#I was just showing my students how it would be written in a square

[helenstudies]

If you know you know

#and if you don't this is the character with most strokes in Chinese language #biang #from #biang biang mian #and I tried to fit it into a tiny square #chinese language #studyblr #chinese studyblr #langblr #100 days of productivity #chinese langblr #I was just showing my students how it would be written in a square #tbh I think they're less annoyed with their “3 strokes per word” hànzì homeworks now lol #hanzi #chinese character #kanji

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Just Like This

Summary: Working a second job in a bar to help pay for Sammy’s education, Dean finds a kindred spirit in bar manager Y/N. When a drunk Douchebag gets too handsy with her, Dean quickly jumps to her defence but faces harsh consequences.

Pairing: Bartender!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Rating: Teen

Bingo Square: Getting Fired for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: sexual assault (groping), fluff, angst, fighting, minor violence, Chuck is a complete and utter asshole in this, getting fired, quitting in solidarity, first kiss, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Okay, it feels like an age since I’ve written anything that’s just pure floof. I hope you enjoy this fluffy, protective, besotted Dean fic. Please be kind. I’ve had my angst hat on for a long time, and though this was really refreshing, it’s also a little daunting!

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It wasn’t the best job in the world, but as part-time work went, Dean knew it could be a hell of a lot worse than this. He worked with his dad in the garage during the day and worked four nights a week and two shifts at the weekend in Shurley’s Sports Bar. His wages and tips went to his dad to help pay for Sammy’s education. Sure, the kid had a full ride to Stanford; however, he still needed to pay for accommodation after freshman year and the thousands of books he needed for his coursework. And at least this way, his dad didn’t put himself in an early grave by working all the hours God gave him. Lord knows he’d done enough of that when they were kids.

Shurley’s was a decent bar. It had a prime location between the University of Kansas campus and downtown, so it always has a steady stream of customers. It quietened during the summer when the students went home or on their travels, but the locals still made trade steady enough. The owner, Chuck, was a bit of a dick, but he barely showed his face around the place, and the other staff were decent, making it a great place to work.

“Hey, Dean,” Y/N said as she came out of the back office. Y/N was the bar manager and a great girl. They had a lot in common; both lost their mothers when they were young and looked after their younger siblings while their fathers worked three jobs to try and make ends meet. Y/N’d had to drop out of college when her father took unexpectedly sick, having to take care of him and her little sister. Now that her father had passed and her sister had a full ride to another prestigious college, Harvard, Y/N lived in the tiny apartment above the bakery where she worked four days a week and in the bar four nights a week and every Saturday night. The rest of the time, she studied part-time to finish her college education and sent every spare cent she had to her sister in Boston.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled at her. She was pretty, too, and Dean wasn’t afraid to admit that he had a massive crush on her. Not that anything would ever happen because she was her, and he was… well, he wasn’t good enough for a girl like that. “How are ya, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, Dean. How are you? Oh! Did you manage to get Sam’s apartment sorted?” Y/N asked, and he smiled that she’d remember such a thing.

“Yeah, it’s all good now. We managed to get the rest of the deposit together,” Dean said. “Thanks for the extra shifts, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Y/N smiled. “I still can’t believe landlords can actually do that,” Y/N shook her head as she headed behind the bar and started filling the refrigerators with bottles of beer and wine to prepare for the busy Friday night shift.

“Yeah, us either. But it’s done, and he has somewhere to live,” Dean said as he put the last menus and condiment buckets on the tables. “What needs to be done next, boss?” he asked, smirking when Y/N chuckled. She hated being called that, but he seemed to be the only one she didn’t scold for it.

“I could use a hand changing over the barrels if you’ve got time?” she said, breaking up the cardboard that the bottles had been housed in.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dean headed into the storeroom and started shifting the beer barrels behind the bar as Y/N continued putting bottles in the fridges and replacing the almost empty spirit bottles with full ones to accommodate the busiest night of the year: Friday night football and Freshers Week.

The bar was packed with customers, the warm, sunny weather drawing even more of them in than usual, and of course, Chuck had decided tonight was a good night to show face and ‘help’, putting the staff on edge. Dean had gone with the head down and get on with it attitude, glad it was three deep at the bar so he had an excuse not to have to entertain Chuck for very long.

Y/N had been running around after Chuck all night, finding this paperwork and that invoice and the employee payroll for the past six weeks. Eventually, when he couldn’t possibly ask for anything more, she’d escaped the office, having brazenly told her boss that she was needed front of house to help serve customers.

“I swear,” she’d said as she tied her little black server’s apron around her waist, “It’s like he fucking knew tonight would be the busiest night but still came to check months old paperwork! God, that man is insufferable!”

It wasn’t often that Y/N showed her annoyance, and Dean couldn’t help but think it was cute. Though, admittedly, that could be his crush talking, her furrowed brow and tiny pout were adorable.

“What can I do to help?” he asked as she took her place behind the bar.

“I should be asking you that question!” she giggled. “What do you need me to do?”

“We could do with someone collecting and cleaning the empty glasses, if you wouldn’t mind?” he responded, smiling as she picked up a basket, cleaning spray, and a cloth before he’d finished his sentence.

“You got it,” she winked and headed onto the floor to clear and wipe the tables down. And that, Dean thought, is what makes a good boss. Someone who works with the team to achieve the same goal. Someone who isn’t afraid of stepping in to help by doing the most mundane tasks that are below their pay grade.

Y/N was a breath of fresh air for him in so many ways. She was bubbly and caring, and no matter what was thrown her way, she responded with an air of calmness and dignity that he admired.

“Hey, man. What can I get ya?” Dean asked the next patron, finally taking his eyes off the girl slowly taking over his every thought.

“Be careful,” Dean said as Y/N headed back onto the floor to clear more glasses and tables. “It’s getting rowdy out there. You know what those college boys can be like.”

“Thanks, Dean,” she smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He knew she would be. He’d seen her handling every kind of drunk customer. Still, he’d watch her closely because he was more worried than usual. The crowd tonight seemed even more enthused thanks to the local sports team playing. It still surprised him how often the female staff got touched inappropriately and had the most vulgar things said to them by too drunk and far too confident men. More than once Dean had had to step in and stop something from going too far, and he’d do it as many times as he needed to for Y/N or any of the other female staff.

Y/N managed to get around most of the bar unscathed, but there was a particularly boisterous table of men who only frequented the bar when the Chiefs played. Dean had been watching them all night because they seemed to have forgotten their age and tried to out-drink their much younger counterparts. They’d already run their mouths off to the bar staff, and now one of them in particular had their beady eye on Y/N as she moved from table to table, collecting empty glasses and bottles.

Swapping her tray out for an empty one, Y/N made her way over to their table, and the second she got close enough, the balding guy with the beady eye was quick to rear his hand back and smack her ass. Dean’s hackles rose, and he was on high alert as he watched her give the douchebag a piece of her mind. But he didn’t stop. Douchebag wrapped his arms around her waist and tried pulling her onto his lap. All the while, his douchebag little friends laughed and cheered him on like he’d won a fucking prize.

Dean saw red as he ran around the bar and strode purposely over to the group of middle-aged men amid a mid-life crisis and pulled Y/N from his hold, dragging her behind him to protect her.

“The lady told you to leave her alone. I suggest you do that,” Dean fumed, only getting angrier at Douchebag’s smirk.

“Oh, ladies and gentlemen, we have a jealous boyfriend trying to protect his girl! You know, if she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let her out the house wearing something so…” he paused as he leered up and down Y/N’s body, “revealing.”

“Listen, asshole, you don’t want to piss me off right now. Why don’t you and your buddies call it a night and go home? You’ve clearly had too much to drink, and we don’t take kindly to people assaulting our staff here,” Dean’s jaw was clenched, but he’d somehow managed to keep his voice steady.

“Sorry, man,” Douchebag smirked as he stood. “Just can’t help myself when I see a pretty girl showing off half her body like a Goddamn little tease. She’s asking for it, really.”

That was the last straw, and as Douchebag made one final (and unfortunately successful) attempt to get his hands on Y/N, Dean pulled his fist back and punched him square on the nose. The resounding crack as Dean broke the guy’s nose was satisfying, as were the synchronised grimacing ‘oohs’ that the audience this little corner of the bar had attracted.

“You broke my nose, asshole!” Douchebag spluttered. “I’m reporting you for assault!”

“You do that,” Y/N said, “and I’ll have you arrested, too. This whole bar and the CCTV saw you grope me twice and clearly saw me trying to get you off me! What he did,” she pointed at Dean, “was save me from being sexually assaulted!”

“Come on, man,” one of Douchebag’s friends said, patting him on the back. “Let’s get you to the hospital. It’s not worth it.”

“Damn straight it’s not!” Dean yelled. “Any way you spin this, he doesn’t win, so get the hell out and don’t come back!”

Tail between their legs, Douchebag and his friends left the bar. The second the door shut behind them, Dean was next to Y/N, checking her for injuries.

“I’m fine, Dean,” she insisted, but her eyes told a different story. The encounter had shaken her up, and Dean wanted to fix it, needed to fix it.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not. You’re–” Dean began but was interrupted by the shrill voice of Chuck.

“Winchester, my office, now! You too, Y/N.”

Seeing Y/N sitting beside him on the other side of the desk was strange. This was where she did all the paperwork, payroll, ordering, and invoicing, so to see Chuck on her chair was disconcerting. And not good.

“I don’t know what was going on out there–” Chuck began, and Dean scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re bar manager was sexually assaulted by a customer. That’s what happened!” Dean sat forward on his chair, raising his voice. He only calmed when Y/N placed her hand on his forearm.

Chuck pursed his lips at his outburst and continued speaking as if Dean hadn’t interrupted.

“I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, sexual assault or not,” Chuck looked pointedly at Y/N before he continued. “It’s no excuse for my staff to behave violently.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Dean fumed. “That… scumbag… touched her ass and her breasts and tried to force her into his lap! You see those bruises, right?” he asked as he pointed to the dark purple fingerprint marks on her arms.

“Inappropriate comments, slurs, even touching, is to be expected when you work in a bar–” Chuck was interrupted again, this time by Y/N.

“There are no touching policies in every strip club in the country for a reason, Chuck! You cannot expect it to be any different in a fratboy sports bar! No one should go to work expecting that being sexually assaulted is okay!”

“For God’s sake, Y/N! So what a guy touched your ass and tits! You should be flattered!”

“It was sexual assault, Chuck! That guy,” Y/N pointed behind her in the general direction of the bar, “touched me without permission, and I could have him charged! You too with how you’re behaving!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic! I feel sorry for your boyfriend if this is how prudish you are!”

“Hey, that is–” Dean interjected, but Chuck kept talking.

“Dean, you’re fired. I cannot, and will not, allow a violent brute to work in my bar.”

“You can’t do that!” Y/N protested.

“Watch it, or you’ll be gone, too!” Chuck threatened, but Dean knew it was an empty one with her. He needed her too much. The bar would burn to the ground without her in charge.

“No need. I quit. Effective immediately. I cannot, and will not,” Y/N glared at Chuck as she repeated his words to him, “work in a place where I’m expected to be sexually harassed and assaulted and ignore it. I cannot, and will not, work for a man who fires a good person for helping someone in need.”

Standing, Y/N took off her apron and name tag and threw them on the desk. She unhooked the keys from her belt and pulled the cash box towards her, opening it and pulling out two brown envelopes, handing one to Dean and putting the other in her pocket. Once she’d locked the cash box, she tossed her keys down on the cheap metal desk with a satisfying clang.

“Really? You’re going to quit over him?” Chuck scoffed.

“Yes. Dean is worth a thousand shitty bar jobs like this one, and I’d choose him over any of them in a heartbeat,” Y/N said with her head held high. “I hope you know you’ve just lost your two best workers on the busiest night of the year. Come on, Dean. Let’s get out of this shithole.”

Dean didn’t protest. He stood up, smirked at Chuck because he just couldn’t help himself, and followed Y/N out of the bar and onto the street.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t need to do that. I’m a big boy, and I can look after myself,” Dean said after walking in silence for a few minutes.

“I know you can, and yes, I did. That was unfair and undeserved. Especially because it was my fault,” Y/N responded.

“Hey, don’t ever… it wasn’t your fault. Things like that are never the woman’s fault, you know that, right?” Dean couldn’t believe she’d ever think something like that would be her own doing.

“I know, but if I’d listened to you and let Marcus clear tables instead of me, none of this would’ve happened.”

“No. I won’t hear it. You didn’t ask to be groped by a balding douchebag going through a mid-life crisis, sweetheart. Don’t ever apologise for someone else’s wrongdoing,” he reassured her.

“So, what do we do now? We both kinda needed that job,” Y/N chuckled, but it held no humour.

“Well, I might know a guy who owns a wine bar downtown. A classy establishment, so the tips are better. And we’d be treated right,” Dean said, thinking of the bar Cas had tried to get him to work in for months.

“You have a buddy with a bar, and you chose to stay working in that shithole?” Y/N asked in disbelief. “Why? What would possess you to stay there? Willingly?”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Dean smirked. This wasn’t where he envisioned this conversation going–if it ever happened at all, that is–but the perfect opportunity had presented itself and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t take it. “I got to see you almost every day.”

“Come on! You did not stay there for me!” Y/N scoffed, and Dean shrugged his shoulders, his lips tugging upwards in a shy smile.

“I did, actually. Can’t think of anyone better to spend so much time with.”

“Dean Winchester,” she grinned. “Are you flirting with me?” The teasing tone in her words was one he’d never heard before, and he liked it.

“Do you want me to be flirting with you?” he’d asked, needing to hear her say it before he did something stupid because he’d misread the signals.

“Yeah… I think I do,” Y/N giggled, stepping closer to him, bumping their arms together as they stepped in sync down the sidewalk.

“Yeah?” he asked, checking again because, quite frankly, she was her and he was him.

“Yeah.”

Dean stopped walking and gently grabbed her forearm to stop her from walking ahead. Feeling brave, Dean placed his hands on her cheeks and dipped his head, slowly lowering his lips to hers. Every inch closer he got, he switched his gaze between her lips and her eyes, making sure this was what she wanted.

When there was no hesitation and nowhere else to go, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. They were as soft as they always looked, softer even, and tasted as sweet as he’d imagined they would.

Y/N pressed herself closer to him with a low hum and slid her arms up his chest, resting one hand on his pec and the other curling around his neck. Dean licked her bottom lip, encouraging her to open her mouth and let him deepen their kiss.

He failed to hold back a groan when his tongue met hers, the feeling so much better than anything his mind could’ve conjured up. Dean couldn’t remember how long he’d wanted this, and now that it was happening, he knew he’d do whatever he could to keep her in his arms, just like this.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

#j3bingo #just like this #au dean winchester x reader #bartender!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #fluff

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Character bingo for Vil and Idia

***Standard disclaimer: These are just my personal opinions of the character(s); regardless of what I may think of them, sharing my thoughts is NOT meant to offend or to shame anyone that thinks differently.***

Truth be told, I don’t care for a majority of the dorm leaders, and Vil is no exception to this. I don’t necessarily think he’s poorly written or anything, though! On the contrary, I really enjoyed his story arc across episodes 5 and 6, and I think that both the lessons Vil imparts onto his students and the lessons he learns for himself are very valuable. Being content with yourself and being unconcerned with constantly comparing yourself to others is extremely relevant, especially in this day and age where social media is so prevalent and a lot of people look to it for validation.

I think that Vil has a lot of good things going for him, most notably his confidence and determination. He knows just how skilled he is, but he also knows that he must work hard to not only maintain that skill, but to excel in it. I really admire that about Vil--he’s always willing to put forth his own effort to improve, rather than rely on magic or other shortcuts. Vil has TONS of super inspiring lines, and I love them all. A particular favorite of mine is, “I’m not interested in magic that only lasts until midnight.” (this is a very rough translation that I recall from the original Japanese, so apologies if I misremembered it) It really showcases his resolve!! I also like how Vil challenges traditional gender roles; he’s not afraid to show an interest in fashion, beauty, and taking care of himself despite being a man, even when society generally looks down on such things. He’s also not just all bark and no bite, Vil is strong in his own right and shows that you can be powerful and pretty at the same time. He’s very confident in being himself, and that’s super admirable!

Actually, I kind of feel bad for Vil 😅 Around the time of episode 5′s release in TWST JP, he was getting some salt directed his way because people completely misread why he Overblotted. I believe part of the misunderstanding could be chalked up to the language barrier between JP and the rest of the world; a lot of the Japanese language’s nuances did not translate over well into English (through no fault of the fan translators, but just due to the nature of the differences in languages). A lot of people were taking Vil’s OB to be the result of pure vanity and jealousy, but that’s NOT the case. When he was screaming for others not to look at him because he was “so ugly”, Vil did NOT mean it in a literal sense of being physically repulsive, he meant that he had an “ugly heart”. Recall that Vil was very intent on winning through his own talents and merits, but that he had resorted to attempting to poisoning his competition to gain an unfair advantage when the performance drew near. He resorted to foul play when he had previously said he wanted to win fair and square, and as Vil is Overblotting, he’s realizing how hypocritical he had been, and thus, how “ugly” he is really is ON THE INSIDE. This hurts him particularly deeply because Vil was constantly told by his peers in childhood that because he played the parts of villains, he must also be a bad person off-set, and Vil trying to poison his rival in present day is basically AFFIRMING all those beliefs that Vil was working so desperately to prove were false. I really wish people would see past the surface and realize that Vil’s problems don’t just amount to him being concerned with his appearance or with his popularity, but with his own struggles to accept, and be happy with, himself. There’s definitely a lot more than meets the eye when it comes to Vil!

... Now, I know you must be very confused. I opened up my remarks on Vil by stating that I don’t like him, but then I proceed to defend his positive traits for 3 consecutive paragraphs 🤣 That’s because even the characters I don’t personally enjoy have good points, and I want to acknowledge those rather than just mindlessly bashing on a character. It’s time to get down to business to defeat the Huns--

The main reason I don’t like Vil is because of how... intense he can be? Like, there’s nothing wrong with him being ambitious, but he comes on too strongly both in appearance and in personality although not gonna lie, I find his Kool-aid tipped hair hella ugly. His eye makeup is very striking (particularly in his dorm uniform), and he exudes this energy of “you cannot hope to touch me” that just scares me off. If I saw him wandering around in real life, I’d cross the sidewalk just to put distance between me and that oppressive aura. Vil’s sternness isn’t doing him any favors in my eyes either. I totally get that he’s in an industry that demands a lot from him, but I think Vil takes it too far when he imposes those high expectations on everyone else around him. You can say that he has good intentions (which I’m sure he does), but I still think that Vil goes too far with his methods and needs to be more mindful of others’ limitations and how to work around them rather than keep pushing them. To me, Vil kind of reads like an unrelenting and uncompromising tiger parent, which is very off-putting.

I also dislike Vil partly because of what he is: a celebrity. I admit that it comes across as a very shallow reason for disliking Vil, but it’s just a very personal thing for me. I have never ever been taken by celebrities (real ones or fictional ones) or celebrity worship culture (especially the parasocial relationship aspects of it); there’s such a large gap between them and their followers that people try to traverse to get closer to their idols or to be like them, and that makes me feel very uncomfortable. I also just don’t like how “in the spotlight” celebrities are; I much prefer characters that operate “in the shadows” and go under the radar.

Speaking of being “in the spotlight”, I felt like Vil was hogging it in episode 5. I get it, it’s technically his chapter so the focus will be on him. However, I feel like he got so much more screen time than previous episodes’ dorm leaders (except maybe Kalim?), and this was very apparent since there were a lot more characters in episode 5 for Vil to compete with for lines and presence. I felt like Ace and Rook especially faded away into the background while Vil dominated, and that wasn’t something that I personally enjoyed. Episode 6 did a better job of balancing out Vil’s screen time with the other boys, but episode 5 was just Not It for me 😔

In conclusion, while I think that Vil goes through a fascinating character arc, has admirable traits, and is a lot more complex than people take him to be, who and what Vil is fundamentally does not appeal to me.

***CONTENT WARNING: My thoughts under the Character Opinion Bingo for Idia mention death and suicide!***

Idia is an... interesting case. He’s one of those characters that I started off not liking very much because I thought that his personality was way too “gimmicky” (especially the way he talks; all that gamer slang and internet lingo got grating for me to read really fast and it took me out of the immersion). WHEN I READ HIS LINES, I CRINGE SO HARD THAT MY SOUL LEAVES MY BODY, REINCARNATES, AND THEN IS REBORN ONLY TO CRINGE SO HARD AGAIN THAT THE CYCLE REPEATS ITSELF. Idia got particularly irritating whenever he assumed his arrogant persona and talked down to his peers. Like, my dude... you should NOT be shit talking the people who are trying to rescue your ass from an undead marriage, they’re RIGHT THERE and they will turn on you so fast. He is, quite literally, THE quintessential elitist gamer, and his only vaguely redeeming quality was that he was sometimes cute when he engaged with Ortho. Needless to say, my initial impression of Idia was Not Good.

What I noticed immediately about Idia (once I looked past all the annoying things he does) is that he legitimately seems to be socially anxious and sometimes straight up fearful of others. I’m not going to go into detail and speculate about potential conditions Idia may or may not have, but I could tell something was seriously eating away at him. His reactions are way too extreme for it just to be a “cute character quirk”; there HAD to have been a good reason for why he’s... like this. (Luckily, we do get to see what that is in episode 6, which I’ll discuss in a bit!) I developed a hesitant interest in Idia because of this observation (yes, in spite of my initial dislike), holding hope that there would be something deeper to his anxious personality. Now, what I didn’t like was when pockets of the fandom interpreted that anxiety as just Idia being “shy”. Granted, we didn’t know at the time what specifically was worrying him so much, but I don’t think it would be wise to conflate very real problems that actively impede his life and his relationships with “shyness”. From the rarity of Idia actually leaving his room to his hesitance to speaking to people face-to-face, it all reads to me as someone who is struggling rather than those just being something slapped in for comedic effect.

Episode 6 completely changed my opinion of Idia. Here, we get to pull back the curtain and see just how much Idia was still grieving the loss of his little brother, on top of dealing with the pressure of carrying on the Shroud family’s VERY important duties. He’s been chained not only by his bloodline, but by his own guilt and involvement in Ortho’s early passing. I’m not someone that cries easily when I’m consuming fictional media, but Idia’s backstory was the ONLY one of the OB boys that actually made me tear up. We see just how deep his hurt goes, and how it emotionally, mentally, and socially cripples him to this day.

As I’ve mentioned in this analysis, Idia appears to have received very little emotional support after experiencing such intense trauma, and a lot of his dialogue and behavior also gives me very deliberate “unaliving himself” intent. It’s a very touching and very real tale about losing a loved one and the consequences death has on the people who cannot properly move on--and that’s a delicate subject that few stories can tackle in a respectful and tactful manner. Episode 6 really made me appreciate Idia’s character more, and it explains most of the hang-ups I had with his personality prior to episode 6. However, I will say that I could not take OB Idia’s dialogue seriously because he was still throwing around all that gamer slang 🤣 Clearly, I don’t vibe with how he talks asdhbasdasodpqbdqoyr8qvbdqso

I think a lot of us in the TWST fandom can relate to Idia in terms of hobbies and interests (I mean, why else would we be playing this game full of pretty anime boys 😅) but I actually relate to Idia in other ways. When Idia’s Groom-for-a-Day SSR came out, a friend was translating a lot of his homescreen lines and they straight up told me, “Idia sounds a lot like you”. When I looked at the lines for myself, I found myself agreeing with them. Idia appears to have a very cynical view of love, gagging at the idea of happily ever afters and begging others to focus on being a student rather than passionately pursuing a romance. That’s very much in line with my own stances on romantic love. No one ever outright tells you “ROMANTIC LOVE IS THE BEST, YOU NEED IT, EVERYTHING ELSE IS TRIVIAL”, but it’s all implied (for example, parents pressuring their children to marry and provide them with grandchildren). It’s an unspoken expectation of society, and I don’t like seeing the media or the people around me constantly pushing romantic love as the “end all, be all” of life. It felt very validating to hear similar thoughts reflected back at me in Idia.

In episode 6, Idia had some lines that really resonated with me: “The story of a hero rescuing his girlfriend from the Underworld is considered beautiful. Why is it that when it’s a younger brother being rescued, it becomes a taboo?” I know that he’s talking about the story of Hercules vs him bringing Ortho back as a humanoid robot, but outside of the context of Idia’s flashback, I interpreted it to mean “platonic/familial love is just as important as romantic love”. That’s likely just me projecting my own views onto a fictional character, but I don’t think there are enough words to describe the immense relief I experienced when I read those lines.

On the surface, Idia comes off as an anxious person with stereotypically nerdy hobbies, but episode 6 provided ample explanation for his character being the way it is, as well as a very compelling narrative about death and learning to cope with it. I’ve also noticed over time just how similar my thoughts on romantic love are with Idia’s, and as a result I find myself projecting my own views onto his.

#Vil Schoenheit #Idia Shroud #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #tw // death #tw // suicide #ask game #character opinion bingo

[sun-undone]

OBX details that make me feral (13/?)

The hot tub scene because as a JJ stan I am legally required to make a post about it

So many amazing things have been written and created about this scene, but I wanted to just add whatever I could to the discussion! (only 2 years late to the party i know i know)

Why does JJ spend the money in the first place?

Since I've been on a spree of looking at JJ's behaviors through a psychological lens, I feel like this scene is definitely one of the most interesting to analyze from that perspective.

I talked a lot about defense mechanisms in my previous post about 1x07, and pretty much all of those concepts are important to keep in mind when thinking about this scene. When trying to understand JJ's mindset and motivations, it's absolutely necessary to look back at the day as a whole and remember the emotional turmoil that he's experienced just in this one day alone (this whole show takes place over the course of like a month so even more reason to get all these kids into therapy STAT). Because of all the emotional baggage that has built up throughout the day, JJ is in desperate need of some relief. But since he's not exactly the best at relieving his distress in a healthy way, his "relief" comes in the form of defense mechanisms, which really just shield him from properly feeling the force of the emotions that are weighing on him.

Acting out

I talked about acting out before, and I feel like the overall definition of this one is the most self-explanatory. This defense is one of the most immature and least adaptive because it is often self-destructive; it causes even more problems.

We know that JJ generally has a pretty jaded, negative view of himself and his future, and the events of the day have probably brought all of those feelings right up to the surface. After having the argument with the Pogues, he undoubtedly feels like a fuck-up for disappointing his friends, and I would imagine that the fight with Luke only makes him feel even lower. Each of those blows to his self-image, one right after the other, definitely makes him think, "well who cares if I blow all the money?? I'm gonna end up alone and in jail anyway".

Another interesting aspect of his acting out is how exactly he decides to do it: he impulsively wastes all of the money and gets smashed. Which is pretty much what Luke wanted to do with the money (technically, he said he was gonna gamble it, but i'll argue that that's functionally the same thing as wasting it).

I just think it's so telling that JJ decides to self-destruct in a way that aligns himself with his father's own self-destructive tendencies. We've seen JJ get high a bunch already in this season, especially during/right after stressful situations (vaping after the first square groupers encounter in 1x02, smoking to "relax and lay low" when they go to the graveyard in 1x02/1x03, etc.) so he could've easily gotten high instead of drunk in this scene too, but nope. He specifically gets drunk, just like we saw Luke do in 1x05 after bailing JJ out of jail. Which brings me to the self-fulfilling prophecy part of all this.

Self-fulfilling prophecy

Pretty sure this one isn't considered a defense or a coping mechanism, but it's more of just a general concept that I definitely think is influencing the specific way in which JJ acts out in this scene. It's more like the lens through with the defenses are filtered.

In case anyone doesn't know, a self-fulfilling prophecy is basically when you have a certain belief, so you subconsciously act in a way that makes the people around you respond in a way that confirms that original belief. A classic example is a teacher labeling a student as an underachiever early on in the semester. Without realizing that they're doing it, that teacher might not call on the student as often or give them the attention that they'd give to other students. And because of that treatment, the student will likely stop trying to achieve in the class, which confirms the teacher's original belief that the student was an underachiever all along.

In JJ's case, he absolutely holds the beliefs (courtesy of Luke) that he will never amount to anything, that he's worthless, and that he's just a bad kid in general. And these ideas have been brought up throughout the day via John B saying "If you keep going down this road, you're gonna end up just like your dad", the Pogues saying that they're "sick of [his] shit", and of course Luke physically and emotionally beating him down afterwards.

(gif from @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo)

So with all of these moments fresh in his mind at the end of a very emotionally taxing day, he embodies the exact version of himself that he does not want to be.

JJ wants to be better than his father, so he copes just like how Luke would, by blowing a bunch of money and getting drunk. He desperately wants to do the right thing and to be loved by the Pogues, so he does the exact wrong thing that he knows will make them disappointed in him.

The fact that he reacts in a way that facilitates confirmation of his worst qualities by the people he loves most just makes the scene that much more heartbreaking. And it also makes me think that maybe a part of him, deep down and far away from conscious awareness, wants to let himself hit his lowest point so he can break down and finally allow himself to be comforted. He can’t directly open up to the Pogues because he’s emotionally closed off (in general, but even more so in this moment because of all the compiled stress of the day). But he can open up in a much more indirect (and not super healthy) way by going off the rails and being the worst version of himself that he can be, hoping that maybe they’ll realize themselves that something is seriously wrong, which is basically what happens.

Reaction formation and denial

I talked about this neurotic defense a bit in a previous post about jiara, and I think it's potentially back to haunt us (me) here. The short version of the concept is that sometimes, when people are hurting emotionally and feel like they have to hide their true feelings, they'll act in the complete opposite way of their impulse.

This one might be a stretch and more a consequence of him being smashed than anything else, but the way that JJ acts so excited and carefree at the beginning of this scene just screams reaction formation to me. He should be acting super dejected because that's the behavior that would match the internal emotion, but nope. He's making jokes and brushing off Kie and Pope's frustrations like they're nothing (at least to a certain point). Maybe this is just me, but even when I imagine him buying all the shit and stringing up the lights, I imagine that he's doing it "happily" as a way to convince himself that everything's fine and that he's living the life.

It's also likely that there's just some plain old denial going on here as well, which contributes to the whole "push every emotion down and everything will be fine" mentality that he definitely seems to portray as the scene progresses.

Either way, I feel like the irony in the way that JJ is acting makes the scene so chilling and unsettling, because we know that he is hurting so badly right now, but he's all smiles. And once again, this could be the alcohol making him act like this, rather than a defense mechanism, but why not a combination of the two?

He's literally just so tired/the hot tub is a metaphor dude

Every single explanation really just makes this scene even more depressing jesus christ

But yeah this last one isn't a defense (but it could potentially be considered a coping mechanism?? i really don't know), it's just the fact that in this moment, on top of all these other reasons for why he does what he does, I think he's also just fucking tired of being poor. And even more tired of being a Maybank.

This is a frustration of JJ's that we do see crop up consistently throughout the season, as he's usually the first one to bring up any wealth discrepancies and seems to be hyperaware of his incredibly low status on the island, even more so than the other low income Pogues. And more specifically in the context of 1x07, this idea is definitely salient in light of all the shit they've gone through to try to get the gold pawned off, and then later when JJ screams at Luke for giving him "nothing but a shitty life".

Along with his more personal insecurities weighing down on him throughout the day, he also has to grapple with the fact that the reason why he and the rest of the Pogues have already had to deal with so much shit is because of money. They've never experienced the ease that money can provide, and right about now, that ease sounds really nice to JJ.

I mean, it's a goddamn hot tub, the pinnacle of relaxation and luxurious ease. What a perfectly symbolic thing for JJ to gift to himself and his friends (family) in light of such a shitty, harrowing day.

One more thing about him just wanting to experience some luxury for once in his life: I adore how this is the only scene (i think in the entire series?) where he's not wearing his signature shark tooth necklace. And he's swapped it out for a fancy gold necklace instead, which is even further evidence for him trying to “try on” a different lifestyle and at least momentarily detach from the tribulations of his own life as a Pogue and as a Maybank.

Some quick color theory analysis that might be complete bullshit

This is just something that I noticed once, and ever since that rewatch (idek what number it was) I haven't been able to unsee it, so I just have to mention it even if some of it is a tad bit contrived.

So the lights in and around the hot tub are constantly shifting through blue, green, and red in this scene, and since obx actually despises continuity, it's hard to say that there's distinct color theory going on throughout the entire scene. BUT in one particular segment, I'd argue that either by coincidence or by some lighting person making a good call, the colors actually do line up pretty well with the emotions that JJ is expressing.

Broad strokes: I think blue symbolizes sad vulnerability, red symbolizes angry vulnerability, and green is just more of a transitional color between the two. (all of these gifs are from @aceofwhump btw!!)

So here you can see the lights fading from green to blue as JJ's walls come down. He seems unable to deflect away from his sadness anymore, and as soon as Kie offers him comfort, he just lets himself completely fall into it. Yes, the light fades again into red once Kie embraces him but uhhhhh can we just ignore that please it doesn't fit into my agenda and it also switches pretty quickly (jarringly) once they cut to the next angle

And then here, on this longer shot of JJ just crying and holding onto Kie, the lights are mostly blue, which reflects his most vulnerable, dejected emotions pouring through.

But when he shifts from pure sadness to express more of his anger and frustration with Luke, the lights have very obviously shifted to a pretty stark red.

And then the lights shift one more time from red to blue as JJ returns to a less angry, more sad kind of vulnerability, this time being comforted by both Kie and Pope.

Does all of it fit? No. Do I care that much? Obviously not. The main part that I thought was cool and potentially intentional is the red lighting in the third gif, and then I just based everything else around that particular moment.

(once again, i know so many people have said so many amazing things about this scene, so i hope that even just one part of this was original!!)

((if you read all of this you're the best 🥰 i think we're finally done with 1x07 oh my god i never thought i'd say it but i am sick of that episode and i will not be watching it again for at least.....a couple of weeks))

previous post // next post

#sof thinks too much about obx #jj maybank #obx s1 #obx season 1 #outer banks #rudy pankow #kiara carrera #john b routledge #the pogues #pope heyward

[jeremy-queere]

Oh wow - I just realized I should be advertising these here.

So, a friend Venus (aka V aka @nyx-bait) and I have been roleplaying for several years now. I got permission to post our RP logs on ao3 for archival purposes. But if anyone else is interested, it is Good Readin'.

The plot is a crossover between Be More Chill and a mobile game called Uta no Prince-sama - a rhythm game about Japanese pop idols. We wrote a scene of Jeremy meeting Ai, an android created to be an idol, at one of Ai's group's internationally-touring concerts. We weren't sure if they would get along or not.

But... they turned out to have the best chemistry of any couple I've ever written. So we kept writing. And writing. And writing some more.

The first chapter of the first fic about these two has an explanation on how to read roleplay logs if you're unfamiliar, as well as clarifying expectations.

For the most part, we've written Jeremy/Ai in that original universe discussed above. But we've also messed around with some AUs, including "Jeremy, an undergrad exchange student working as an intern, comes across Ai in his early-development stage as an AI" (coming soon) and "Ai's creators want to investigate this illicit tech on the market, sending Ai undercover as a high schooler in New Jersey to catch Jeremy, fully SQUIPped and spreading the pills as quickly as he can."

For those of you who enjoy my writing of Jeremy, Michael, and the SQUIP, I encourage you to check out "Is It Weird to Date the Evil Robotyrant in a Nerd's Body." (Venus is solely responsible for these great titles.) Like most RP logs, it's an unfinished story. But like I wrote in the intro notes, I really think it's worth reading for some fun asshole brainwashed Jeremy, undercover detective Ai, and SQUIP-truther Michael. Here's a taste:

Pay attention, the SQUIP snaps.

Jeremy takes a shaky breath and tears his gaze away from the guy he's been staring at intermittently for the last ten minutes of homeroom. It's not his fault, he thinks. That bright blue hair would capture anyone's attention. It's a good thing, too. Jeremy is relieved at anything that gets the school's focus off of him. What are the odds that this random high school in Newark would get two brand-new transfer students on the same day? Pretty low, Jeremy figures. It's even weirder that they'd both be drop-dead hot. 

Jeremy can think that about himself now. It's not even an ego thing. It's an objective fact. The SQUIP has gone through every square inch of Jeremy's physical appearance, restructuring it from the bottom up and eliminating as many imperfections as is physically possible. Jeremy's hair is conditioned and gelled, his skin blemish-free, and the SQUIP gives him a little shock whenever he smiles crookedly. He's been trained to give a movie-star smile instead, one that shows off his bright white teeth. 

This other student, though? He definitely doesn't have a SQUIP or they would have synced up the moment the guy stepped into the classroom. Either he was born with those good looks or he's got some amazing beauty-routine tricks up his sleeve. He's not even basking in the attention that he's earned, either. His thick lashes are brushing heavily against his cheek with every blink, his chin resting on a hand as he watches the teacher at the front of the classroom. He scans the room every now and again, and he's definitely locked eyes with Jeremy at least once. The SQUIP had Jeremy tilt his head with a devilish little smile instead of averting his eyes with a blush like he was inclined to do. It's a social faux pas to keep staring, but... damn.

Jeremy is sure it's the bright blue hair cascading down on one side of the guy's head with all the unchecked wild beauty of a waterfall that keeps distracting him. What else could it be?

Stand up and wave. Offer a tentative smile, but keep your back straight and your shoulders back so you look confident. The SQUIP's order seems to come out of nowhere, but Jeremy knows better than to question it. He obeys immediately, actually tuning in to the teacher as he stands. 

"And our other transfer, Ai Mikaze," the teacher is saying with a gesture at the hot guy.

Sit, the SQUIP says. Like a dog hearing a command, Jeremy sits. He almost turns his head to look at Ai again, but his neck doesn't turn like he expects it to. The girl beside you is interested in you already and she's a valuable social contact here. Think of her like the Newark version of Jenna Rolan. Remember Jenna? You're going to want to sleep with her. Once upon a time, Jeremy would have gotten flustered at hearing the SQUIP say that. Now it just feels routine. Initiate meet-cute flirt protocol. 

Make eye contact fleetingly, give her a cocky smile when he catches her staring, drop his pencil at the SQUIP's command, brush up against her hand when she reaches to pick it up for him. Yeah, he knows the drill. It's as easy as breathing nowadays and twice as boring.

Jeremy, the SQUIP says in irritation. He blinks at Ai dumbly before he remembers that if he's looking at Ai, he's not looking at the new girl. Ugh. He's somehow still so bad at this.

#be more chill #uta no prince sama #utapri #mikaze ai #be more chill fanfiction #squip #i'll probably wind up reblogging this for self promotion a few times. also for venus promotion lol

[inutaffy]

could you maybe tell me about the various byler gates ? when you have the time ?

yeah sure!

so there were a bunch of theories after vol1 drop (we didn't call them gates then) and after vol2 they all started to get fleshed out and with the joke of "watergate" made by dustin (and vecna opening all those gates) we just kinda adopted it for different theories for season 5 or analysis about byler or season 4

scriptgate: this is the non show related one. so 8flix is a site that like gives scripts to people/public (film students use it etc) and there was a gofundme to donate to 8flix and like you would get your email signed up on the list and then the stranger things script sent you. the first one was episode 8 (vol2) basically it was supposed to come early august. like august 3rd or something i do not remember exactly but nick (8flix guy) got a lot more people on his email list than ever, and he wanted to do it one by one rather than a big release so we waited like 3 days or so (THIS TIME PERIOD IS SO ICONIC HONESTLY HILARIOUS SO MANY MUTUALS MADE.) there was like people drinking sangrias, i made a pizza, people were making crafts in the tag, it was a big sleepover. very fun, each time it got delayed it was funnier and funnier 😭. anyways we finally got the scripts (but at what cost) and they were so fuckinf depressing there was not a dry eye in the house. will said "i hate who i am" and nancy said "jonathan who?" it was terrible. and a couple days later stranger writers basically implied they were fake. like they were fake scripts. AND THEN EVERYONE TURNED ON NICK. it was a big thing but basically he was saying they weren't fake, and there's 2 big theories: that either he had very early scripts or just a bad source. anyways netflix said he could keep posting them as long as it wasn't revealing anything that wasn't already known (spoilers for season 5 i guess) (worth noting that when nick got his acc hacked on twitter "he" said shit like he was gonna name his source and 2 actors had confirmed the scripts. he was hacked so ignore this. i believe him at least)

letter gate: theory that mike has written letters to will while he was gone but never sent them, also most people believe that he kept said letter in his pocket in the custom blue shirt he wore throughout season 4

pocket gate: finn mentioned this in the hair chair before the st costume designers said this but, they made him a custom shirt (the iconic one for season 4.) few things to know! the pocket opens sideways, it looks like there could be something in it (because it never creases), the costume designers used triangle imagery on robin because of its meaning to the queer community and the pocket is a blue square with a grey triangle, and the pocket was mostly pointing towards will the entire season, will was always on mikes left! very few times was it pointing towards anyone else

breathgate: so i THINK this gate is about mike and max paralelling/lumax+byler endgame secured. so when mike saw the painting in the scripts that the stranger writers twt released it said "his breath catches" and when max was asked by lucas if she wanted to go to a movie friday it said "her breath catches." this could also be about how byler... breathed in sync when they were out in the field in the ending scene. or it could be about that very deep breath mike took when he was looking at will when they were in the van!

bald mike wheeler: i don't wanna talk about it <- traumatized 😶 KIDDING anyways so people basically edited this pic of mike in the hell fire outfit as bald and started creating a "cult" out of it and making their mutuals and friends worship bald mike. byler tag chaos obvi. my mutual rori sent like 20 images in my inbox. i was frightened.

matt duffers basement: ok so someone was pretending to be matt duffer on tumblr and made an "official" account and idk how really but people started claiming he was locking him in his basement and people started making a joke out of it and the person running the account played along too lmao. it was a sleepover in there

twilightgate: basically people editing mike and will's faces on edward and bella . don't miss that era .

wormgate: OK THIS COULD EITHER BE ABOUT THE TIME PERIOD WERE PEOPLE PUT MIKE AND WILL'S FACES ON WORMS OR ITS ABOUT MIKE OR WILL ASKING THE OTHER "would you still love me if i was a worm" i think it's the former tho

mikhailgate+background guy gate+wills love interest gate: they're all connected im sorry. so mikhail is enzo/dmitri's son, and people started theorizing saying mikhail was going to make an apperance in hawkins i forgot the logistics of it, but basically he's boris from the goldfinch but like. stranger things. so he looks like mike but more russian LMAO. i forgot the- willhail! that was the ship name! basically so mike could be a jealous bitch they made up an entire character! there was fanfic and fanart, people were serious. background guy, were basically taking a bunch of extras and making characters around them. like that dude with "hell" on his shirt i think his name was brett, there was fanart of him ! and then the goth girl that looks similar to eden was el's gf apparently! those 2 are most prominent i forgot the others. and will's love interest was just all of this. people would even take people from other media. like i saw one that had miguel from cobra kai (apparently argyles cousin 💀)

birthdaygate/memory gate: so this one i don't keep up with because i don't like it. i know what it's about though! so will's birthday is mar 22nd and people in the pre vol2 era thought his bday was gonna get addressed in vol2 but it wasn't so now there's a big conspiracy that it's going to have a bigger play out in s5 (like him blowing up at everyone /mike etc) but some people think it's because vecna can... steal memories. this claim is backed up by the lyric "let me steal this moment from you now" from running up that hill. someone can explain this gate better than me

babygirl gate: someone made a tweet that made it to tumblr basically saying will was rubbing his back whispering babygirl in mikes ear so he could say i love you to el/his girlfriend. which sparked people to make will's quotes to mike say babygirl instead of mike(his name.)

decedants gate: is just like twilight gate. i forgor if mike is mal and will is ben. i think that's right. yeah. it was cool!! comparing byler to their relationship!! about how mal chose to be with ben because he makes her happy!

playlistgate: mike has a very queer coded playlist, promiently "smalltown boy" by bronski beat. it's a song about running away/leaving. this could also be about finn's playlist called "drive" which could be a playlist for mike (it's known that he makes playlists for his characters.) or this could be about (tender emotional music) and how the stranger things sound track proves byler endgame! or about how spotify /st took off a bunch of peoples playlists (some songs off mike and maybe will's too i think.) im not Exactly sure what this one is about.

flickergate: !!!!!!! MY FAV!!!!! season 5 theory mike and will go to the upside down and kiss in the wheelers garage! REMEMBER HOW MIKES GARAGE LIGHT FLICKERED AS WILL LEFT? byler kiss secured! that "it was a 7. the demogorgon, it got me." WAS THEIR FIRST REAL ONSCREEN CONVERSATION! also where everything went wrong, and immense forshadowing. any 7 is a byler number. also the upside down is stuck on nov 6 (day will went missing) so they would technically kiss on that day. a lot smarter person can explain this one.

salt lamp gate: basically a pic of mike licking a salt lamp and people in the byler tag talking about licking their salt lamps . i don't know what prompted this

gridgate: so duffers posted this story boarding grid (blank) back in like end of august/september. and then updated it but it was BLURRED. they blurred it. fucking tease. so people started to unblur it and read what it says but u couldn't make out anything really. and something we thought was a drawing was a pen holder. upsetting. what the hell. they were making fun of us. anyways we were insane for that.

things i'm not smart enough to cover or idk what they're about: 8:15 gate, ikea gate, google maps gate, mjgate, white rabbit gate

anyone feel free to add on!/tell me anything i missed!

#lord that was a lot sorry 😭 #byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #add on if u want to help me out oajdoajdoak

[intheorangebedroom]

So I want to ask you:

- how do you decide what goes into the story and what won't make it into the final draft?

- do you have other stories in you for these two, like Roadtrippin'?

- you wrote a pretty detailed backstory for Frankie but you keep her past more private. Is that intentional? She is a more closed person so we only get glimpses of her. Will you write an extended history about her?

Thank you for the new chapter, I think I'll read it six more times this weekend!

Hey there bestie. Thank you so much for this ask 🥰 I'm afraid I'm going to rumble. Grab a drink 😬

How do I decide what goes in and what doesn't make it. Like so:

Seriously, I think it's down to my lack of self-confidence... I've had the story outlined since I started, with some major ideas/concepts and events I want to develop and insist on. Some elements are secondary, like the Millers' backstory for instance (I have it down to their parents' jobs and how they met...) so I just pepper some clues along the way (the picture of the little girl in Will's office seems innocuous enough, but that little girl is the very reason why he's so keen on Reader). I would love to develop all of it, but I'm not confident enough with my English, my story telling abilities, the chapters would reach 10k words and I'm afraid it would just bore the hell out of everybody. But I loved writing that random HC so much...

Sometimes, it's also quite simply because it imbalances the whole chapter. I had three extra paragraphs of pure Tom hatred for Shuffle Your Feet and I had to reason myself. "Ok, you hate the guy, I think every one gets it" 😂

Do I have other stories in me for these two

Well... This depends on how the story ends, right? If they get a happy ending or not.... I have approx a million and some of them are already written

The real question is, do I have anything else??? 😂 Sometimes I think I just had this one, and after that, I'll stop writing (it scares me and makes me sad, I'd very much like to keep going).

Will I write an extended story for our Reader

ARGH I'm dying to!!!!! I've got nothing against the reader insert/blank slate format, to each his own, but it's not for me, I'd rather read a story with a defined Reader and I can't, for the life of me, write something with a character I don't know. I'm not that good.

But I'm so new at writing fanfic, and not confident enough to go "Here, she's an OFC." I'm afraid it would turn people off (and well, I'll admit I like it when people read the words I sweat over for weeks...). But the more I progress, the more I feel like I'm betraying her by denying her this OFC status (I'm nuts).

I've got a thorough backstory for her. Soooooo thorough... She even has a name. (Writing that fight without having Rosie say her name was so difficult, don't you use the other person's name when you argue with them??? And oh! How I am DYING to have Frankie say it... you've no idea.)

When I think of her, I imagine her at 15-year-old, with her carpenter jeans, her black Doc Marten's, and her beat up backpack, stepping into the teachers' room after lunch to pick an American pen pal. This was extracurricular, she didn't really have too, she was a good student and didn't need the extra points... But this day, sitting alone in her high school cafeteria, she thought "ok, fuck loneliness, I'm gonna prove myself I can make a friend."

So she gathered her strength and when her teacher handed her the tray of Bristol cards with the students' information, she picked one randomly. A young, stunningly beautiful, dizzyingly confident brunette in a stapled little square photo smiled at her as she read "Rosie Muñoz, 15 ans, New York City, Etats-Unis" and she felt an instant pull toward this bright sun. She thought there was no way in hell such a cool looking girl would write her back, let alone like her, yet she still chanced it.

But Rosie did write back. And she dragged her out of her loneliness. Showed her that her love could, in fact, be reciprocated.

And then, Rosie took her to that party, where she would meet Frankie. Who would alter the course of her life, and set her inner world ablaze.

Just because of a lonely meal, and a small, rectangular Bristol card.

Thank you so, so much for this ask, I'm sorry that I am incapable of brevity. I hope that at least, I answered all your questions 🧡

#pleased to meet you #pleased to meet you asks #people are the nicest i tell you #the pilot™️

[hullosweetpea]

hello friend!!! for your plot bunnies list, 1 and/or 22 please!!! 💛

how about both!

1.) baby stobin series ❤️

baby stobin, my beloved 🥺. this is just a series of one-shots based on my stobin month prompt “birthday” wherein stobin meet at age six and become the cutest bffs. in a perfect world, i work on this whenever and just surprise drop stobin moments. i just have a lot of emotions of stobin going through the growing pains of childhood 🥹I’ve being going back and forth on if i would write the series to overlap with the show or stop where s1 starts. The current one i’m working on is middle school stobin, so here’s a snippy snippy:

Steve watches Robin ride up the sidewalk of Hawkins Middle School. “Robbie, over here!”

She coasts to the bike rack —barely stops her bike in a slot— and tackles Steve in a hug. “I missed you, Stevie!” 

“I wanted to call, but my Mom wouldn’t let me.” Steve pushes Robin off of him and stands. He holds a hand out to her. “Come on, I want to show you all the cool stuff.” He pushes through the front doors and the student body is a mass of limbs. A large banner that reads “Welcome Back!” hangs above the hallway. Steve shoulders his way through the crowd and stops at a wall of lockers. “This one is mine.” He spins the lock and opens the door. “Look, I’ve already put our pictures up.” He points to a row of photo booth film. “Your locker’s going to be in the sixth grade hallway.” 

“Slow down! I’ve barely got in a word and I haven’t seen you since the end of July.” Robin places her hands on Steve’s shoulders. She frowns and tilts her head from side-to-side. “Still, tragically, 30% hair and 70% dingus.” 

Steve laughs and bumps his shoulder against hers. “So are you.” 

Robin blinks and squishes Steve’s face between her hands. “When did you get braces?” 

Steve feels his face flush. “Around the middle of August. I can’t eat gummy worms now.” He pouts. 

“No! Who’s going to eat my green gummy worms now?” Robin shuts Steve’s locker and pulls a folded paper square from her pocket. “Can you help me find Mr. Clarke’s room? He’s my home room.” 

22.) TikTok Stobin

So this is v much just an idea that was written down, but this one is based on a TikTok that was shared in the server a hot minute ago and I would have to track it down. It shows a woman knitting and she talks about how she can hear her apartment neighbor through their shared walls and he tells all his dates the same really cute story about himself and his grandma. and then it cuts to like a year later, and the woman is knitting something else and she tells the story about how she left her window open that looks out into the complex’s hallway and she totally flashes her neighbor and his date and she’s just like “what’s the appropriate apology for that” and the whole thing is v stobin coded.

send me a number between 2-40 and i’ll tell you about a stranger things prompt

#ask game #thank you lali #stobin best friends ❤️

[sparkthespork]

I had a dream that Season 3 premiered last night

The episode was almost exclusively about Misty and Shauna, with us rarely seeing the other characters. Also, I don’t think any of the teen timeline was shown, or I just forgot it.

It just went back and forth the whole time between Shauna reconnecting with some old friend, and Misty on a date with Walter that wasn’t going great. Shauna’s friend was this short, incredibly cheerful woman who looked and sounded a lot like that lady from the Good Place mail room if you’ve seen that. Something was said about the two being besties when they were really little, like elementary school, and then drifting apart.

Meanwhile Misty and Walter were showing each other how they clean their respective houses. It started at Misty’s house, where her method of cleaning seemed mostly normal until she pulled out this strange orange chemical that Walter got really excited about, exclaiming that he used something similar. So then they went to Walter’s house where his supposed “similar” chemical was also orange but smelled dreadful. He explained that the smell was because it was made from deadly nightshade, and he was trying to sell Misty on it but she just could not go near it. Also, all of Walter’s cleaning supplies were like vacuum sealed or something (perhaps due to the smell?) and they had to use this wooden contraption of his own invention to get the caps off. Eventually they decided to give up on cleaning and Walter started dancing in the living room.

The whole time it was cutting back and forth between this and Shauna with her friend, where they were in some office space reviewing documents. I think the friend was supposed to be a lawyer or some other kind of advisor helping Shauna out? Taissa also made a brief appearance in the office at some point so maybe it had to do with her. Anyway, I don’t really remember what they were doing except that they would pause a lot to reminisce about elementary school. It became increasingly clear that this friend still thought of Shauna as her wholesome little kid self, even though she knew about the crash and surviving in the wilderness, it didn’t seem to occur to her that that’d affect Shauna at all. I don’t think she knew about her having an affair with or killing Adam. In the last scene where we saw them, they were racing to catch a bus and I can’t tell you why.

The episode ended with a flashback to when Misty was 10-ish and in school. All of the students were taking turns bringing home this plain white apron that was divided into squares. They’d each decorate their square with fabric markers and at the end it was going to be given to the teacher. So Misty was the last one to bring it home and got to officially gift it to the teacher, which she was super happy about until the whole class saw her square, where she’d written a bunch of vague disturbing words (like I remember “chaos” was one) and drawn this creepy man sort of lying down in a void. The entire class started freaking out and saying Misty ruined the present. And while the teacher was trying to calm them down (she was surprisingly cool about the whole thing) it ominously cut to a bulletin board with a bunch of student work on it where Misty had written similar words.

What’s funny is that dream me was very captivated by this episode but the second I woke up my first thought was “Oh thank GOD that wasn’t real!”

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets season 3 #yellowjackets misty #misty quigley #yellowjackets shauna #shauna shipman #shauna sadecki #yellowjackets taissa #taissa turner #yellowjackets walter #walter tattersall

[hannahshattuck]

Normalcy is Overrated

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Rating: Mature

Square: August Adoptable - Alpha/Alpha Relationship (Replacing Square B5 - AU: Reincarnation)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Age Difference, Teacher-Student Relationship, Bucky is 18 at first and Steve is 32, later Bucky is 21 and Steve is 35, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Alpha Relationship, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Student Bucky Barnes, College, Professor Steve Rogers, Violence, Domestic Violence, George Barnes is Not a Good Father

Summary: Bucky comes out to his parents saying he liked Alphas, as an Alpha himself. His father doesn't take it well but luckily there's a certain professor who steps up.

Written for @allcapsbingo​ All Caps Bingo Masterlist

Read on Ao3

Bucky took a deep breath before he walked into his Art History class. He was halfway through the semester and he wished someone had warned him about his professor before he booked the class. Professor Rogers not only had the body of a Greek god, but the Alpha cared for all his students regardless of their designation. Bucky has professors who treat the Omega and Beta students differently than the Alphas and it irks Bucky. Professor Roger though? He pushes all his students equally which only makes Bucky’s heart swell in admiration.

Bucky’s known he’s liked Alphas since his junior year of highschool and as an Alpha himself, he hasn’t told anyone since Alpha/Alpha relationships are very rare. They’re not unheard of but those kinds of relationships are definitely frowned upon. According to some, Alpha/Alpha relationships aren’t fulfilling as Alpha/Omega relationships since, when an Alpha goes into rut, the presence of an Omega will abate rut symptoms. Bucky hasn’t told his parents since they share this view but science has since proved that the intensity of rut or heat does not depend on one’s partner.

“Good afternoon, James!” Professor Rogers said as Bucky walked into class. Bucky smiled as he took his seat. He was always one of the first students to show up since Art History was Bucky’s first of the day. “How’s college going?”

“It’s going.” Bucky stated. “It's a little difficult being on my own for the first time but it’s going.”

“How are your parents doing with their only child away at college?” The first day of classes, Professor Rogers had all the students go around and say a bit about themselves and Bucky shared he has no siblings. 

“They’re…okay.” Bucky’s relationship with his parents is strained, at best. With their views on unorthodox relationships, Bucky’s had a hard time being himself around them. They keep asking if he’s found a nice Omega yet, even though he’s just started college. He wants to scream he likes Alphas every time he’s asked.

Professor Rogers walked over to Bucky’s table. The room was set up with long tables that held four students and were wide enough for the big papers art students used for their projects. Bucky wasn’t very artsy so he would never need that much space. The younger Alpha sat at the back table and Professor Rogers leaned against the table in front of Bucky with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Strained relationship?”

Bucky nodded and looked down at his fiddling hands. “You could say that.”

Professor Rogers hummed, “I have a strained relationship with my father after he left my mom and I when I was twelve. He decided he wanted a relationship with me within the last year.” The older Alpha chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to trauma dump, James.”

“Bucky, call me Bucky.” The younger Alpha smiled up through his eyelashes and hoped his cheeks weren’t red. There was a look in Professor Rogers' eyes that made Bucky’s stomach swoop. The professor cleared his throat as he nodded.

“A-alright. Sounds good, Bucky.” The way he said Bucky’s name made the younger Alpha’s stomach swoop harder. 

Other students filed in which broke whatever trance the two Alpha’s were in. Professor Rogers went back to the front of the room and pulled up his PowerPoint for the lecture. Bucky shifted in his seat a bit and hoped his scent blockers were doing their job. Once everyone was in their seats, Professor Rogers clapped his hands together and welcomed everyone.

“I hope you all have had a good day so far. Today we’re going to talk about Romanticism and…” Bucky tuned out the rest of the introduction and just watched Professor Rogers in his element. He loves teaching and loves art and combining those two loves showed in every wave of his hands. Bucky picked up his pen ready to take notes as the PowerPoint changed slides.

 _________________

Finals were in two weeks and Bucky was stressed. It seemed like all his classes had assignments due the same days and his professors gave quiz after quiz. It also didn’t help that Bucky's parents kept asking if he was in a relationship with an Omega. He decided to go home the weekend before finals as a way to recharge before he was going to be studying non stop during the next week. Bucky also decided this was when he was going to tell his parents he likes Alphas since he’d be spending his four weeks of winter break at home after finals. “James! Oh baby I’m so glad you’re home!” His mother, Winnifred, crushed him in a hug and kissed all over his face. “Come in! Your father is watching the game.” No matter how many times Bucky asked his parents to call him ‘Bucky’ they never did, using the excuse that it wasn’t his “proper” name. Bucky’s father, George, was always watching something in the living room. He was the type of Alpha who believed Omega’s were responsible for housework and that gave him the excuse to just laze around. Throughout Bucky’s childhood, George would yell for Winnifred to bring him another beer while he never got up from his spot on the couch. The only time Bucky ever saw him not in “his spot” was when his dad would be at work.

“Hi, Dad.” Bucky said as he rounded the corner into the living room. Sure enough his father was watching a football game and drinking a beer.

“Son.” George Barnes was a man of few words. Bucky sat down on the other side of the couch trying not to make it obvious he was putting space between them.

“How’ve you been?”

George hummed without taking his eyes off the game. Bucky nodded and settled into the couch. He stared at the TV but wasn’t actually watching the game. He was trying to think of when the best time would be to tell his parents. Before dinner? During? After? Maybe tomorrow morning after everyone’s had a good night’s sleep?

“Winnifred, he’s an Alpha. Leave him alone.” Bucky flinched as George’s yelling brought him back. “James doesn’t need to help you at all. He ain’t an Omega.” Bucky realized his mother was asking for help with dinner. 

“It’s okay. I can help Mom.” Bucky started to stand up from the couch but George’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Son, once you get yourself an Omega you’ll learn very quickly that it’s best to just let them be. They say they’ll want help but they don’t actually want it. They need to be put in their place which is the kitchen when they’re not cleaning the house.” Hearing those words come from his father made Bucky’s blood boil. Bucky believed it didn’t matter one’s designation, everyone has the ability to do their part even if it’s just helping your family.

“Dinner’s ready.” Winnifred said as she set the last things on the table for dinner. Bucky decided then that he was going to tell his parents he didn’t want a relationship with an Omega.

The three Barnes members ate dinner in silence until George cleared his throat. “Any Omegas caught your eye, Son?”

Bucky tensed in his seat, “Um, well. Right now I’m just focusing on my classes. Finals start this coming week so those are on my mind right now.”

“But, Son, what about your ruts? I bet you’ve had a pretty Omega help you through those.” Bucky’s grip on his fork tightened. Yes, he’s had his ruts but it’s just been him getting himself through them. His college has two buildings, one for Alphas and one for Omegas, where they can go for their rut or heat. Betas are lucky in the way they don’t have ruts or heats but they do have the ability to help their partner through whichever. 

“George. Let’s not have this conversation over dinner please.” Winnifred pleaded.

“I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“This is an inappropriate topic for dinner.”

George glared at Winnifred, “If I want to know if my son has found himself a bitch to help him during a hard time, I will dammit!”

Bucky’s parents continued to argue and Bucky just sat there. He couldn’t believe his parents were essentially arguing about his sex life. His father kept saying “Omega this” and “Omega that”. It was really pissing him off. His mother kept saying Bucky would find an Omega when he was ready. His father was saying how the sooner Bucky found an Omega the sooner he could train them to his preferences and-

“I didn’t have an Omega help me through my rut, okay!” His parents silenced but his outburst gave Bucky the confidence to keep going. “As a matter of fact, I don’t like Omegas. Not romantically. I like Alphas. I want to be held down by an Alpha. I want an Alpha to help me through my rut and I want to help them through theirs. I hate that you two keep trying to force me into a relationship when I just started college! And if you must know,” Bucky stood and glared at his father, “I went through my rut alone! By myself. I even shoved a dildo up my ass imagining it was an Alpha.” George stood and what he did next shocked Bucky.

“GEORGE!” Winnifred screamed.

Bucky’s vision blurred. It took him a moment to realize his father just hit him. A punch to his temple. George started hurling insults and dining ware at Bucky. Bucky tried to get away but tripped over the leg of a chair and twisted his ankle. He fell and his hands landed in a pile of broken glass, the little pieces impaling his palms. Bucky tried to get to the front door to leave but something hit him in the back of the head. Glass fell from around his shoulders and it was then when Bucky realized his father hurled a glass at his head. Bucky managed to get out of the house, get his car keys out of his pocket, unlock his car and get in. The front passenger side window shattered and a rock landed on the seat, his father yelling more insults. He started the car, put it in drive, and pulled away from his parents house. 

Tears started to fall from Bucky's eyes and he quickly wiped them away, wincing as the back of his hand connected with the cuts on his face. He didn’t anticipate his father reacting like that. He knew his parents wouldn’t react well but this? This? 

A sob escaped Bucky’s mouth as tears fell uncontrollably down his cheeks. His hands hurt. His head hurt. His ankle hurt. Every part of his body, soul, and mind hurt. Bucky’s vision started to darken at the edges and he knew he needed to stop driving otherwise he’ll end up in a wreck. He pulled into an empty parking lot and struggled to put the car in park due to the pain in his hands. He managed to shift the gear and then tried to get his phone out of his pocket. It was virtually impossible with the pain in his hands and the blood seeping from the multiple cuts on his palms.

Bucky blinked to clear his vision as he unlocked his phone and went to his contacts. He clicked on the first contact he could see through his slowly darkening vision and put the phone on speaker. His head rolled against the headrest of the seat as the phone rang.

“Bucky?”

“Steve. Help.” Was the last thing he said before everything went black.

 _________________

“...the spelling of words, and their pronunciation. For Greek sculpture, the variation can be seen not only in stylistic trends but also in iconographic choices. A fine bronze mirror with a handle in the form-oh. Hey there.” Steve stopped reading and smiled at the younger man in the hospital bed. Getting the call from Bucky the night before where he only said Steve’s name and ‘help’ scared the Alpha more than anything. Steve’s glad he’s created a great relationship with his students and has felt comfortable sharing his personal cell with his student but never, in his six years of teaching, did Steve ever think he’d find himself in a situation like this.

“Where am I?” Bucky asked horsley. 

“Brooklyn Med. My mom works here.” Steve set the textbook aside and scooted the chair closer to Bucky’s bed. He gently grabbed Bucky’s bandaged right hand. “Bucky. What happened? When I found you, you were covered in blood.” Steve's voice went to a whisper. “I was scared, Honey.” The pet name slipped past Steve’s lips and he winced internally. If Bucky noticed, he didn’t react. Just closed his eyes and a tear slid down his cheek which was gently brushed away by Steve’s thumb. The blond Alpha kept his hand cupping the younger’s cheek.

Bucky shuddered a breath before he spoke, “I told my parents I don’t like Omegas romantically. I like Alphas and my dad didn’t take it well.” Bucky’s voice cracked as he continued. “He punched me and then started throwing stuff. A glass hit the back of my head I think. I know I tripped and fell. Glass cut my hands but I don’t remember getting in my car. I don’t remember calling you. Why can’t I remember? Steve, why can’t I remember” Bucky started panicking which caused the heart monitor to beep rapidly. “Why can’t I remember anything?” 

Steve tried to calm Bucky down as the younger man who thrashed against his hold. When Steve yelled for a nurse, his mom, Sarah, ran in along with two other nurses. The four of them held Bucky down while Sarah administered a sedative. 

“Steve. Steve. I-I…” Bucky repeated as his eyes closed. Steve didn’t let go of the other man’s hand.

“It’s okay, Bucky. I’m here. I’ll be here.” Steve kissed Bucky’s knuckles that were exposed from the bandage. “It’s okay. Just close your eyes, Honey.”

“S’eve.” Bucky said once more as his eyes closed and stayed close. His breathing evened out which calmed Steve’s beating heart. He looked up at his mom who placed a hand on his shoulder.

Sarah smiled at her son before leaning down and placed a kiss on the top of his head. “Is this James?” 

“Bucky, Ma.”

Sarah hummed as she checked the sleeping man’s vitals. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Steven. It seems like this precious boy has been through a lot and you’re not too old to put in time-out.”

Steve smiled at his mother but kept his gaze on Bucky, “Everything will pan out, I hope. I promise I won’t push anything.”

Sarah patted her son’s shoulder before she left the room. She looked over her shoulder with a knowing smile at the two men. Steve admitted to her that he felt a connection with the younger man. There was an ache in his chest every time he saw Bucky, that made Steve want to protect him. Steve knew acting on anything would cause him to lose his job or worse. And now? Steve knew he’d need to be more careful but that wouldn’t stop him from helping the hurt Alpha.

 _________________

Bucky was released from the hospital two weeks later. His professors, thankfully, allowed him to take his finals while he was still in the hospital so the school sent a proctor to the hospital with the tests for Bucky. Sarah provided Bucky with all the test taking snacks and he was thankful for the older woman when she sat with him after her shifts were done just talking with him. 

She told him many stories of Steve when he was a kid and all the trouble he’d end up in. She explained that Steve was smaller than most of the kids in his classes which Bucky found hard to believe. Sarah said it wasn’t until Steve’s sophomore year of high school when his body decided it was tired of being small. He shot up and towered over his classmates and those who picked on Steve before his growth spurt were hoping he didn’t pick on them. Steve explained, when he visited one time, that he kept being respectful to those kids.

“Kill them with kindness.” Steve said.

Sarah and Steve were there when a police officer visited Bucky to get an understanding as to what happened. The officer informed the young Alpha that his father would be arrested for assault which Bucky understood. Once the officer left, Steve pulled Bucky into his arms as the younger one sobbed. The ache in Steve’s chest was stronger after that day.

“So,” Steve started as he helped Bucky pack his stuff the day he was being discharged. “Where are you going to stay?”

Bucky shrugged, “I’m not sure. I might call a friend and see if I could crash at their place for break.”

Steve fidgeting with the zipper on the duffle he bought for Bucky. “Um, if you want, I have a spare room that you could crash in. And I just realized this is inappropriate since I’m your teacher. Well, I was since finals are done. But I won’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’re not in a safe place or comfortable being who you are wherever you end up staying and-”

Bucky cut off Steve’s rambling by pulling him into a kiss. The older Alpha groaned and placed his hands on the younger’s hips pulling him flush against his body. Bucky gripped Steve’s shirt tighter as he felt the ridges of the older Alpha’s body against his. When the need for air became too much, they pulled away and Bucky’s eyes widened in fear.

“Oh my god. Oh. My. God.” Bucky pulled away and started pacing in the small hospital room, “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You…I…I understand if you want to leave and never see me again. I’ll make sure I have no classes near the art building…”

“Bucky.”

“...that way we won’t run into each other. A-And I can talk to my advisor to move all my classes online so there’s no chance of us crossing paths and…”

“Bucky. Stop.”

“...I’ll even stay in my dorm when classes start-”

“Bucky!” Steve cupped the younger man’s face and pulled his gaze to meet Steve’s. “I liked it. Yeah there’s some things we need to work out but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t felt a connection between us since the moment you walked into my class.”

Bucky blushed, “Oh, um, I have too.”

“Good.” Steve chuckled as he placed a kiss on Bucky’s nose. “I’d like it if you stayed with me And, if you do end up switching to online, I’d be honored to support you through that, okay? But right now, let’s get you out of the hospital and figure out where you want to stay for the break.”

Bucky had a dopey smile on his face, “I’d like to stay with you if that’s okay.”

Steve nodded and placed a quick peck on the man’s lips. “It’s very much okay.”

_________________

Bucky moved into Steve’s spare room after being discharged from the hospital. During the break, they went to Bucky’s dorm and got his stuff out of there. Bucky had a single room so he didn’t have to explain to a roommate why his professor was helping him move out. Steve also supported Bucky when the brunet went to his parent’s house and got his stuff out of there. Winnifred tried to get Bucky to stay, but he shook his head without saying anything signally he was closing this chapter of his life. He can see himself creating a relationship with his mother, but there’s no chance of one with his father.

Bucky made the decision that he wanted to continue his degree online. Somehow everyone on campus knew what happened to him and he couldn’t take the sympathetic looks he’d get from students and staff. He talked with his advisor, who understood Bucky’s decision, and helped him make sure everything was in order. The only times Bucky would absolutely need to come on campus would be for labs and advising meetings.

Steve and Bucky met with the Dean of Students, Maria Hill, and explained their relationship. She was disappointed in Steve’s actions and chastised him. But with her being a close friend of the blond’s, Maria explained that she would do her best to keep the board off their backs for the remainder of Bucky’s education. She then informed Bucky that out of all the Alphas to choose from Steve was a good one which made Steve blush. And Bucky totally teased him the rest of the day.

The Alphas relationship blossomed throughout the next two years. With Steve’s unyielding support, Bucky’s going to be able to graduate a year earlier than he anticipated. Steve also helped Bucky through his ruts, and Bucky helped Steve through his. At one point their ruts synced up and it was a good thing Steve lived alone on a big property because they would be all over each in every room. Sarah would drop food off at the doorstep and always left a note telling them to be careful and to call her if they needed anything. 

Now, Bucky was two months away from graduating and being with Steve was the highlight of his life. If he could show high school Bucky that he’d not only be in a relationship with an Alpha but also finishing college earlier, his younger self would laugh. Unfortunately their relationship was leaked and there were some very unhappy board members, but Maria pointed out that both Alphas were consenting adults and nothing happened until Bucky was no longer a student of Steve’s. The board members could disagree with that logic. The two Alphas were happy they had someone in their corner ready to fight for them.

The sound of a key unlocking the front door made Bucky smile. He saved his essay he was working on and set his laptop on the coffee table in front of him. When he went to stand up from the couch, Bucky’s classmate, a corgi puppy they got a month ago that Bucky named Biscuit, tumbled off the couch excited to see her other dad. Bucky picked her up with a chuckle and scratched behind her ears.

“Careful, you goof.” He kissed her head as she yipped. “Yeah, I know. Me too. Let’s go see Daddy.” 

“There’s my babies!” Steve exclaimed as he rounded the corner and threw his shoulder bag on the couch. He pulled Bucky into a hug and spun him around causing the other Alpha to giggle. Biscuit barked in between them wanting attention as well. “Yes, sweet girl. I see you too. Hi.” Steve cooed as he scratched behind her ears and Biscuit gave a look of contentment.

She then squirmed to get out of Bucky’s hold and bolted out the back door which Bucky had opened during the day and went to the grass to do her business. A butterfly flew in front of her and Biscuit yipped as she jumped and tried to get it.

Steve hugged Bucky close and buried his nose in the other Alpha’s neck. Bucky ran his hands up Steve’s back and into his hair. “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s got you so cuddly?”

Steve nipped at Bucky’s neck. “You just smell good.”

Bucky huffed as Steve licked the mating bite on his scent gland, “Steve. Are you going into rut, Baby?”

Steve just hummed as one of his hands moved to the front of Bucky and cupped the younger Alpha’s hardening dick. The older Alpha lapped at Bucky’s scent gland as his hand worked Bucky’s dick to full mast. 

“Mmm. I think. Please, Buck.”

Bucky gently extracted himself from Steve’s arms. “Okay. Okay. Let me get Biscuit and put her in her crate with her toys and text your mom.”

Steve groaned as Bucky moved away from him. “Nooo. Alpha.” The older Alpha whined and made grabby hands which caused Bucky to laugh. He grabbed the puppy and shut the back door. 

“Uh uh. Big guy. You can wait.” Bucky playfully scolded.

Steve flopped on the couch. “No I can’t!”

Bucky looked over his shoulder after he put Biscuit in her crate. “If you behave I’ll let you suck my dick before I fuck you.” Steve stumbled off the cough and threw his clothes off as he ran to their room. Bucky shook his head with a smile and sent a quick text to Sarah letting her know to come get the pup when she can. “What are we going to do with him, Beebee?” The puppy just barked which caused Bucky to chuckle. “Yeah. Guess I should go help him.”

#hannahshattuck writings #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #all caps bingo 2023 #hannahshattuck all caps bingo 2023

[shadowqueen402]

Prim And Proper Origins: Part 15

Part 11 is here:

Part 12 is here:

Part 13 is here:

Part 14 is here:

A month went by and it was now time for the dance. Roy stood in the gymnasium, which was where the dance took place. He was waiting patiently for Esme to show up. The students were dressed properly for this dance and had already met up with their dance partners.

He wore a baggy white long-sleeved shirt, green plaid pants, and black jazz shoes. He scanned the crowd, looking for his dance partner. Just then, a familiar voice grabbed his attention. "Roy! There you are!"

Roy turned and saw Primrose standing there, a smile plastered across her lips. She was donned in a bright pink and white vest over a baggy, elbow-sleeved shirt, a pink plaid kilt, pink knee-lengthed socks with diamond pattern, and black ballet-styled shoes. "How do I look in my outfit?" She asked smoothly. "I wanted to wear this one dress I'd love, but then I noticed that I had to wear this which is so not my style."

Before Roy could reply, his gaze fell on someone approaching him. It was none other than Esme. She looked absolutely beautiful in her outfit. She wore an orange and white jacket over a white square neck shirt, an orange plaid kilt, orange knee-lengthed socks with diamond pattern, and black ballet-styled shoes. Plus, she adorned a pair of gold ball stud earrings.

Roy walked over to Esme, much to Primrose's aggravation. Look at her, acting like she's all that. Primrose bitterly thought. This night was supposed to be perfect. And already, she has to ruin it for me!

"Esme, you look stunning," Roy said with a smile while admiring Esme's outfit. "Orange really does suit you."

"Thanks," Esme replied. "You look amazing as well. Shall we go and dance?" She held out her hand, returning the smile.

"Of course." Roy took Esme's hand and led her to the dancefloor. Scottish music began to play and almost all of the students were dancing along to the rhythm of the music. Everyone except Primrose, that is. She stood in the corner, glaring viciously at Esme who was smiling while dancing with her Roy.

Primrose felt her rage boiling up. She couldn't stand it at all. If I can't have a perfect night with my Roy, then nobody can! She angrily thought. Primrose stormed over to the refreshment table and picked up the punch bowl.

Then, she stormed toward Roy and Esme before proceeding to chuck the punch bowl at Esme. Fruit punch spilled all over Esme, soaking her hair and her outfit. Esme screamed as she felt ice cold punch poured over her.

Some of the punch got on Roy as well, staining his white shirt. Esme's scream got a lot of attention, because a lot of students were staring. They gasped in horror at what Primrose did.

"Primrose, why would you do this!?" Roy demanded, glaring at her. "Do you how expensive these are!? And what did we do to you!?"

Primrose couldn't hold it back any longer. "What did you do to me!?" She repeated in anger. "It was always 'Esme this, Esme that'! You were always fawning over that imperfect man-stealer while I would have given you everything that you asked for!"

"Don't you dare refer to Esme with such a degrading word, Primrose!" Roy warned, his glare still intact.

"Why would you defend her!?" Primrose yelled. "She's probably just using you!"

"I'll have you know that I have been friends with her for a long time!" Roy replied. "She would never use me!"

"She's the reason why this night, that was supposed to be perfect, is ruined!" Primrose scolded. "She got what she deserved! Why would you always take her side!?"

"Because I like her!" Roy scolded back. "Do you have a problem with that, Primrose!?" At this confession, Esme blushed deeply.

"Just you wait, Roy!" Primrose said. "You'll realize that you're making a big mistake!" She turned around and stormed out of the dance.

I don't own Madame Prim.

Roy and Esme belong to me.

#balan wonderworld #fanfic #ocs

[grandhotelabyss]

—Emmet Penney, “Why Climate Nihilists Target Beloved Art”

Penney must be reading my mind. He uses art theorist Boris Groys’s gloss on Kazimir Malevich’s Black Square to show how avant-garde utopianism has come to serve corporatist degrowth nihilism, as evidenced by the iconoclasm of deranged youth, who serve as the ignorant foot soldiers of their wealthy, misanthropic elders, the very ones who run our society.

Except that, unlike Penney, I don’t think Malevich’s dream could have gone any other way than toward this revolution-from-above. Trust the tale, not the teller: the tale, in this case, is pure darkness and nothing, but gridded and rationalized—the truth of The Revolution, behind all its mawkish advertising. 

Anyway, Flaubert said that if the powers that be had read Sentimental Education, the Franco-Prussian War might have been avoided. Increasingly, I feel the same about my novel Portraits and Ashes, written in 2013 and published in 2017, with Malevich’s Black Square on the cover, vis-à-vis the catastrophes awaiting us now.

The novel—which has an almost supernal connection to Groys’s thesis on the avant-garde, as I explain in my essay on the theorist’s Total Art of Stalinism—is about the convergence of a nihilistic death-cult, likely state-sponsored, with avant-garde art. Here is an excerpt about the novel’s resident nihilist-iconoclast-artist and his tie to the regnant powers:

Frank Jobe, then all of thirty-one years old, had crossed the planet on his mission to save art by destroying it as such, as an object that could be held as property or viewed from a distance and appreciated as merely beautiful. He wanted to make art instead a tangible force in the lives of those who encountered it. From behind his mirrored shades, his prematurely white hair waving across his tall forehead in the dry winds of the Hindu Kush, he’d told an interviewer, “They say it’s all just signifiers, man, but what’s the signification of this?” Then, infamously, he’d put his cigarette out in the interviewer’s palm. Behind and above them flickered the anamorphic diagonal of holographic fire that Jobe and his team had projected on the steep slope of a mountain on the Afghan border, an opus commissioned by and assembled under the auspices of several non-governmental organizations for the sake of its “searing commentary on the horrors of international conflict.” Jobe would later boast of his piece’s effects. Warlords of various factions, in crossing the mountain pass, rounded with wide and suspicious eyes the illusionist’s slanted flame until they saw the fifty-foot image of a human skull lambent within it; then they crashed their Jeeps or caravans and ordered their men to open fire on the high flame, momentarily suspending their own hostilities. It was this ambitious work of artistic anti-art, entitled The New Ambassador, that brought Jobe his global notoriety. 

His inscrutable intentions helped his cause as well. He was a man of bombastic rhetoric without being very articulate. “Bourgeois art,” he’d said, “is about something, it’s supposed to remind you of something, and you’re supposed to laugh or cry. Which is bullshit, man. I don’t want to remind you of something, I want to be the thing. I want to be the thing you cry when you remember.” 

Was there any moral or political aspect to this or was it a creed of pure sensation? Surely, said Marxist critics, the purpose of protesting “bourgeois art” was to prepare for the utopic and egalitarian relations among a redeemed humanity that would flourish when the reign of the bourgeoisie was brought to an end by the revolution. Failing that, the purpose of his vital and tangible artwork must have been, as another of Jobe’s critics put it, “to recall the subject to the materiality of existence and its attendant ethical responsibilities to the Other.” Jobe wouldn’t say; sometimes he said contradictory or incoherent things, leaving it to the critics and the curators and the professors and the graduate students to decide. 

“What critical and cultural theories inform your praxis?” an interviewer had asked him in Germany during the opening of his piece, The Marriage of Arbor and Rhizome. For this installation he had planted parallel lines of oak trees at regular intervals in square dirt patches on the ground floor of a gleaming new white and glass gallery in Berlin. In fifty years, the oaks in stately colonnade would overtake the gallery. The branches’ gentle force would lift and prise loose the glass roof until it would fall in a sparkling explosion among the acorns. The roots would ever so slowly swell under the white walls hung with their blank Suprematist canvases until they listed and fell in their turn. Eventually, no one would ever be able to tell that a gallery had been there at all. 

“There are no theories,” Jobe said. “Just praxis. People who write theory are undertaking the praxis of jacking off, which is cool if that’s what you’re into, but I’m into the real thing.”

#emmet penney #art #aesthetics #art theory #boris groys #fiction #creative writing #kazmir malevich #avant-garde

[terrence-silver]

If you could change anything in the show, what would you change? Cobra Kai

Everything?

Wouldn't reduce Johnny Lawrence to dummy, clueless comic relief, for example? I'm not even a huge stan of the character and I still think he deserves far, far better? His relationship with Robby? I'd work on that majorly? That goes without saying to me. Think it is crucial for this man's growth at this point and anything less than that won't be satisfactory.

I'd cease with these 'who's the father of x and y' theories. I think Miguel searching for his dad is more than enough. We don't need more of that. Wanna emulate a soap opera? Okay, fine. Soap operas have so many diverse tropes you can utilize. That isn't soap writing. It is bad, lazy writing, chief. Repetitive. How did a Karate show boil down to this? Should be called Paternity Test Kai.

Something I noticed when watching Cobra Kai Season 4 with a friend is that everyone is so meanspirited to each other for no reason other than, yes again, comic relief, that it is often tiresome and overly snarky. It feels a bit cynical. I'd scrap that entirely or at least reduce it significantly. Where's the tenderness and the heart the movies often had? Why is everyone so godawful?

Redeeming villains --- stop, just stop. Kreese is already here 'feeling sorry' for Johnny out of the blue purely to generate more drama. I love Kreese the same way I love Terry, but for the Jesus Christ, cease making everyone redeemable all of a sudden and just let us have bad guys. Bad guys can be nuanced and complex without being cartoonish or two dimensional if you just bother developing them.

Love triangles and love squares and love polycule pyramids? Eh, it isn't my cup of tea, really? The whole discourse about will they wont they, who's more superior, is it SamRobby or Toryguel or Samiguel or...I don't really see the chemistry with any of them to that major extent and I'm tired of this exhausting, vindictive rivalry running on empty. They all feel a bit like siblings to me, if I'm honest. I'd let these kids be and cease writing them into new situationships.

Okay, but the unusual cringe of the show 'joking' on the subject of Daniel and Johnny being gay and 'boyfriends' time and time again as delivered through the mouths of bigoted characters (like the hockey players...functioning as stand-in's for the writers) instead of, you know, actually having them be gay / bisexual, or at least explore that part of themselves? Am I phrasing this well? It feels so weird.

Same case with the show flaunting its feminism while we barely have a single consistently wholesome teenage female friendship (barely any adult ones too, if we don't count, I don't know Amanda and Carmen?) in the show as of now. We had Aisha's relationship with both Tory and Sam, but guess what --- she's been shoved to the side and practically written out. Who do we have left?

Everyone being confusingly out of character. Examples; An overly snooping Terry with stalker tendencies and infinite resources not knowing what anyone was up to in his local area for literally three decades --- not even by accident. John inviting Terry to help with tournament business revenge for a second time only to get pissed at Terry for doing just that and suddenly growing a sense of honor. Like, what is anyone's motivation anymore? Why is everyone flip-flopping so much? I'd try to be consistent at least, I mean. Doesn't take a genius.

And, I mean, I could write examples and examples of what could use tweaking, if not outright changing (like how all the Sensei, especially the ones deemed a positive influence, seem to neglect their students), to be kind, but here's a small compilation of things that randomly crossed my mind. There's more. Oh, is there ever. So much, in fact, that I can't even remember it all. Generally, I think the fanon's take of the show is much better and far more faithful and loving than the actual canon.

#ask meme #cobra kai #anons asking #admin speaks #detailed answer beneath the cut

[the-planet-ceres]

star student

The second I get home, I collapse into bed, wanting to take a nap but knowing I shouldn’t. I’ve already been slacking off enough; not surprisingly, consistently refusing to do your homework means that you’re going to fail. And nothing ruins your day like your AirPods running out of battery thirty minutes into class so you can’t not pay attention.

Speaking of—thinking of, I guess—I need to charge those.

As I stand and my stomach demands a snack, I slip into the kitchen on ghost feet (do ghosts have feet?), barely glancing at my brother as we brush shoulders. Jack doesn’t flinch at the contact, and when he leaves, I hear the unrestrained thumps of his steps and the snaps as he cracks his knuckles. He doesn’t shrink at his family’s gazes; he’s not the one born with a broken brain that can’t pay attention to anything for more than two seconds. He’s not the one who pretends to be unruly and bratty instead of burnt out with a side of occasional hallucinations.

Of course, nobody cares about that, because nobody knows about that. Besides, the voices in my head are probably just caused by exhaustion anyway; once I slept for three days straight and didn’t hear anything for a week after.

By the time I successfully guess the password to my dad’s computer—which is somehow harder than actually hacking the grading website to make it seem like I don’t have a column of donuts—the Rubik’s cube on the desk has made me shuffle it three different times. As I’m reaching to scramble the little squares again, I hear someone coming. Crap. Guess I’m not postponing the inevitable this time.

Shutting the computer, I dart out and head upstairs at what I hope is a normal pace.

Go back, a tiny voice tells me.

Shut up. I should’ve had more coffee today. I don’t need this right now.

Go back. Show them your computer skills. Redeem yourself.

Since when are you so eloquent?

It goes quiet, replaced by creepy funhouse music that makes me think of black carpet stitched with neon planets.

Determined to at least accomplish something today, I turn on my laptop in search of answers to a math worksheet that has more letters than numbers. The first thing to open is a search reading “cna i sumon a dmeon to raies my graeds,” a remnant of my typical three-in-the-morning frantic races to vomit every single thought in my brain into either Twitter or Google.

I click on a new tab and start copying a problem into the search bar, but I don’t get very far. The funhouse music has faded; now there’s a terrifying chant of Look at it. Look at it. Look at it.

Not going to not going to not going to, I force myself to think. Then: God, I need medicine for this. Maybe I should look that up instead of trying to figure out how big some imaginary circle is.

Of course, because the other entities living in my brain are more powerful than my self-restraint, I end up clicking the Did you mean? on the tab with the demon search and clicking on the first thing that pops up.

It’s some ad for a church asking if I need the light of Jesus.

A bit too late for that if you ask me.

I go back and find something giving instructions on how to make a pentagram out of string, and then it’s one in the morning and I haven’t moved except to sit at dinner and lie through my teeth about starting an online tutoring program. A week ago, I said I would, but then I got distracted by something or other and completely forgot. I’ve written reminders for myself in three different places in the past three seconds, but knowing me, I’ll forget in another two.

Pushing a towel against my door so less light will escape, I manage to set up a ring of candles without setting my carpet on fire. In the middle is some red yarn shaped into a lopsided star; I have zero artistic talent and can’t use a ruler to save my life.

This is ridiculous. If it weren’t for the fact that Jack is probably asleep already, I’d be laughing out loud right now. Of all the things that could be wasting my time right now, I have to pick this one. Well, not me, actually, but another of those voices, commanding me to do it in a tone so harsh my skin is covered in goosebumps.

I pick up a sheet I scrawled a bunch of unintelligible demon chants onto and hold it to a candle, but before I can start reading, all of the tiny flames go out and the temperature in the room drops a solid thirty-ish degrees.

Cursing under my breath, I scrabble for my lighter so I’ll be able to see the way to my bed—my patience for this ran out almost before I started, and I have to be awake in five hours anyway to make it to school on time. As if I actually do anything when I’m there.

Five flicks until the lighter works, and then the dot of fire whooshes out of existence again.

Huh. That’s weird. Shrugging, I stumble over the pile of books that I dumped out to look for a pencil and wave my limbs around like a confused zombie until I trip over the edge of my bed.

When I fall onto the covers, something warm and disturbingly like skin shifts away, and then what feels like a hand is being clapped over my mouth.

“Mmf!” I try to bite at the palm pressing into my lips, but its owner pushes my head back until I’m lying down. When I kick haphazardly, all my legs find is air; my arms flail and smack into something as hard as bone.

“Quiet,” hisses a raspy voice. It’s a bit like one of the ones that I hallucinate sometimes, with the same tone of authority that makes me obey its every command. “I do not want to be discovered. Where is light?”

The hand lifts, and I manage to let out a yelp before it slams back down.

“Scream and I will end you. Where is light?”

This time, I’m too paralyzed by terror to try yelling. “I can turn on the closet light. If we block the door, no one will see from outside.” Yes, being in a smaller space with whatever criminal has somehow made it into my room is a terrible idea, but I don’t want to risk my family coming and getting hurt too.

“Then come. Turn on . . . the closet light.”

The presence shifts to let me stand; as I get to my shaky feet, I grope for the lighter, but it’s gone.

“Over here,” I call softly as I lift the door so it won’t creak. “Go inside.”

A cold breeze washes over me as the intruder enters, making me shiver both from cold and fear. I take a deep breath, worrying that my stupidity might make it my last, then follow, kick a shirt against the door as I close it, and flick the light switch.

And freeze.

At least I have the sense not to scream.

The . . . thing . . . in front of me flashes his needle-sharp teeth, licking his lips with a pair of forked tongues. After a second, he notices my hand scrabbling for the doorknob behind me and his smile—if it can even be called that—morphs into a snarl that makes my legs turn to jelly. I drop my arm and try not to pay attention to the claws on his fingers, the feathery wings sucking all of the light into their blackness, the twisted black horns that could spear me in an instant.

He scratches at the shaggy brown hair they’re jutting out of, and out tumble what look like very tiny bones.

I can feel my face turning green.

“I think it is typical to look a stranger in the eyes when being introduced,” the demon rasps. But even though the intensity of his words makes me fear for my life, I can’t peel my eyes from the scabbed lines running over every exposed inch of his skin or the very threatening knife at his waist.

He could have slit my throat, and nobody would’ve known until morning.

“Girl?”

“Bree,” I mumble. “It’s Bree.” Grandma’s name or not, I refuse to go by Breeshey.

“Bree,” he echoes, pronouncing it more like Blee. “What is it the angels say? Fear not? Or have no fear?”

Enough time passes for it to be obvious that he wants a response, so I shrug and admit, “I don’t know.”

“Ah. Well, it is no matter. Look in my eyes.”

I shut my own, then force them to open and drift upwards past his horrifying mouth. To my surprise, the view isn’t that bad; pupils surrounded by two soft orange rings watch me with something bordering on curiosity. He smiles again, and their corners crinkle.

See? Not that bad.

Actually, scratch that—embedded in his cheeks just below the regular eyes is a pair of smaller blue ones. As I stare at them, they dilate, then twitch and shut.

“What . . . are you?” I ask, my words a shield that keeps him from taking a second step towards me.

“A demon, of course. What kind is unimportant.” His wings close a little as he shifts his balance and knocks a row of hangers off their rack. After a beat, he continues, “My name is,” then lets out a weird gargling noise.

I blink. “What?”

Sighing, he whips out a notepad and pen from who-knows-where and writes Aszksxymysthz. “That is the closest approximation in your tongue. But humans cannot make these sounds, so you may call me . . . Ash.”

“Ash,” I repeat. “So, uh . . . What are you doing here, Ash? Not here to murder me and string up my guts like Christmas decorations, I hope?”

Yeah, let’s give the literal demon ideas, a voice snaps in my brain.

“No. You summoned me for improved academic performance, so that is what I am here to provide.”

As he gets closer and lifts a hand to my face, I sidestep and frown. “So . . . you’re just going to help me? Because I wanted to?” That sounds like something a genie would do, not . . . you.

Ash tilts his head, showing pointy ears as his hair moves, and nods. “Partially, yes.”

Ah, there it is. “What’s the catch?”

“A small thing. Every night at midnight, you must pluck one feather from my wings.”

“Huh? Why? Wouldn’t that hurt you?” Why does it matter?

“I have greater motivations than self-preservation.”

My arms cross of their own volition. “And those are?”

“Unrelated to and thus irrelevant to you. Now, what is there to be done?”

“What do you mean, irrelevant? How do I know you’re not lying?”

His tiny blue eyes open wide, and he repeats more forcefully, “What is there to be done?”

My mouth goes dry, and I’m about to put more distance between us when I realize my back is against the wall. “Well, right now, sleeping. Then school in a few hours. Wait—how are you going to get in? I can’t just walk up with a random demon next to me.”

For a heart-stopping moment, Ash just watches me, and then he’s gone.

“Ash? Wh—”

“Like this,” his voice interrupts. Except—it’s coming out of my mouth. “Your mind is pliable, so I can enter and exit as I wish. Although there do seem to be quite a few vermin here.”

“Vermin?”

“Do you hear things in your head, perhaps?”

Oh. “Um . . . yeah.”

“I can remove them if you would like.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

Then he’s in front of me again, and the permanent undercurrent of whispering in my mind dies.

“Whoa,” I breathe. “Sick.” I’m free.

I’m free.

Ash smiles again, and this time, I don’t shrink from him. “Go sleep. I will find a way to occupy myself.”

As I reach for the knob, I suggest, “Maybe you could start by picking up all those shirts you threw on the floor.”

He grazes me with his wing, and I tense until I hear the lightness in his reply. “I will consider it.”

 ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

 Midterms come around a few months later, and Ash passes me with flying colors. My teachers praise my sudden diligence as I not only finish things early, but get perfect scores. I no longer get angry at myself because I no longer lose focus every ten seconds. My friends seem more relaxed around me now that I’m not constantly asking for their help cheating (which I stopped doing a while ago anyway, when I stopped caring). Mom and Dad start treating me like the faultless second child again, hoping enough rewards will keep this from ending. Only Jack resents this change; he throws himself into his schoolwork even harder, brushing me off when I tell him he’s too smart to be wasting his time studying material he memorized the day it was given.

It stings a little, that me “bettering myself” has put up a wall between us, but I don’t think about it too much.

He’ll come around. He’ll see the good in this.

Even if, like everybody else, he has no idea how it’s happening.

Even if I’ve probably sold my soul or something without even knowing.

 ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

 The morning after a shockingly successful school year ends, I wake up with a weird feeling in my stomach, like it’s being torn open from inside. Great. What a way to start the summer.

But when I stand up and sag under the weight of a back screaming with pain, complaints about food poisoning drain out of my mind.

“Ash? Are you in there?” I whisper. After Mom almost caught him, we agreed that he should possess me while I sleep; sometimes I end up with random aches, but never this bad.

Nobody answers.

“Ash?”

Still no one.

Under the bed, the box where I hide his feathers is empty.

Huh. I guess it makes sense, since I don’t have classes in summer, but a little warning would’ve been nice. I’ve become strangely attached to the demon.

Stretching with a slight wince, I go to the bathroom to shower the last bit of sleepiness away but stop short when I see my reflection.

The pale green of my eyes has darkened to orange, and beneath them is another, smaller pair with light blue irises. Sharp black horns spiral out of my head, and massive wings the same color have sprouted from my back. I bare my teeth; they’re thin and pointy, barely fitting in my mouth.

As I watch in horror, a bright red line runs down my forearm.

I’m about to shriek when the walls melt, giving way to an endless field of fire and hazy smoke set against a crimson sky.

“Ash?” I call again, more frantic. This has to have something to do with him. “What is this place?”

“Your Aszksxymysthz no longer resides here,” a bodiless voice booms. “I have dismissed him.”

“You . . .” Who are you? What are you?

“He mentioned that his motives did not relate to you. But I controlled them, and I have taken an interest in you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I get a glimpse of a vague black shape that I can’t categorize as any horror I’ve ever seen before.

My hands curl into fists. How could I have been so stupid? I should’ve known not to trust a literal demon. “Meaning?”

That horrifying silhouette comes back into my field of vision and states, “That now he is free, and you are as he was.”

Suddenly my skin burns with agony, and I scream so loud the heat of the air singes my throat until I can’t take it anymore and my brain cuts off my consciousness.

#the-planet-ceres #the planet ceres #fiction #writing #creative writing #stories #seance #demon #demon summoning #grades #good grades

[nataliesnews]

Tel Aviv demonstration  16.1.2023

My spelling device is not working so the mistakes are not because I don't know how to spell.

 What do you do when you invite eight people for breakfast and four of them phone in to say they are sick. Not Corona, more the common cold which seems not to be so common and other problems.  I am just relieved that it was not to be a picnic as one of them is my chief barbecuer and helper.

 Anyhow Leni, who looks after Ziva, gave me a valuable bit of intormation. We have often had problems with soldiers who demand that we delete photos we have taken on the phone. She showed me how to photograph so that it immediately goes on to facebook and only cuts the phone off and it remains on facebook.

  I have so many things I want to send you. I start a letter and then something else comes up. Not something better but worse. The only more positive thing is the PDF by my friend, Gershon Baskin, about the new political party which they are forming. Not that I have much hope for it. I wrote about it sometime ago. Also that I had met an old student of mine there who is working with Gershon. He had worked as a student in the library and is now the mayor of an Arab town.

  The demonstration at Sheikh Jarrah was peaceful though many people carrying big Palestinian flags were there. We thought there would be violence but when we got there and I saw the police did not have gas canisters on their uniforms I was pretty sure that there would be nothing. But it is the calm before the storm. I think they are just waiting for Ben Gvir to get into his stride. He called for symmetry in the way the police deal with demonstrations, right, left, all groups.  (He did not mention the way the police deal with Arabs. But  the difference between the two demonstrations of Saturday night, one the ultra orthodox against the 

 My whatsapp has been flooded with different groups looking for ways to get to Tel Aviv for the big demonstration . One of my friends who practically never goes to demonstrations told me that her husband, who himself is an invalid, asked her to go this evening. There is also a minor demonstration here in Jerusalem and she said she would go to  that. I doubt it but for him to ask her to go says something. It showed me how deep this has gone. Also there is more action on the bridges here in Jerusalem itself. I prefer Hemed which is near Abu Gosh and where people going in and out of Jerusalem see us and also the Arab population. 

 The demonstration in Tel Aviv was also peaceful but  in future I will probably just go in Tel Aviv. Going to the meeting place, getting to Tel Aviv, the demonstation  and then back took seven hours. The main thing is that it was peaceful. I think that the police in Jerusalem are more violent than in Tel Aviv.  As I wrote before they may be biding their times. Ben Gvir wants all demonstrations to be treated equally...but there is a big difference between the peaceful demonstration on Saturday night and the violent demonstration of the ultra-orthodox against cell phones. For those of you who do not know, the haredi try to stop their population using the phones for internet. They want to keep them as ignorant as possible. There is an IDF at the bottom.

 But this is what happened to a group of  demonstrators who wanted to enter a cafe. This is the new Israel in line with Ben Gvir's policy that doctors, shopkeepers, all can decide to whom they wish to give service. Two women were already refused entrance to a train and a bus by security guards because of shirts and slogan which they were bearing and one girl was refused to get on to a bus because the driver did not appove  of what she was wearing. This is only the beginning. Written by a demonstrator.

 I was at the demonstration this evening at the Bima square. Towards the end I entered the Milgo Milbar restaurant with my brother-in-law and we wanted to sit down to eat. The hostess and Lida the shift manager, Shahar, greeted us at the entrance and said that we cannot eat, there is no room. The restaurant was empty! I mentioned this and asked why and she replied that they have their own considerations. I insisted on understanding and she asked me to leave! Just kicked us out! Something surreal that outside there is a demonstration about democracy.

       --

   There is also a PDF about another attack by settlers on Palestinians and tourists near Jericho. You want to see an animal who probably descends from a Nazi of 1939. Look how this animal hits a woman with his baton.

  e

     --

#Tel Aviv demonstration 16.1.2023

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

As many had done before them, they were standing in the middle of the bridge, both heads bowed as they each scribbled a quick note on the small padlocks in their hands, which eventually would end up secured to the bridge, keys forever lost to the river below; a sweet symbolic gesture that, though storms would come, their love would remain. When she finished, Isabelle held the padlock up to Richard, her fine handwriting sprawled on the square, metallic surface with the permanent marker. She’d written the note in French, Richard, jet’aime de toute mon âme. Leaning into him, she translated, “‘I love you with all my soul’.” There was a sheepish smile on her face and a flutter in her heart, cheeks warmed slightly. A moment later, “What did you write? May I see?” Her grin widened as she tried to sneak a peek, a little laugh escaping her. (can be for either verse ♡)

Things for Richard: ALWAYS ACCEPTING

II @laviexenrose

A perfect picture. That was the only way Richard could describe it.-- The orange and pink sunset buttered against the Paris sky. The twinkling lights of the city only beginning to flitter on. The cheeky glances Richard would teasingly school Isabelle, like a student trying to eye another’s paper, as the two jotted down their lock-and-key vows, before he caught her attempting the same cheeky deed. “Has anybody ever told ye’ tha’ ye’ have the pre’iest handwritin’?” he cooed, before going back to scribbling onto his own padlock.  It wasn’t until a few seconds later that the Scotsman’s smile softened into something of pure adoration and admiration. He could feel his heart lightly fluttering against the confines of his chest. “It’s beautiful... I couldn’t have worded it be’er myself,” he hummed, before offering Isabelle a loving smile and a kiss. “Thank ye’, my darlin’.”

At the mention of his padlock, a wave of red crashed over his cheeks. “Oh... Erm... Well... It-... It’s not as original and beautiful as yer’s. It’s just... I’m not the best with words, so I though’ I’d steal some from one of my favourite poets.” Turning his padlock over, Richard showed Isabelle the scribbled words-- 

'And I will luve thee still, my dear,  Till a’ the seas gang dry. And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile’

“My mum would hum this tune every nigh’ when I was a wee boy. I couldn’t help but think of it whene’er I look at ye’. I think it just captures how I feel ‘bout us best. Do ye’ like it?” he asked sheepihsly. 

#laviexenrose #answered ask; #there and back again;v #//AHHHH MY WORDDD! 🥺// #//this ask made both Richard's and my heart melt!// #//hgkjdshkjghsdg thank u a ton for sending this luv! srsly these 2 deserve ALL the happiness// #//and love i cant with them 😭// #//thank u x 30000!!// #//also i hope its okay that i chose the main verse for this? :>// #Richard X Isabelle;