variety of necklaces and pins, all of which had been distributed amongst the three of you. You laughed as Frankie got a beaded necklace stuck on his hat, his attempts to pull it over the brim only getting it more stuck. 

“Babe,” you said, taking his hat off. “Let me.” 

While you had his hat, Frankie was able to don a rainbow lei that Benny commented matched wonderfully with his shirtless-ness. 

“Shh,” you said, putting Frankie’s hat snuggly on his head again. “Don’t tell him he’s handsome. He already knows he’s the pretty one.” 

Frankie snorted, nearly choking on his water. 

Once the parade was over, you slid off the truck, leaving Frankie and Benny behind as you searched for something specific. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched them wander off, likely to entertain themselves until you returned. 

You found the vendor easily. Prior research had reassured you he’d be there, and you eagerly approached the small tent that was selling jewelry. You bought three rings, all identical, that were decorated with a line of gems that formed a rainbow and writing that said ‘Loud and Proud’ on the inside. 

It took some doing to find the boys again, but you found them talking to a few drag queens, one of whom was wrapping Frankie in a pansexual flag. 

“Fish, Benny!” You said, jogging up. “There you are.” 

Frankie smiled, pulling you close. “Where’d you run off to?” 

“I’ll tell you later,” you promised, the rings growing heavy in your pocket. 

You three were still out when the sun set, and finally, after dinner and more conversation, you headed home. 

As soon as he walked through the front door, Benny pulled his hoodie off and fell onto the couch, groaning into the cushion. 

“Did you have fun?” You asked, sitting beside Benny’s head. 

“Yeah,” Benny said, still face down. 

Frankie chuckled, scooping Benny up and sitting down, putting Benny in his lap. Benny stretched out again, laying his head in your lap. “Love you both.” 

“Love you too Benny,” Frankie said quietly, taking his hat off and laying it on the coffee table. 

It was a few minutes before you remembered the rings still in your pocket. Sitting up from your relaxed position, you rummaged through your pocket, finding the rings. 

“You good?” Benny asked, opening his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I got you guys something, so we could remember our first pride together.” 

Frankie sat up, watching you. “Is that why you left us after the parade?” 

You nodded. “Yeah.” You found the ring in Frankie’s size and took his right hand. You slid the ring on his ring finger, copying the action for Benny’s hand. 

Both boys examined their rings. Frankie moved first, pulling you close. Benny followed, surrounding you on both sides by affectionate boyfriend. 

“Thank you!” Benny said, kissing your cheek. “They’re perfect!” 

Frankie smiled, resting his cheek on your head. “Perfect,” he agreed. 

You put your arms around the boys, hugging them close. “I love you boys,” you said softly. “Thank you for today. Not to borrow Frankie’s word, but it was perfect.”

#Triple Frontier #Francisco 'Catfish' Morales #Benjamin 'Benny' Miller #Frankie Morales #Benny Miller #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #frankie morales x benny miller #frankie morales x benny miller x reader #Pedro Pascal #garrett hedlund #My writing #writer wednesday #jey's pride celebration 2k21

[amydancepants-peralta]

(maybe this time) I’ve hit a home run ⚾️♥️

(a one-shot inspired by @jamy-peraltiago‘s fandom challenge prompts, written in a flash of inspiration!) (x) 

*

“Okay, so run me through this one more time.”

Squinting against the sun; Jake turns towards his girlfriend of nine months, a frisson of joy running through him as he realises how seriously she’s taking the task in front of her.  “Fry first, then gummy worm.”  He demonstrates with a grin.  “Another fry, then dip the whole thing into the sundae, and enjoy.”

Amy shoots him a dubious look, following the instructions carefully and trying her very best not to cringe as she shoves the unnaturally colourful combination into her mouth.  From his position closely beside her, Jake grins, and vaguely he hears the commentator’s voice crackle through the speakers around them. 

Today he and Amy are attending a Mets v Phillies game at Citi Field - Amy’s first live baseball game ever - and once they’d made it to their seats, Jake had been eager to show her the combination of snacks that he has long since considered tradition.  “Amazing, right?”

Licking her lips, Amy reaches out to rest a hand on his leg, squeezing gently.  “Two things,” she begins, and Jake nods.  “First, I love you.  And second, please don’t ever make me eat that again.”

Incredulous, Jake lifts up the Peralta Combo in veneration.  “French fries, sour worms and ice-cream?  That’s the perfect combination of salty and sour and sweet, Ames!  It’s a culinary delight.  How can you not love it?”

Shaking her head, Amy takes a sip of beer to wash the taste away, and Jake leans in to kiss the remnants of froth from her upper lip.  “There is SO much sugar in that, babe.  If you ate a whole tray of that, I’m certain you would be able to hear colour and smell sound.”

“And who wouldn’t want that?!”  Tilting his head to the side, he grins.  “You know, I bet magenta has a real screech to it.”

“Definitely a high vibrato of some sort,” Amy nods, and he bends down for another kiss.  “But probably not something we’re ever meant to hear, you know?”  She winces, adjusting the tip of her baseball cap and craning her neck upwards.  “I’m sorry, babe.  I know it’s your favourite snack, but I don’t think I could stomach more of that.”

“Ames, it’s totally fine.  More for me, anyways.”  Giving a reassuring smile, he lowers his treats to the empty seat beside him and wraps his free arm around Amy’s shoulders.  “And I love you too, by the way.”

(It’s still a little exciting, finally being able to vocalise those three little words, and the way they both returned the sentiment so eagerly makes it all the better, every single time - rolling eyes from surrounding audiences be damned.)

The Phillies fans in the stadium cheer as Eickhoff's swing hits the ball with a heavy crack, and as Amy leans forward to watch the action Jake sneaks a peek at her expression, desperately curious to see if she was enjoying the game or not.  He’d been oddly anxious about today; worried that she wouldn’t feel the same thrum of anticipation amongst the crowd, or - even worse - that she’d find the whole thing ridiculous.  Baseball was something that had been a part of his life since he was old enough to remember, and while he wanted to share it with Amy, the fear of her not enjoying the game was stronger than he’d anticipated.  

But then he’d been waiting at his apartment earlier today, nervous as all hell, when she’d shown up in a newly purchased Mets jersey and sneakers that matched his own.  Stood in his kitchen with a proud smile, spouting out stats on some of his favourite players as he’d finished getting ready (all of which had clearly been recently researched); and he knows that this probably sounds ridiculously schmaltzy, but he swears he fell even more in love with her right there and then.  

Eickhoff stops his run at second base, eyeing off the Mets’ shortstop Cabrera as he lobs the ball back to the pitcher, and Amy joins in on the applause that litters the crowd.  “Shortstop - that’s what you used to play, right?” 

Jake nods, his eyes suddenly trained on a moment a few rows forward; watching as a young boy no older than six shares a joke with his father, meeting his offered high five with obvious glee.  “When I was in little league, yeah,” he mumbles as the nostalgia washes over him.  

There was a time when that would have been him; wearing his team jersey with pride as he ate too many hotdogs, laughing with Roger, riding high on his shoulders as they waded through the crowd on their way home.  When they were watching baseball, there weren’t screaming matches filtering through closed doors, or strange lingerie stuffed in-between carseats for him to ignore on the way to school.  At the stadium, it was just Jake and his Dad - a place where, for nine blissful innings, the rest of the world seemed to simply fade away.  

It had been mid-season and a month after Jake’s seventh birthday when Roger had walked away from it all, and now - much like the tin of baseball cards that Jake had stashed far to the back of a cupboard - the value of his memories are only sentimental (but priceless all the same).

Amy’s knee nudges against his thigh, and Jake’s met with a pair of beautifully gentle eyes when he turns towards her.  Her voice is soft as she asks him if he’s okay, and he adjusts the back of his own cap, running a hand along the base of his neck.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Just … thinking.”

She nods, twisting in her seat and resting her elbow along the back of his.  “Did you keep playing after Roger left?”

Nodding, Jake leans back into his seat, fiddling with his hat again as the memory of sitting at Sal’s Pizza for hours after the game, just in case Roger might swing by, surfaces from the corner of his mind.  “Just for the rest of the season.  I guess for a while there, I had sorta convinced myself that he would be coming back any day now.  My plan was to just keep doing everything I normally did, so that when he did come back, it would almost feel like he’d never left.”  Amy’s hand falls onto the nape of his neck, sweeping slowly in soothing strokes, and he sighs, relaxing into her touch.  “But as the months went by, and the phone calls grew fewer, the idea of putting the uniform on again just seemed … I don’t know … wrong.”

Letting out a tiny hum of assent, Amy’s fingers card into the bottom of Jake’s hair.  “You still like watching the game, though?”

He nods again, a smile growing onto his face as he explained his mother’s insistence on taking him to games after Roger left.  “She’d never quite gotten a grip on the right terminology, and always cheered for both teams regardless of who was playing; but her enthusiasm was definitely contagious.”  It had worked incredibly well at reigniting the love Jake once had for the game, and over the years he’d branched out and watched matches with college buddies and friends from the academy alike.  

It was unexpected - but also so completely typical of dating someone like Amy - for today to be the day when all of his childhood memories came out in force.  “Sorry, babe.  I’m really dragging the vibe down here.  Maybe we should - mmmh - ” Jake’s last few words die in his mouth as his girlfriend presses her lips against his, the palm of her hand resting against his cheek in a kiss that he only knows as being quintessentially Amy.  

She smiles when they part, brushing away a stray lock of hair from his fringe.  “You don’t ever need to apologise for talking about your past, Jake.  I want to hear all of it, regardless of where we are.  If it matters to you, it matters to me.”

Mumbling another I love you, Jake draws Amy in for a longer kiss, hand wrapping around her waist and pulling away only when the crowd cheers at Herrera’s fly ball.  It was pretty amazing, how talking about memories with Amy rarely felt painful, and on days like today he has the strongest instinct that it’s largely because with her, he can already see his future taking shape.  

Leaning her body into his, Amy’s arm comes to rest comfortably on top of his upper thigh as she turns her attention back to the game in front of them, and softly she murmurs, “This is way better than watching the game in Manny’s living room.”

The sun feels warm against Jake’s skin as he links their fingers together, planting a kiss to the top of her baseball cap in silent agreement.  It was a beautiful day in a lot of ways - the Met’s current lead of 2-0 a fine example - and getting to spend it with Amy made it all the better.  

It’s at the bottom of the third inning that Amy twists away from Jake, rustling through her backpack before returning to her previous position and holding up a bag of nuts with unconstrained pride.  “I thought we might get snacky.”

“You really are the perfect woman.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls you bring here.”

Wrapping his hand around Amy’s wrist, Jake squeezes gently.  “Apart from my mom, and occasionally Gina, you’re the only girl I’ve brought here, Ames.”  It’s a small distinction, but one he feels is important to make, and the soft smile that Amy gives him in return reaffirms his instinct.  

She kisses his cheek, brushing her lips against his skin as she moves to whisper in his ear.  “Keep talking like that Peralta, and you’re going to see some solid third base action tonight.”  Another kiss, this time to the base of his earlobe.  “Maybe even a home run, once you see what I’ve got on underneath this jersey.”

(It’s an entirely new experience, trying to avoid getting an erection in a stadium while your girlfriend chuckles softly beside you - but one that Jake doesn’t totally hate, if only for the knowledge that the wait is going to be completely worth it.)

He’s fully reclined into his seat, one arm wrapped around Amy’s shoulders when the Kiss Cam pans onto them at the top of the fifth inning, breaking into laughter as he watches Amy’s face quickly turn a delightful shade of pink.  He’s still considering a humble peck to her cheek when she swivels in her seat, coiling her hand around his waist and pulling him in for an almost non-PG13 kiss before another moment can be wasted, and as the crowd cheers and Sixpence None The Richer plays in the background, Jake knows that he is totally, utterly and madly in love with the one and only Amy Santiago.    

There’s an oversized foam finger occupying Jake’s right hand, and his girlfriend’s fingers twisted around his left as they leave the field hours later, riding the high of another Met’s victory as they shuffle towards the exit.  He listens contentedly as Amy chatters excitably about the potential for statistical analysis of the game - something about sabermetrics that only makes him think of Star Wars - and it’s as they head towards the carpark that Jake finds himself completely distracted once more.

He watches as a family in front of them move along the footpath, both parents holding onto one hand each of their child as they swing from their parent’s arms, the overjoyed giggles filtering through the noise of a departing crowd as they bounce on and off the pavement.  

It’s the feeling of Amy’s hand in his, and the still unspoken assurance that both of them are in this for the long haul that allows Jake’s mind to wonder of the possibility of such a moment ever belonging to him.  He can almost see it: a chuckling toddler bounding between his and Amy’s arms, wearing their favourite jersey and singing the team song as they head home, just in time for bath and bed and some well-deserved Mommy and Daddy time (aka, falling asleep on the couch).  It’s a future so simplistic, but for the longest time seemed unthinkable, and Jake breaks out into a wide grin at the sheer notion that something so great as a lifetime with Amy could ever be more than just an unrequited dream.  

Amy’s hand squeezes his as they draw nearer to her car, her face growing curious as she looks up at Jake.  “What’s got you so smiley all of the sudden, Peralta?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Jake hunches slightly to drop a quick kiss to Amy’s lips.  “I’ve just spent an afternoon in the sunshine with a beautiful woman beside me, watching my favourite team win.  There’s a lot of reasons to smile right there, babe.”

Resting her weight against her passenger door, Amy rests her hands on either side of Jake’s waist and looks up at him with an equally happy grin.  “Thank you for taking me here, Jake.  I loved every second of it.”  Lowering her grip slightly, she digs her fingers into his side in a request for closeness; and Jake bridges the gap for another kiss, letting both of them sink into it as the lack of surrounding strangers lends to a sense of privacy.  

The subtle scent of her perfume lingers over his senses as Jake pulls away, held closely still by Amy’s curled fingers around his belt loops, and he leans his forehead against hers.  “What was that you were saying earlier about hitting some bases tonight?”

He chuckles as she pushes him away with a gentle shove, giving him the Santiago wink (also known as a slow blink).  “How about we head back to my place and I show you what I mean, detective?”

The car fills up with laughter and the easy conversations of two best friends in love as Amy navigates them through the streets of Brooklyn - and as they head closer to home, Jake already knows that whatever the future may hold, with Amy by his side, they were going to knock it right out of the park.  

#peraltiago baseball game cuteness #b99 fic #peraltiago fanfiction #distracting me from the fic I was nearly finished writing? it's more likely than you think #jake x amy fic #my writing

[pulltothelight]

2020 Reylo Fanfic Recap

With just a couple days left of 2020, I wanted to go back and appreciate all the Reylo fic I’ve written this year. Totaling 24 Reylo Centered Fics.

Like His Father’s Dice: *Puts on Tin Foil Hat* Here’s how Ben Solo can still be alive. Remembering how Han Solo’s dice disappeared in his hand gives Ben the key to surviving the battle on Exegol. G, 1,057 words, Complete.

He Gotta Go Check On Her: a sequel to Rey Has a Cold, where Ben crosses the Galaxy to take care of a sick Rey. G, 2,848 words, Complete.

I Licked It, It’s Mine: Senator Benjamin Organa-Solo is prim and proper and polite. Rey, the scavenger his father picked up on Jakku, is everything but. G, 1,884 words, Complete.

Yes I’m Wearing Your Shirt: You’ve Been Mostly Dead: Ben Solo was only mostly dead, and over the past several months since Exegol, his life Force has been recuperating in the Force. Rey is where we last saw her on Tatooine, working through her grief. G, 1,045 words, Complete.

Rey Crashes a Speeder: Rey and Ben are living a happily married life with peace in the Galaxy. That doesn’t mean that accidents don’t happen. G, 1,065 words, Complete.

Abilities Deemed Unnatural:  Post TROS AU where Ben could not save Rey on Exegol. He's left to pick up the pieces. T, 6,341 words, 5/? chapters, WIP.

Broken Hearts and Healing Hands: A 1 shot that turned into a multi-chapter fic, and then post TROS, it got an epilogue. Rey and Ben fix the Legacy Lightsaber. T, 16,049 words, 16 chapters, Complete.

Dismantled: The Supreme Leader learns that the Force does what the Force wants. He decides he will do his best for the Galaxy, and for the little life the Force placed inside him. Mpreg. T, 13,233 words, 6/7 chapters, WIP.

Putting Down Roots: part 3 of my Scenes From a Sweeter Space series,  Set after the events of Playing in the Snow, Ben and Rey find themselves caring for more than just the plants in their greenhouse. G, 1,590 words, Complete.

The Son & Heir of a Shyness: A modern high school AU, where Rey is the new student, and Ben is horribly shy. G, 2,344 words, Complete.

Down From the Tower: A Rapunzel/Tangled AU where Ben is the one with the gorgeous hair and Rey is our scrappy scavenger thief. G, 5,200 words, 1/3 chapters, WIP.

The Memory That Matters:  The last thing Ben remembers is the fight in Snoke's Throne Room aboard the Supremacy. When he wakes up in a med center, he learns that a lot has happened since his last memory. Canon Divergent from TLJ. G, 2,829 words, Complete.

We Don’t Match:  Ben is on an overnight road trip when he stops at a podunk diner in the middle of nowhere, and the light on his soulmate indicator lights up when the waitress brushes his hand. Unfortunately, she's not wearing an indicator herself. G, 7,995 words, Complete. 

Saving What We Love: When the Supremacy and the Legacy Saber were shattered down the middle, Rey dragged an unconscious Ben back with her. Unfortunately, he wakes up in a cell. G, 747 words, Complete.

Padawans of Ren: Luke refused to teach Rey on Ach-to, and so she returned to D'qar to the Resistance, which was still hidden from the First Order, until Kylo Ren shows up with three new faces. G, 1,167 words, Complete.

Entangled Stars:  Dance Stars: Galaxy was the hottest televised dance competition, and the this week's paired dances draw out the most compelling dynamics. G, 889 words, Complete. 

Always a Woman to Me: Finn is missing Rey, where ever she is in the Galaxy, but his emotions pull another someone who is missing Rey to him through the Force. G, 705 words, Complete.

Palpatine is a Liar: A detour to confirm Rey's lineage leads to Palpatine's defeat and Ben's redemption. G, 2,093 words, Complete.

Written in My Hand: Diverging at The Force Awakens, Ben and Rey are soulmates. They know they are because they have the other’s name written on their arms in their handwriting. Knowing that they are soulmates from the very beginning changes everything. G, 9,884 words, 6/? words, WIP.

The Fire of the Sith: Ben and Rey send their adopted children up to summer camp, the same one that they perform at every Fourth of July. Little do they know, Ben's camping years have sprouted up the Knights of Ren, a group of campers who may very well burn the whole camp down. Part 4 of the Scenes From a Sweeter Space Series. G, 6,660 words, Complete. 

Two That Are One: Ben Solo was the avatar, everyone knew it. Except, he couldn't bend all 4 elements. G, 1,637 words, 1/? chapters, WIP.

Celebrating Rey’s Birthday: Ben knew Rey's Birthday, and he made sure to celebrate her, even though she had never celebrated it herself. G, 939 words, Complete.

Chosen: As teenagers just presenting as an alpha and an omega, Ben and Rose promised that if they turned 30 without being mated to someone else, they'd marry each other. It's fine and dandy until Rey, an unmated omega, sets off Ben's rut. T, 10,323 words, 2/4 chapters, WIP.

The Wings We Stole: Before this Earth, before this life, Rey and Ben promised to find each other. They only agreed to do come to earth so they could spend eternity together. They don't think of themselves as angels or saints. They can't make it through this on their own. A Mormon Flavored Modern AU. G, 11,329 words, 8/? chapters, WIP.

BONUS

A Meta: Today on I fricking Love Ben Solo: A meta concerning the fall of Ben Solo. G, 537 words, Complete. 

A GingerRose Fic: The Rose of The Titanic: Armitage Hux had helped design the massive ship, Titanic, and upon touring his pride and joy before the maiden voyage, he runs into the prized mechanic down in the belly of the ship. A GingerRose Titanic AU. G, 3,153 words, 2/4 chapters, WIP.

#fanfic recap #reylo fanfic recap #reylo fanfic #Reylo Fic

[weilongfu]

Could I request a “We’re both runway models and the pants you’re wearing fit your ass perfectly.” with TinCan?

Whatever the perceptions of his attitude were, Tin prided himself on being an absolute professional. He was always cordial with staff, makeup artists, and designers. He could politely disregard his fellow models unless required. And for the right price, Tin could even be asked to get close to one for a photo.

None of this could explain why Tin was finding himself the target of a particularly potent stare. Especially from another model.

Tin sipped his coffee and observed his “admirer” through his mirror. Short, tan, not your usual runway model look, more childish and cute than sharp and handsome. But Tin mentally tipped his hat to his admirer, he could cut a decent figure in couture. 

Tin stood up and felt the eyes on him track up and down. Ah.

Taking a wide circle around the dressing room, Tin passed his admirer. Again his eyes tracked up and down before lingering. 

“Do we have a problem?” Tin said just as he was about to step away.

“Huh?” The other model stood up. “Who said I have a problem?!”

Tin tilted his head. “You keep staring. You either want something or you want to start a fight.”

“Well I-” The other model bit his lip and pouted. “Your pants.”

“What about them?”

A pink tinge spread across the other model’s cheeks. “...they fit really nice... Like really nice.” The pink color darkened. “Especially around your ass...”

Tin blinked. “Are... you complementing me?”

The other model scrubbed at his hair, messing up all the styling. “Am I not supposed to?”

Tin sighed. “You’re new, aren’t you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not a good model! You’ll see!”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“Oh.” The model blinked. “Can I have your number?”

Five minutes later Tin walked away, a new number saved under “Can Kirakorn Sudacool” on his phone. And it was already blowing up with overly enthusiastic texts.

#love by chance #tincan #lbc #prompt spam weekend #Anonymous

[cowperviolet]

A Fantasy Writer’s Guide to Entremets

Ok - I know that fantasy worlds don’t have to be medieval-influenced. However, most do tend to have historical elements from different eras worked into them; so why not entremets, especially since they have their origins in the feasts of antiquity, and have been deployed through the Middle Ages and Renaissance both? 

If anything, they fit the Rule of Cool. 

So, what are the entremets? To put it very simply, they are the elements of the feast that do not, strictly speaking, belong on the menu. They can be statues, performances, automata (I guess I should put steampunk in the tags), tableaux, even edible-stuff-that’s-just-really freaky. 

Here are some examples (most are drawn from the Burgundian court, because it was the most Extra one):

(Technically) edible stuff:

A lamprey burrowed into a river bottom - that is, a lamprey meat is roasted, then covered in a thick sauce made from combining its blood with spices and vinegar to create the effect of mud.

Cigne revestu - a cooked swan redressed in its skin and feathers.

Doreures - poultry is stuffed with a mixture of pork, bacon, eggs, spices, pine-nut paste, and currants, then roasted; the leftover stuffing is made into balls and roasted as well. Then everything is covered in gold and silver leaf. Because they can. 

Coqz heaumez - a stuffed roasted hen is seated atop a piglet and given a helmet of glued paper and a lance. These should be covered with gold- or silver-leaf for lords, or with white, red, or green tin-leaf, depending on the hen’s station in life, I guess.

Statuary:

The portrayal of the story of the Swan Knight - a wooden box with wheels is constructed; water-filled lead coffer holding a minever-covered parchment boat and a swan sculpture tied together with a golden chain are placed within.A cloth painted to represent water is then attached to hide men who are going to move the box around underneath. 

The Cleveland fountain - an octagonal Gothic tower in three tiers of gilt-silver. Liquid (can be perfumed/rosewater) rises through the central tube and issues from the mouths of the four animals at the top. Then it cascades down each level through spouts in the forms of human and animal faces. The water jets turn a series of wheels attached to bells, making everything whirl and ring.

Something I am going to leave as a direct quote, because I can’t even - ‘At a special table there was a high pillar, on which was seated an ymage of a young woman, nude except for her long blonde hair which covered her back to her waist; on her head was a rich hat; [she was] wrapped, so as to preserve propriety, in a cloth like a fluttering veil with Greek letters on it in many places, beautifully written in violet; and this ymage jetted hippocras from her breasts the entire duration of the supper. And near her, braced against the dresser, was another pillar, not as tall, but a little thicker, like a platform, on which was attached, by an iron chain, a very beautiful and entirely alive lion, as a sign to guard and defend the ymage; against his pillar was written on a charge in gold: Do not touch my lady’. 

A (thank God) fake fire-breathing lion - the sculpture’s mouth is lined with brass-lined mouth, with paper teeth glued within. Camphor and a little cotton are put there, and lit just before it’s presented to the guests.

A ship - such as a miniature anchored carrack laden with various merchandise, with miniature figures of sailors to complete the picture.

Spice-carrying miniature figures of animals -  these could be large elephants carrying castles, dromedaries with large baskets, unicorns, stags, etc. The animals would be bedecked with gold, silver and azure, their coverings decorated with gold thread and silk. Each of them carried the arms of a lord subject to, in one particular case, the Duke of Burgundy, with the name of the town or lordship. But really, any overlord fits. 

Tableaux/mini-plays:

These are highly specific things, tailored to each occasion - whether, political, pious, marital or simply entertaining - so I’m going to describe particular instances that can be, however, easily dismembered into elements:

The entremet of the Holy Church was something presented by Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy at his Feast of the Pheasant in 1454. It began with an armed giant in a long green silk robe with the turban on his head entering the room leading an elephant covered in silk. On the elephant’s back rode a lady wearing a white satin robe with a black coat and headdress (i.e. looking nun-like, but not quite). Addressing the noble company, the lady revealed that she was the Holy Church. As one does, she delivered a long complaint poem to those present, detailing her fallen state after the Turkish capture of Constantinople, and then asked for their aid. In the Ye Olde Photo Op, the Duke drew out a letter promising to aid his fellow Christians and had his herald read it aloud to the assembled guests. Having heard this assurance of aid, the Holy Church blessed him and was led out on her elephant. The evening culminated in the nobles offering immediate written vows to sign up for a crusade. 

The wedding of Charles the Bold and Margaret of York involved a series of carefully staged entremets chock-full of symbolism, given the touchy political nature of their union:

First, a man dressed as leopard came into the room riding a ‘unicorn’ caparisoned in a cloth painted with the English royal arms. The leopard held an English banner in one paw and a daisy in the other. Charles’ maître d’hôtel took the flower and presented it to the groom, saying: “Most excellent, high and victorious prince, my awesome and sovereign lord, the proud and awesome leopard of England comes to visit the noble company; and for your consolation and the consolation of your allies, countries and subjects, makes you the present of a noble marguerite.”

The second entremet was, in turn, dedicated to Margaret. A giant ‘lion’ entered, his covering painted with the arms of Burgundy.  Madame de Beaugrand, the dwarf of Margaret’s new stepdaughter Mary of Burgundy, rode upon it, accompanied by two noblemen. Madame de Beaugrand was dressed in a cloth-of-gold and violet version of a shepherdess’s garb and held a basket painted with the names of various virtues, a Burgundian banner, and a small dog on a leash. Then the ‘lion’ circled the room and sang a song welcoming the “beautiful shepherdess” who is “the source of hope, solace, strength, pride, peace, and safety for all the ruled lands.”

As a last note, possibly just to highlight the lavish and cosmopolitan nature of the court into which she has married, a highly realistic simulated camel saddled “in the Saracen manner” entered the room, with a man dressed in an Eastern fashion and two giant baskets on its back. He opened the baskets and took from them “birds strangely painted, as though they came from India,” and released them to fly around the room. They landed on various tables to the sounds of trumpets.

‘A marvellously large and beautiful stag entered the room, all white with large golden antlers, and covered in a rich covering of green and vermilion silk, as far as I could tell. A young boy twelve years old was mounted on the stag, dressed in a short robe of crimson velvet, wearing a little black slashed hat on his head, and shod in fine shoes. This child held on to the antlers of the stag with both hands. As he entered the room, he began on a song in a very high and clear voice, and the stag seemed to sing the tenor part, without there appearing to be any other person about save the child and artifice of the stag, and the song they sang was called ‘Je ne voy onques la pareille etc.’ [I have never seen her like].’ (Olivier de la Marche’s memoires, 1562). 

‘A watchman on the tower made as if to carry out his watch, and recognising that the tents and pavilions represented towns that were friendly, called for a fanfare of trumpets, which was performed by four boars from the windows in the tower. Then four lifelike goats appeared at the same windows, playing a motet on sackbuts and shawms; followed by four wolves with flutes, then four donkeys singing a song in four parts. For the fifth and last entremets, the watchman asked for a ‘morisque’ dance to entertain the company. Seven lifelike monkeys emerged along a balcony rail from a door in the tower. They found a mercer asleep by his wares and proceeded to play with them. They danced a morisque; then the tables were cleared and the guests danced’. (Ibid.)

#writing reference #writing ref #fantasy #medieval history #medieval #middle ages #writing resources #writeblr #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #history #history tumblr #northernlightswriteblrs

[themurphyzone]

104 Words for 104 Days: Lemonade

It’s Candace appreciation hours! I wanted to do a Candace and Vanessa conversation because of CATU. 

Jeremy looked so cute in his Slushy Dawg uniform. Well, he looked cute in any outfit, but the Slushy Dawg hat just added an extra layer of adorableness. Candace snapped a photo on her phone while Jeremy took a customer’s order, ducking behind the wall against her table before he could look up.

“Total keeper,” Candace giggled, unable to stop the high-pitched squeal that made people stop and stare like they’d never seen a teenage girl in love before. “The sunlight bounces off his hair perfectly in this one.”

She raised her phone again as Jeremy bagged several hot dogs, all wrapped neatly in tin foil. No wonder every Slushy Dawg manager in Danville and Mt. Rushmore fought over him. He was the best guy for the job with that award-winning smile.

“Hey, Candace. What’s up?”

Candace shrieked, slapping her hand against her mouth and almost losing her grip on her precious phone. She whirled around, her knee banging painfully on the table rim. Luckily for her, Jeremy was too busy to notice.  

Vanessa was holding two medium-sized cups of lemonade, a purse and small wallet tucked in an awkward position under her arm. Despite that, Vanessa just radiated casualness.

Caught by the coolest and most mature girl she’d ever known. Candace mentally apologized to Stacy, wondering if she was breaking some BFF-practically sisters code for even thinking that way.

Candace leaned against the table, propping her head up with her elbow. “Yo, Vanessa. ‘Sup with you?”

She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. Maybe that was too casual.  

“My dad’s scheme involves chicken and waffles, so I got out of there before he could make the entire place smell like poultry,” Vanessa said, thankfully not commenting on Candace’s failed attempt at casualness and making things more awkward. “Mind if I join you for a while? I’ve got time to kill and a spare cup of lemonade here.”

“Sure thing! I’m just waiting for Jeremy’s shift to end. Then we’re going out for dunch. It’s like brunch, but it’s a cross between lunch and dinner,” Candace said as Vanessa settled on the opposite side of the table. Vanessa set the cups on the table, sliding the spare lemonade and a wrapped straw to Candace. She tucked her wallet into the purse, setting them in the space between her and the wall. Even Vanessa’s purse was goth with purple highlights. Just enough to get the point across without being overly edgy.

“That’s nice,” Vanessa said.

Candace glanced at the rest of the packed food court. She prided herself on people-watching, but she didn’t see anyone who looked like they’d hang out in the same clique as Vanessa. “So why do you have two lemonades anyway? I mean, it’s a great drink but-“

“-you thought I was a black-coffee-just-like-my-soul kind of person?” Vanessa finished. There was a tiny mischievous smirk on the corner of her lips.

Candace laughed, maybe a little too loudly. She caught herself just in time. “HA! I mean…no way! I would’ve totally pegged you for the latte type! Cause lattes are cool! And trendy! And hip! And…I’m gonna stop talking now.”

To her surprise, Vanessa laughed. “Joke’s on you. I prefer cappuccinos.”

“That was my second guess.” Candace covered her lie with a long sip of lemonade.

Please don’t call me out on not knowing the difference between lattes and cappuccinos. Please don’t call me out on not knowing the difference between lattes and cappuccinos…

“Anyway, there’s a new lemonade kiosk and I was thirsty,” Vanessa said. “Buy One, Get One Free deal this week to celebrate the grand opening. Tried telling the cashier I was by myself, but he insisted on giving me the extra cup because he didn’t want the owner-slash-mascot to accuse him of stealing corporate secrets for the orange juice empire, whatever that means.”

“Owner-slash-mascot?” Candace echoed.

Vanessa pointed behind Candace. Shrieks erupted from several families as a large man wearing a hat decked out with lemons jumped onto their table, disregarding the half-eaten burgers and fries. Whatever lunch was left was quickly snatched away before the man trampled them underfoot.

“BOO-YAH LEMONADE IS IN BUSINESS, BABY!” he screeched, pumping his fists into the air and being oblivious to the crowd’s general annoyance. “GET ‘EM WHILE THEY’RE COLD AND FRESH! LEMONADE RULES, ORANGE JUICE DROOLS!”

“Mall security team to food court! Code Yellow! The owner-slash-mascot of Boo-Yah Lemonade is being annoying again! I repeat, Code Yellow!”

As a mall security team thundered up the escalator, the man leapt off the table and shoved people aside in his hurry to get away.

“I’M A PUBLIC NUISANCE FOR THE GLORY OF LEMONADE!” his voice faded away as he ran into the nearest department store. The crowd parted to let the mall security team through, then went back to their regular weekend at the mall schedules as if nothing had ever happened.

Vanessa swirled her lemonade with her straw. She was probably too used to craziness to be affected much. “So have you watched any of my DVDs yet? Have you gotten to Le Coeur Noir De Douleur et de la Tristesse Douce?”

“Is the goat head supposed to visually indicate the woman’s headstrong nature?” Candace asked. She wasn’t mentioning that she couldn’t pronounce the foreign film titles at all.

Vanessa shrugged. “I thought it represented her childhood on the farm before the loan shark took away the goats as payment for her father’s debt, but your guess is pretty good too.”

“Real art is so confusing,” Candace admitted.

“Yeah, but that’s why it’s so fun,” Vanessa said.

Then Irving passed by their table, holding several large posters with two very familiar faces printed on them. Candace snatched a poster from the top of the stack, startling Irving into dropping the rest.

“Hey, what gives?” Irving grumbled, but Candace and Vanessa ignored his protests.

The poster featured her brothers, an elaborate outdoor battle arena as the bustworthy project of the day, and their backyard as the location. The three prerequisites to any bust.

Dunch would have to wait. It was busting time now.  

“Could you tell Jeremy I need to go bust my brothers? He’ll understand,” Candace asked. She tried to fold the poster for easy carrying, but it was too large for her purse and her skirt lacked pockets. Then she crushed her empty lemonade cup and dropped it into the garbage can. “I’ll come back when I’m done.”

“Alright. Nice hanging out with you.” Vanessa waved, and Candace almost tumbled down the escalator in her haste to return the gesture, keep the poster from being ripped, and call her mom at the same time.

But she managed to speed-dial her mom, cackling maniacally as she tore through the mall and weaved around shoppers, only managing to lose a third of the poster in the process.

“MOM! PHINEAS AND FERB ARE HOSTING A HOLOGRAPHIC BATTLE ROYALE BETWEEN ALL FOUR PLAYING CARD SUITS!”

o-o-o-o-o

Vanessa walked up to Slushy Dawg once the line of customers thinned. Jeremy wiped a spot on the counter, smiling brightly before she even got to the register.

She could see why Candace was so enamored with him. Jeremy was either a really good actor or just oddly calm when it came to retail. No wonder Candace felt comfortable enough to push back the time on short notice.

She never could’ve done that with Johnny, and she and Monty needed to coordinate timing on their dates to avoid parental outrage.

“Welcome to Slushy Dawg! May I take your order?” Jeremy asked.

Vanessa shook her head. Slushy Dawg would never get any better, but she kept that comment to herself. “I’m not ordering. Just here on Candace’s behalf. She’ll meet you for dunch once she’s finished busting her brothers.”

Jeremy chuckled. “That’s Candace for you.”

“She’s really running all the way to the suburbs?”

“Candace has a lot of endurance.”

“That’s really cool,” Vanessa said.  

“I know, right?” Jeremy beamed.

Candace was so lucky to have an understanding boyfriend. It was definitely a breath of fresh air from what she usually dealt with.

#phineas and ferb #candace flynn #jeremy johnson #vanessa doofenshmirtz #fanfiction #104 words for 104 days #canderemy

[ducknotinarow]

[drake/fenton] “  i want you here.  ”

softer prompts

Being a hero came with a lot like a rival who outshined you with out even having to try. Soon as the great Gizmoduck came around all would cheer and root for the flying tin can. He was the darling after all and everyone just ate him up. What hack he needed a full on metal casing to even do anything. Nothing like drake himself who went into actual danger with out protection!

He didn't get why the bucket head kept coming into his city, maybe just to rub his frame in the mallards face. The never! Of course they took over his latest case nothing to big just a minor fight with some eggheads trying to lift some materials from the shipping yard. Gizmoduck though didn't seem to be around after Drake took care of clean up and had them tied up ready for the cops to show. Drake shouldn't care that the tin head wasn't around and yet. He was standing around scanning the area with his eyes looking out for him. Crook weren’t going on anywhere so he decided to take a look, out of curiosity only clearly. Didn’t need to go far finding them sitting out resting against some storage cubes. Was he hurt? Drake walked on over, arms at his side, chest puffed out as he carried pride in his stride. Soon wearing off when they noticed Gizmo took his helmet off, seeing Fenton’s face how it was hanging. Bags under his eyes as dark as the sky of the city. It was humanizing to Drake. “Oh uh sorry Fent I’ll leave you be cops should be here soon and-” Pausing when he felt a tug at his cape, turning over his shoulder to see Fenton had grabbed him. Something clearly didn’t seem right. “Did you take a bad hit there? Shees and here I though that metal around you would keep you safe from all of that. Guess not even the Gizmo suit is up to par.” No response though. This was weird sure they didn't take Drake’s bait often but right now he just wasn’t reacting at all. he seemed so worn and torn down as if the spirt had be ripped out from him instead. Suddenly they turned too look at him. Call him soft but even Drake being the hero he was could leave his rival sitting around like this. A heavy sigh and he knew what he was going to be doing. ------ Back at the watch tower he let LP know he was going to out longer due to his unexpected guest in the tower right now. Guess it was good he never got rid of the bed he once used. Walking past the suit Fenton left on the ground, course mumbling about it in turn as he went to check on them. Wanted to lay down some rules before he headed back home. But the sight of Fenton sitting in the window of the tower. Jeez, he took off his hat and removed his mask before walking over and bugging the other duck so he could sit with them. Fenton never shut up really so him be so quite was aggravating to Drake. “Are you going to tell me why you got that stupid look on you’re face?” Drake blurted out suddenly. Nothing. “Well you don’t seem hurt so not an injury I take it?” Nothing. “Did you get fired from you cozy job?” Nothing. Drake rolled his eyes and went to leave when Fenton’s hand reached over and grabbed on Drake’s own. “  i want you here. ”

Drake blinked a moment, thinking about it that was the most he heard them say since they got tangled up in his job eailer. Something wasn’t right with them. Drake sighed and stayed put looking out to the city before them. “You know, this part of why I set my base in the bridge I love staring at the city lights like this.” He was just talking not sure what to say but Fenton seemed to appreciate it. “The city is kind of beautiful from far away, if you ignore the high crime rate. All the litter, the smog in the air-” he went on to list off as he counted on his fingers. A slight chuckle from the duck beside him got him to look over to Fenton, seeing that smile crack on their bill, the glow of the city casting to his face. Not Gizmoduck but Fenton’s. He cleared his throat and looked forward actting like he didn’t just have that moment. “Schools are a bit under preforming too, the suburbs are not as bad but still a bit annoying.”  He pressed on Fenton seeming to enjoy the conversation even if Drake felt he was rambling, for once.

#muse| drake mallard #kicktotheside #[ we can be heros - kickstotheside] #softer prompts #((poor fenton ;3;))

[sher-soc-the-famder]

Ok with the introduction of Remus and the confirmation that Virgil used to be a Dark Side, this is what I'm hoping for:

A Dark Side that used to be Light.

Here's the thing, I'm assuming that there's going to be one other Side, bringing the total count up to seven and matching the rainbow theory. I don't think they're counterparts to each other (other than Remus and Roman) but if following the logic that Virgil was a dark side until recently, if this last side is also just a pure dark side that meant they outnumbered the main sides.

3 v. 4

Personally, I don't like the implications that Thomas has more dark traits or traits that he sees as negative than positive. Thomas is a positive person and the idea that he's been repressing over half of himself rubs me the wrong way

HOWEVER

if this last Side used to be a main one that went dark around the same time Virgil started improving then Thomas would have had a majority in the Light! I think it would be interesting to explore too! Things that were seen as not that bad or even good as a child and are now ignore or shunned as an adult are all too common

I mean that's probably not it, but I can hope right?

#sanders sides #ts spoilers #wear a tin hat with pride

[flowersintheattic254]

Remember the picture of C yesterday and @notes-from-nowhere comment that C was conveniently pointing over his shoulder to the pic of Ez/Mia in a way that mimicked where M’s diploma was.

An interesting coincidence, however a friend here has pointed out something else to me that was missed.

If we look at a previous pic of C’s from his IG in May 2018 (below) it’s clear that C has deliberately flipped the above video before posting.

Now if I was a conspiracy theorist (like C) and wearing my tin foil hat with pride I’d say he’d flipped that pic deliberately just to be able to make that point and to make a clear point about Ezm/ia. A little Easter egg for people to find like the Captain he is.

[lilydvoratrelundar]

4, 5, 6, 10, 12, 24, 26, 38 for LGBT ask. Also I tried to answer your ask 3 times but Tumblr is a bitch and I'm mad at it now so I'll answer it tomorrow

ty for the asks! :D also F for tumblr being an arse as usual

4 - past labels you’ve used: oh i shuffled through a Lot before i decided on demigirl/trans. genderqueer (which i still use), bigender, demifluid, gnederfluid, bi, also a very embarrassing stage in my life when i thought i was cis.

5 - how long have you been using your current labels: i can’t really remember, i think i decided to just use plain ol’ trans in late august last year. i seem to remember quietly crying in our tent when my family was camping because i’d finally figured out something that felt right

6 - what made you realise your current labels fit you: tbh it’s simpler. i tried on a bunch of labels but really, they were a bit too complicated for how i felt, and i honestly worried i’d be using them incorrectly

10 - when did you realise you weren’t cishet: it was around summer last year, i cant remember any precise dates but i remember seeing a dress i really wanted to wear at the ABBA museum once. i also remember that was the summer when some of the lads in the year below at school wore skirts to protest shorts not being part of the uniform (and it bloody worked) and being sort of “ehhh i wanna wear skirts but like,, not for that reason just wanna wear a skirt”.

12 - favourite flags visually: im biased but demigirl flag is really pretty. also the bi and pan flags are nice

24 - favourite canon lgbtq character: nyssa & tegan being canon lesbians is just excellent. 

26 - some characters you headcanon as lgbtq: romanadvoratrelundar is a trans lesbian, as my url and pfp may indicate. the doc is genderqueer and ace. there is no way melanie bush isn’t a lesbian. that tin dog is probably gay too. nobody in the tardis is a cishet

38 - do you own pride merch? would you like to?: plannin on crocheting myself a hat in some pride colours when winter comes around. but unfortunately, due to this rather inconvenient closet i appear to be in, i can’t have anything too obvious

#shit i forgot 38!!! sorry ill edit it now

[sirrriusblack]

A Sense of Pride

tw for mentions of child abuse

* * *

Sirius Orion Black, eldest son of Orion and Walburga Black and heir to the house of Black, was proud of his name. He’d grown up with a sense of pride about his blood status and his house and all the important people he was surrounded by. He’d grown up believing that mudbloods and blood traitors were horrible people. He’d always felt there was something slightly off about those beliefs, but it was indeed, all the boy knew. So on the first day of September, in 1971, when the sorting hat was put on his head, and when it called out across the Great Hall a loud “GRYFFINDOR!”, well Sirius wasn’t too happy. He hadn’t really wanted to be in Slytherin like everyone else, but it still felt wrong to not be. And of course he was glad when he looked over to his eldest and favourite cousin Andromeda to see her smiling with pride; but then he thought about the way she’d been treated and all she’d had to go through for being sorted into Hufflepuff. Of course he was glad when he saw his new friend James Potter—who he’d met on the Hogwarts Express—smiling that they’d both been sorted into the same house; but then he thought of the boy’s last name, and all the nasty things his mother and father had said about them. About how Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were blood traitors, welcoming mudbloods and worse into their homes. Nevertheless, he pointedly avoided looking to his family at the Slytherin table, sat down next to the Potter boy and tried not to think about the letter his mother would send him and the filthy words he would have to read.

But Sirius couldn’t seem to keep his mind off his sorting, even after the feast when he’d been lead to the Gryffindor common room. He watched the portrait of The Fat Lady swing open and thought about what the Slytherin common room might look like, black and green and with a whole wall looking into the Great Lake like Narcissa Black had described to him after her first term at Hogwarts. He tried to hate the blazing fire and soft couches that he wanted to fall onto, because shouldn’t this all feel wrong? Shouldn’t he be in Slytherin like everyone else in his family? Did being sorted into Gryffindor make him—like it had supposedly made Andromeda—a blood traitor? But it didn’t feel all that wrong when he was assigned a dorm room with the Potter boy. And it didn’t feel wrong when he watched a short, plump nervous boy with thin blond hair walk into his and James’ dorm. And it didn’t feel wrong when a taller, skinny boy stumbled into the room, his skin littered with scars of all shapes and sizes. And it definitely didn’t feel wrong when all four of the boys, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin stayed up all night sitting on the floor, laughing and snacking on chocolate frogs.

Be that as it may, Sirius felt all wrong when he finally received his letter from home. Fortunately, it wasn’t a howler, but he still felt like all eyes were on him as he read the filth his mother had wrote him. “You don’t belong!” the voices around him seemed to say. Later that day, he knocked on Professor McGonagall’s office door and stepped nervously into the room when she told him to come in. The somewhat young professor looked up at the boy with short and slicked black hair and a neat tie through the square rimmed glasses she was wearing.

“Can I help you, Mr. Black?” She asked, quite concerned by his trembling hands. He nodded quickly.

“I hope so, Professor.” Sirius watched the woman’s eyebrows raise with curiosity and politely declined her offer to sit down. He was too nervous to move. “I received a letter from my mother at breakfast this morning.” Sirius held up the folded piece of parchment and immediately froze when the Professor motioned for him to pass it to her. “Oh. You don’t have to read it. I just—“ he took a deep breath and decided to indeed take a seat to qualm his trembling legs. “My mother would like to know if there is any way I can be re-sorted. Possibly into Slytherin. You see, my whole family has been in Slytherin—except for Andromeda of course, but I don’t think my mother thinks—“ the Professor cut him off.

“I am quite acquainted with your family history, Mr. Black.” Sirius quickly blinked and nodded. “However, the Sorting Hat is a very reliable tool and I am afraid that it is relatively unlikely another sorting would lead to a different outcome.” At Professor McGonagall’s words, Sirius deflated a bit. His mother would not like her answer. “Nevertheless, if you let me see that letter, I might gain a better understanding of the reasoning behind your mother’s wishes and how we can proceed to fix this problem.” Sirius’ eyes widened and he scratched at the palm of his hand, one of his nervous ticks.

“Oh—it might be better if I get my mother to send another letter, this one—um, has some personal information in it,” he quickly responded. The head of house raised her eyebrows.

“I assure you, Mr. Black, you have my full confidentiality in this matter. Now please, hand over the letter.” Sirius tensed up, but he could not find a way out of this. If he didn’t fix this, his mother—well, he would be in a lot of trouble. So he handed the letter over to Professor McGonagall and watched her eyes widen as she read his mother’s words. He thought of what his mother had written; words like blood traitor, disappointment, disgrace. He thought of his mother writing the words at home, rattling off to his father about what she’d do to him when he got back.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, shifted in her seat and took a sip of her steaming tea before she put the piece of parchment down and looked at him. “Okay Sirius, I’m going to ask you a question, and I’d appreciate if you answer me honestly, understand?” McGonagall asked him.

“Yes, Professor.” Sirius nodded, albeit quite nervously.

“Do you wish to move houses? You, and not your mother, Sirius,” she clarified, raising the letter pointedly. Sirius thought about the events of the previous night. He thought about how much he liked his new friends. He thought about the outstanding number of curses Remus had in his vocabulary. He thought about how Peter shared all the sweets he’d packed with the other three boys. He thought about the fact that no one had hesitated when he’d told them his last name like so many people often did. He thought about how he’d hesitated when he’d heard James say ‘Potter’ and how utterly wrong he’d been to do so. He thought about Andromeda and how much he loved her. He thought about how kind and caring and funny and good she was. If liking these people meant Sirius was a blood traitor, then so be it. Sirius was a blood traitor. He felt a slight sense of pride about that.

“No, Professor. I don’t think I do.” He told her, a half smile forming on his face.

“Very well, Mr. Black. I’ll write to your mother to let her know we are unable to perform another sorting.” Professor McGonagall couldn’t help but smile too. Sirius stood up. “Before you go,“ McGonagall pushed a tin of biscuits towards him. “Have a biscuit, Mr. Black.” Sirius picked up a chocolate cookie and walked to the door.

“Thank you, Professor,” the black haired boy said, closing it behind him. They both knew he wasn’t just talking about the biscuit.

* * *

quick note: I have this headcanon that Sirius was very prim and proper when he started hogwarts, and he didn’t find much wrong with using words like mudblood and etc. because he thought it was normal due to his upbringing. Later in the year —with the help of the marauders and a few detentions— he became accustomed to using more acceptable terms and became very laid back and messy [specifically to spite his mother]

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