#Plaits and Pragmatism

[ghostly--omens]

Bored so I'm assigning an enneagram to each ghost

There are 9 enneagram types, there are 9 ghosts so...

The Reformer - The Captain: The Rational, Idealistic Type- Principled, Purposeful, Self-Controlled, and Perfectionistic it's just him innit

The Helper- Kitty: The Caring, Interpersonal Type: Demonstrative, Generous, People-Pleasing, and Possessive Kitty is such a people pleaser and also a wee bit possessive

The Achiever- Fanny: The Success-Oriented, Pragmatic Type: Adaptive, Excelling, Driven, and Image-Conscious Maybe this applies more to her younger self idk, but she's certainly image concious

The individualist- Thomas: The Sensitive, Withdrawn Type: Expressive, Dramatic, Self-Absorbed, and Temperamental Needs no explaination whatsoever

The Investigator- Robin: The Intense, Cerebral Type: Perceptive, Innovative, Secretive, and Isolated my big-brained best friend

The Loyalist- Humphrey: The Committed, Security-Oriented Type: Engaging, Responsible, Anxious, and Suspicious Responsible? Idk but this was the only type left, sorry Humphrey

The Enthusiast- Mary (RIP): The Busy, Fun-Loving Type: Spontaneous, Versatile, Distractible, and Scattered she is busy making baskets five potatoes high

The Challenger- Julian: The Powerful, Dominating Type: Self-Confident, Decisive, Willful, and Confrontational I really struggled between whether him and Fanny should swap but idk he seems more confident in himself than her

The Peacekeeper- Pat: The Easygoing, Self-Effacing Type: Receptive, Reassuring, Agreeable, and Complacent Might be biased because I'm a 9 but he just is, isn't he? "Guys! Si'l vous plait!" my conflict fearing king

#bbc ghosts #ghosts bbc #enneagram #the six idiots #you can fight me on this

[thegodcyclecomic]

Hello again! Thank you for your post that covered my question on what sources of inspiration you used for Athena. It was super enlightening!

I know this is a tall order because the myths are broad, but could you discuss what aspects of characterization and dimensions you feel are often ignored about Athena? This is me practically begging for a meta post, but I genuinely love hearing your thoughts on her because I agree with your assessment that roughly most media tend to lean to simplistic aspects of Athena. I like hearing from your inspiration notes that you thought of Athena’s childhood with Pallas and how she is more of a pragmatic character that has agency.

I have a lot of thoughts on this so this post won't be as comprehensive as I originally intended, I will be briefly covering the points I want to list out. I try my best to base my writing of Athena on the canon source material, but there will be aspects that veer into my own interpretation/headcanon territory. All Iliad passages here are from the Robert Fitzgerald translation.

Anyway, here are the aspects of characterization I think are normally ignored when authors write Athena.

Her calculating nature / intelligence

This one sounds weird because it's paradoxically the first thing that comes to mind when writing Athena. The issue with this is the same issue when amateur authors try to write characters who are smarter than them: They resort to cheap shortcuts and stereotypes to show a character is "smart".

Examples of this would be the overusage of chess imagery. It's a game that wouldn't exist in Ancient Greece anyway, and it's a measure of spatial memorization rather than strategy. In real warfare, everything is variable to change. Chess pieces don't have motivations or biases that could influence their actions. Opening moves in chess have their counters, but real-life tactics allow you more freedom on how to engage with it.

The next writing shortcut people resort to re: Athena's intelligence is how they use her reading books to show she is "smart" but don't really elaborate on what kind of books she reads of what topics she specializes in which is already in the mythos that can give you lots of ideas.

I mentioned this before but when I started TGC I had a hard time characterizing Athena at first because I didn't understand her domains too well. So you know what I did? I picked up books about military history, Ancient Greek laws, political theory, philosophy, and similar. Learning about these things gave me a perspective of "how would the personification of the state act if they were a person?". Ancient Greece was big on the Social Contract, as exemplified in Socrates's speech in Plato's Apology.

There's a lot more to it, I'm not doing it justice at all in this post. But that's the idea. In the Oresteia, Athena created the practice of cross-examination for murder trials, and then immediately proceeded to undermine the entire justice process by attempting to bribe the prosecution (the Furies). In the Iliad Book 4, she disguises herself as a Trojan soldier to trick Laodokos to shoot Menelaus to break the ceasefire-- essentially enacting what we in modern day would call a False Flag Operation. It's so quintessentially Politician(tm) of her to do.

Athena's intelligence comes from how she seeks to improve and make efficient current systems, like her strategy to Ares's warfare. Or her various inventions in mythos. Another one would be her ability to manipulate people and situations to push for the outcomes she wants. You can see this in her various dialogues in the Epic Cycle:

Athena grifting in the Odyssey in a speech she makes to Zeus about why she should be allowed to assist Odysseus.

520: Athena kept the pace behind them, bearing her shield of storm, immortal and august, whose hundred golden-plaited tassles, worth a hekatomb each one, floated in air. So down the ranks that dazzling goddess went to stir the attack, and each man in his heart grew strong to fight and never quit the melee, for at her passage war itself became lovelier than return, lovelier than sailing in the decked ships to their own native land -Iliad Book 4

and this

100: “Son of Lykaon, I have in mind an exploit that may tempt you, tempt a fighting heart. Have you the gall to send an arrow like a fork of lightning home against Menelaus? Every Trojan heart would rise, and every man would praise you, especially Paris, the prince— you would be sure to come by glittering gifts if he could see the warrior, Menelaus, the son of Atreus, brought down by your bow, then bedded on a dolorous pyre! Come now, brace yourself for a shot at Menelaus. engage to pay Apollo, the bright archer, a perfect hekatomb of firstling lambs when you go home to your old town, Zeleia.” That was Athena’s way, leading him on, the foolish man, to folly. -Iliad Book 4

from what I can understand, Athena's domain of wisdom is not just limited to giving insight to people-- but also in obscuring the truth and leading others to their ruin. Which is in line with one of Athena's epithets which is Απατουρια (Apaturia) "Deciever".

Often times in other adaptations, they relegate Athena's intelligence to spouting random facts or a "nerdy" personality. Or they nerf it so that she doesn't solve these braindead plots in 2 seconds. Take Athena from Lore Olympus for example, the Athena of canon would've never allowed any of this shit with Persephone and Apollo undermining Zeus to happen TT_TT if you have to make your characters stupid for the story to work, then it is a bad story hands down.

2. Interpretations regarding Athena's relationship with heroes

This is something I see a lot where Athena is written to have a personal investment in her heroes like they are "her blorbos" (actual words I've seen people on this hellsite use for this). I'd like to direct your attention to this passage from of Athena speaking in Iliad book 8.

My father, now, is full of a black madness, evil and perverse. All that I strive for he brings to nothing: He will not remember how many times I intervened to save his son, worn out in trials set by Eurystheus. How Heracles would cry to heaven! And Zeus Would send me out of heaven to be his shield. Had I forseen this day that time he went down, bidden by Eurystheus, between Death’s narrow gates to bring from Erebos the watchdog of the Lord of Undergloom, he never would have left the gorge of Styx!

The way I understand this passage is that Athena does a lot of "NPC questgiver" tasks for Zeus in an attempt to curry favor from him. It's a calculated choice on her part and not something she does out of the kindness of her heart. A similar situation occurs when Orestes asks Athena for aid, she helps him on the insistence of Apollo.

Regarding Odysseus, I'm sure there is some fondness she has for him-- but that doesn't stop her from allowing him to be struck by storm (as collateral damage for the crimes of Ajax the lesser for raping Cassandra in Athena's temple). Or from her setting up the suitor problem so she could convince him to murder them all.

If you've noticed, all of Athena's champions are some kind of high-ranking warriors. A king or general or prince. You would think that the goddess of wisdom would favor the philosophers more, or would choose more often to avoid violence. But Athena is very quick to choose violence, it's who she is. And she needs a tool that she can use as a blade.

(these are my interpretations, if you disagree thats fine) 3. Athena as a "peaceful" goddess

This one makes me laugh and also drives me insane.

There are two Homeric hymns that directly and clearly contradict this idea.

(HOMERIC HYMNS 5 - 33, TRANSLATED BY H. G. EVELYN-WHITE) a. The Homeric Hymn to Athena

Of Pallas Athene, guardian of the city, I begin to sing. Dread is she, and with Ares she loves deeds of war, the sack of cities and the shouting and the battle. It is she who saves the people as they go out to war and come back. Hail, goddess, and give us good fortune with happiness!

b. The Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite

...Yet there are three hearts that she cannot bend nor yet ensnare. First is the daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis, bright-eyed Athene; for she has no pleasure in the deeds of golden Aphrodite, but delights in wars and in the work of Ares, in strifes and battles and in preparing famous crafts. 

What I find insightful about the second one is that it gives a specific reason for why Athena cannot be moved by romantic love. It's because war occupies the space in her heart that love would normally be. Both hymns specifically name drop Ares, so the idea that Athena finds Ares's violence to be repulsive is just blatantly untrue. If anything, she adores it. The time it would become an issue for her is when his rampages act against her greater interests, which is the source of all their duels in canon.

Other proof for Athena being generally violent can be inferred from her characterization in the Iliad, the instances of which are too numerous to list here.

4. Athena's personality defined by her lack of childhood.

I mentioned this in another post, but Athena was born from Zeus as an adult (though in TGC I changed this to being born as a pre-teen. This is intentional and serves a purpose). What we know about psychology today is that for normal social and emotional development, young children need to form an attachment with at least one primary caregiver. Athena being born as an adult means that she would've missed out on important development milestones that other gods would've gone through.

I will preemptively say that before you bring up the "theyre Gods they're not like humans" that as far as mythos is concerned, the way that gods behave and think is almost exactly identical to that of humans. They experience the same range of emotions humans do, as well as grief and trauma. So I will consider that their psychology is also the same with the difference being that they might experience mental degradation not typically seen in humans because of cumulative negative experiences over a long period.

Back to Athena, the only framework she would have to start from literally being born yesterday would be the fragments of memories she gleaned from being inside of Zeus's head. I think this would be confusing for her, as these are from the first-person perspective of Zeus, so using his memories but lacking context for those experiences might lead to an early identity crisis. Athena would then have to play catchup in learning extremely fast everything to fill those blanks.

This is why I think Athena has a hard time forming personal connections. She doesn't have a true equal. Athena's relationships are defined by power imbalances and transactions, and that is how she understands relationships in general to work.

5. Athena's humanity.

I think what bothers me the most about Athena in adaptations is the lack of humanity given to her character. I know I just went over why she's a manipulative machiavellian character, but what I see is that Athena often gets relegated to the Unfun Stick in the Mud character. She exists to ruin the fun of the Fun Chaotic Dudes Dionysus, Hermes, and Apollo. She doesn't have anything going to her except being a snitch and a daddy's girl, or worse, she exists to be "put in her place" by other male gods. This is why I really dislike Fedini's and "incorrect greek gods" take on Athena. I think there's this underlying biases that an ace-coded goddess can't have anything interesting about her, because all media on tumblr and fandom these days are broken down to fucking shipping instead of seriously engaging with the source material. I've seen people call her a Mary Sue or act like she is an annoying bitch for exhibiting personality traits that would be praised in a male character (the traits of a Byronic Hero).

Portrayals of Athena go one extreme or another, either she is a wholly Good goddess or she is a Villain/mere annoyance. It's a real shame to see, because I hope I can show you now that she is a wonderfully complex and morally grey character. I want to see Athena's curiosity and how she tries to understand the world from her own perspective. I want to explore her relationships with Zeus and her siblings like Ares and Apollo outside of the Meme'fication of Greek mythology.

Anyway, that's all I can think of for now, I hope this answers your question. If you have any point you'd like me to explain more, I'd be glad to make another post in greater detail.

#athena #tagamemnon #greek mythology #greek myths #the god cycle #ask

[mehoymalloy]

I finally got to write a scene that lodged itself in my brain nearly four months ago and donkey-kicked my little writing journey into motion, so here have a rough snippit!

Tilda’s doors opened as she was packing things away, tidying up her pallet of mats—she would not be able to sleep tonight—and storing any untouched fruits she had laid out. She turned to face the intrusion, a tight but curious smile quirking her lip, frozen in the motion of placing a pomegranate into a bowl.

“Oh, Aloy,” her smile bloomed. Aloy leaned against the doorframe, freshly washed hair plaited into her signature braids, a deeper shade of auburn than their usual sun bleached red.

“What are you doing?” Aloy asked, eying her hands warily.

Tilda placed the bowl down but held on to the pomegranate, passing it between her hands, allowing the slightest hint of her nerves to show, “Tidying up,” she smiled gently, “You know, just in case.”

“In case...what?”

Tilda stepped forward, surprised when Aloy moved to meet her halfway, “I’m nothing if not pragmatic, Aloy. In case I don’t come back.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Aloy said, practically snarled, definitively. Then, surprising Tilda again, she plucked the pomegranate directly from her hand, as if that alone made it final. Tilda would absolutely be coming back because Aloy had stopped her from placing a pomegranate in a bowl with the rest.

Tilda smirked as she gestured toward the fruit, noticing that Aloy was gripping it just a tad too firmly. “You know,” she murmured, “taking that does not negate the fact that I could very well die tomorrow. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that.”

Aloy looked like she wanted to chuck the pomegranate at her head. “Don’t be so dramatic,” she muttered. “We’re all going to be fine.”

Tilda hummed softly, reaching out to delicately pry the fruit from her grasp, changing the topic to hopefully improve Aloy’s mood. “Do you even like pomegranates?” she asked.

EDIT: Final scene can be found here.

#fanfic #fanfiction #tilda van der meer #aloy x tilda #aloy/tilda #sneak peek #horizon forbidden west #hfw

[werspinna]

does your muse tend to wake up with bedhead?

Sleep-Related Headcanons !

Wolf does not wake up with a bedhead for the simple reason that she has braided long ribbons in her braids that keep the form of the braids and keep single strains from loosing out of the plaits. This hairstyle is to keep the hair from breaking or knotting and also Wolf can easily put the braids up in a crown and sew it in place when she is expecting to work on the convents fields for a day or is going on a hunt. After all, Wolf is only washing her hair once a week when she is visiting one of the citys bathouses (and considering she is living in italian it is not only a medieval bathhouse that had been already a social meeting-knot, but a bathhouse inspired- or originally build- by the Romans so a bath is even more of a social event that does take most of the day once a week). In the morning and the evening when she is having a quick catwash with vinegarwater and soap as any normal person of her time, it is simply too much work to unbraid her hair and comb through it. There is even less time when she is going for the qicker version of a bath with oliveoil and a Strigilis. Accordingly Wolf does not has a bedhead specifically because she is having a pragmatic hairstyle made for work and keeping dirt out of the hair for a longer period of time.

#werspinna #headcanon #Medieval hairstyle meta? yeh medieval hairstyle meta #Considering how highly sexulaized hair is in her time #especially a womans hair #Wolf very much only wears her hair loose when she is going partying. #or when she is going to the bathhouse #which- consideirng medieval bathhouse culture- is KINDA the same you get me #Having the hair down is pretty mcuh the 'yeh I am ready to get laid' signal from her

[andthedreamgoesreducto]

“It wasn’t just the uncomfortable weather that had Ginny pining for British soil. As her first Christmas after graduating, she had been looking forward to spending time with the family. Instead, she was in a random hotel in Norway, thousands of miles away from any of it.”

It’s Christmas 1999, and Ginny needs some wisdom from a new roommate to show her, with plaits and pragmatism, that all is not completely lost this festive season.

#Hinny #Ginny Weasley #Holyhead Harpies #female friendships #fanfiction #Harry Potter #andthedreamgoesreducto #Plaits and Pragmatism #quidditch #my writing #hinny fanfic

[seoafin]

growing pains

pairing: gojo satoru x reader ft. megumi and tsumiki fushiguro words: 1.1k a/n: yes. more hand holding.

you and gojo reminiscence.

"What are you looking at?" You ask, a yawn on your lips as you stroll into the College's lounge room. Satoru sits on the long, brown couch, legs propped up on the table in front of him, and you can see the reflection of his illuminated phone in the darkness of his shades.

When he stays silent, your curiosity is piqued. You drop your bag onto the couch. Taking a seat next to him, you lean sideways and peer at his phone. Your face brightens at the image, and you smile.

On his screen is a surprisingly clear photo of you, Megumi, and Tsumiki.

You remember this moment.

Dressed in a flowy, sky blue dress, tights, and buckled shoes fitted on her feet, Tsumiki's bright smile is more than enough to make up for Megumi's lack thereof. In fact Tsumiki seems to be the only one who recognizes a picture is being taken, her smile aimed towards the camera against the backdrop of a large castle in the distance. On her head is a red headband with mouse ears, carefully placed as to not ruin the intricate braids you had struggled with that morning.

You wanted to call Shoko after the first forty minutes of uneven braiding. But then Satoru had poked his head in the room, asking you what the hold up was. One glance was all he needed before he was telling you scoot over. It had taken him ten minutes, and Tsumiki's hair was perfected; two perfect twin plaits that she had delightedly admired in the mirror, eyes wide.

Megumi's face, on the other hand, is angled up at you, hand tugging on your shirt as you look down at him. In your hands you juggle two soft serves and a wrapped popsicle.

"I can help," Megumi had said to you then, as always the responsible one. Although he looked unconcerned, the set of his eyebrows wasn’t as harsh, as unforgiving as it used to be. "You'll drop it."

"Kids..." Satoru starts absentmindedly, pulling you out of the memory. "They grow up pretty quick, huh?"

You pull back, settling yourself against his shoulder. Your eyes never leave the screen. You think of Tsumiki, tucked away in a hospital, and your heart pangs. Every time you visited, she slept, face smooth of all worries, looking no closer to waking up than she originally had.

It seemed just yesterday that Megumi had come up to your waist.

Time and another tragedy had sanded away his rough edges, and he was no longer the indifferent child or volatile teenager he had once been. You are sad for it. You would have gladly dealt with all the parent teacher conferences in the world if it meant that Megumi could have stewed in teenage rebellion longer, for as long as he felt appropriate. Megumi was sensible. Shrewdly pragmatic, even as a child.

You knew he would have come around sooner than later.

Satoru would have complained, but you knew he would come along anyway, if anything to look at the state of the several kids Megumi had pummeled with a few smart comments on misplaced punches.

You were surprised at how relieved you had been at news of his delinquency. For as much as you disapproved of Megumi's violence, you liked that he felt he could act out. He knew you would always welcome him back with open arms, unconditionally.

Teenagers were supposed to act out, weren’t they?

"I'm a little sad, knowing Megumi’s all grown," you admit. You don’t admit that he’d always be a child in your eyes. Satoru knows. You allow yourself a moment to grieve for the children he and Tsumiki had never been. "He used to be so cold!” You bemoan. “Always ignoring me!”

You distinctly remember Megumi slamming the door in your face the first couple of times you visited. There’d be a muffled, chiding, “Megumi! Was that…” from the other side. The door would swing open a few seconds later to reveal Tsumiki who was sheepish, and Megumi, who would always look at anything other than you, pointedly ignoring you, making it clear you were a nuisance.

Satoru snorts, body jerking. "He hated you more than hated me, talk about surprising!" A short pause, and the phone turns off with a click. "It's already been eight years since then."

You think he sounds wistful, and you know it isn't just Megumi and Tsumiki he's talking about.

Your hand closes over his in response, and you gently squeeze. Sleep tugs at your eyelids, dragging them shut, and you nestle against him, making yourself comfortable with a hum. 

His head turns to you, and you feel the slight prickle of his gaze roaming your face. His voice takes on a lighter tone. "Tired?"

You make a noncommittal noise, eyes still closed. "D'you mind?"

"Carry on," he says, amused.

"Wake me up in a bit, will you?" You mumble. "Papers to grade."

"Leave it to me!"

The last thing you remember is the slightest pressure on your hand.

—

"Gojo-s—"

You wake up with a start, blinking your surroundings into focus. You're met with a panicking Ijichi, gaze darting from you to Satoru. His eyes are wide, frantic, behind his glasses.

"M-my apologies! I didn't realize you were resting!!!"

It takes you a couple of seconds to remember where you are.

“It’s fine! Don’t worry about it!” You smile warmly, hoping to calm down the man. “I’m sure you have enough on your plate dealing with Satoru.”

He deflates, momentarily saved, but when Satoru makes an affronted noise from next to you, he stiffens. You nudge your shoulder into his arm in response.

You're about to raise your arms to stretch when you realize your hand is stuck. Or more specifically, entwined with Satoru's. Laughter bubbles up in your throat. You pull at your hand, but Satoru curls his fingers into the back of your hand, fingers so long they nearly reach your wrist.

"You wanna let go?"

He doesn’t even pretend to act innocent, face suspiciously blank. "Not really."

You’d say he even looks grumpy, but quickly discard the thought. About what?

You roll your eyes, and settle back down with a huff. Through the windows, you can see complete darkness blanketing the school grounds.

You straighten, eyes wide.

A hesitant prod. "U-um—"

"Ijichi, what time is it!?" You demand.

He jumps. "Yes? Yes! It's a quarter past nin—"

He doesn't get to finish before you're bolting up, hands slipping from Satoru’s. You don’t see the unhappy frown that appears on his face.

You swipe your bag from the couch. “I have to go! I’ll see you!”

You don’t wait for a response. You nod a quick goodbye to Ijichi. He’s trembling. The last thought you have as you rush out the door is whether or not you should get him a scarf for Christmas.

He looks like the type who gets cold easily.

—

"..."

"..."

"G-Gojo-san—"

"Ijichi, I'm going to punish you later."

He tries not to let the sob erupt, but a pitiful whimper escapes.

1) gojo has an entire photo album dedicated to pictures of you that range from straight up unflattering to professional level photography

2) gojo definitely went on the kids rides at disneyland lmao

3) gojo misses seeing you sleep since the two can't share a bed as often, seeing as you're often away. that's why he's grumpy!

#anyway this seemed fitting considering hands + the latest chapter #pls excuse me while I try not to think abt it or else I will cry 😁 #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #m.jjk #ripverse

[soranihimawari]

Ribbons

Wrote this a while ago after reading JJK 0. Upon the reread, I thought well damn, I’m feeling might attached to Okkotsu Yuuta…

Word Count: idek

strangers to pragmatic friendship// not clear if relationship is something more, but for now it works. :)

tying your hair up with the charms from the festival does something to keep the demons at bay; in the back of his mind he sees a girl with free flowing hair blown by the wind. your hair is part of your identity, long, luscious, and filled with a pride he thinks he knows. he remembers how it felt in his hands when you asked him to help you plait it. the safe house where you spent your free time reading up on folklore about the supernatural and learning how to cook for someone other than yourself seemed like good start. forming a crush on the new tenant, that was a pleasant surprise on both ends; young independent sixteen-seventeen year olds with a bunch of time on their hands post school hours preoccupy themselves in learning to adapt to the other. a few sharp shiny objects are kept in the rooms, but that is mostly reserved for target practice.

one day, you ask him if he wanted to accompany you to a small festival at the shrine nearby. he nods, and during that day he watches you tying your hair with an assortment of ribbons. he bought the ones you’re using now; the ones that have little bells at the end to signal you’re close by. he asks you if you wear them often, you answer they are your favorite because of the value the person who gave them to you left behind. friendships formed under the guise of the need to move foreword are painful, yet the path is not an easy one to tread alone, so to make things a smidge easier, you reckon you hold his hand to keep him balanced. or as balanced as he can be. you hold each other’s hand in a silent way to help keep the demons of the past, present, and future at bay.

you come to an understanding to not pry too much in the past. he’ll tell you about the first love he had experienced, you’ll remind him you aren’t her. it takes some time, but once the link in the chain breaks, you have this aura radiating a spring that might everlast with him. he talks about the meadows and the flower crowns he thinks you’d wear walking home arm in arm that night. keeping his mind off the days leading up to the accident that sealed the beginnings of his fate, you tilt your head to one side curious about the omnipresent person standing by the flickering lights. you acknowledge the specter as if to say you’re beee to be of help, not anything more.

‘can you imagine me in a flower crown though?’ your voice is distinctly filled with copper tones and brass pipes.

you have a hint of a laugh behind your eyes. you let go of his arm curious as to why he stopped walking watching you take a few steps ahead of him. you turn to face him, the bells in the ribbons you wore to the festival create shadow bunnies on the pavement. he brings a finger over his lips tapping over them with a pondering face before he truly answers your inquiry:

‘you’d wear one of marigold and meadowsweet…’ his is like the trickle of a pond, calm, nervous.

‘how utterly resplendent,’ you take a deep breath and when you exhale, he is next to you again. ‘i figured yours would be made of foxgloves and mignonettes.’

he half smiles, or was that a smirk, a cheeky one he is. your flowers he chose meant grief and peaceful protection because without your aid in curing this heaviness, he would surely be done for; and you chose for him the ones symbolizing the insecurities he feels are valid while he earns his sense of self worth. both are worthy of love and the like of wondrous things that were at a time were out of reach for the other person.

so why now does the ribbon fall past your cheek with the locks of hair attached seemed like snow falling down? by the way things look from the outside in, you’re just a pawn ready to play king. thus when your voice regains its vigor, and without the full comprehension of what is going on around you, you smile back at the boy with curious eyes.

‘it’s all right yuuta,’ your smile is subservient to his horrified look. ‘it’ll grow back.’

he wants to move. he knows he he has to. you’ve given up some part of yourself where the pride you have is forgotten for now. for now, the blades are drawn at the ready to slash, you recognize the paralyzing fear encompassing him. you shout at him to pay attention, to bring back whatever essence of peace you brought to him. he blinks, nodding he understands.

and so the battle begins.

a sickle isn’t what comes to mind when fighting demons, but when the plan goes sideways, you need to find a way to cut the light in. over and over again you help run the support on the board okkotsu yuuta attempts to control. the creatures behind you back away slowly because to them, you’re the expendable one. they only need him to pull off something much more sinister.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #sora scribbles #sora things: jjk 0 #okkotsu imagines

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Sunshine

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x OC (Evelyn “Evie” Blaker)

Warnings: None

A/N: I’m creeping close towards the end.  We got some smut, some angst, more smut, and a whole ass load of fluff coming down the pipeline.

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]

Part 5 

 Lead to Big Changes

Evie stood in the bathroom, brushing her long hair before plaiting in into a braid. She took one last look at herself and satisfied everything was in place as it should be, she entered the bedroom where Maxwell was sitting on the bed putting on his cuff links.  He looked up to watch as she walked over to his dresser, where her items were laid out neatly.  She began put on her necklace before moving on to other items.

Like that first morning together, it felt natural to him to see her puttering around his room, getting ready for the day.  His long hours prevented him from really feeling how empty such a large house could be for one person, but there were times when that coldness, the loneliness touched him.  But not now, not when she was here, and she warmed rooms she wasn’t even in. He watched her intently, noticing the subtle bounce of her breasts, the sway of her hips, and that cute little hop she does when she walks.

“Why do you hop when you walk?”  She turned her head towards him, a look of confusion on her face.  “You have this little hop when you walk.”

“Oh, the hop.”  She laughed and went back to what she was doing.  “A gift from the pier.”

When she finished putting on her accessories, she turned around to see him still watching her and she smiled.  Walking over to him, she began to knot his tie that he had yet to do up.  Her brows furrowed a bit as she worked and he sat patiently, placing his hands on her jean-clad hips, sneak his thumbs under the hem of her tee shirt to rub along her skin.  She had only been in town for less than one day and he was already dreading her return to Poughkeepsie.

“What’s your plan for the day?”  When she arrived, Evie insisted that he didn’t need to stop his world just to babysit her, that she could find things to do while he was at work.  He tried to protest, but when he looked at his schedule, he found things he couldn’t cancel or more.  So, he became more pragmatic about it.  He his schedule to have his late afternoons and evenings free and if two deals went through today, he was going to have a nice long weekend with her, uninterrupted.

“Not sure yet, it’s so warm for October that I might go to a park. Maybe museum hop or stop by an art gallery.  The city is my oyster, so whatever strikes my fancy I guess.”

“Take my credit card.”

“Max, I don’t need you to pay for anything.”  She laughed as she patted down the knot and straightened the tie, admiring her handwork as she talked.  She proceeded to button up his vest since she was standing there, and she thought there was no need for her to do any of this.  But the idea of being part of Maxwell’s routine felt right, as if she had always been a part of it.

Never in all her relationships had she ever felt at such ease with someone as she did with Maxwell.  It was as if they had known each other for years, rather than only a couple of months. Silences weren’t awkward, they were already developing their own group of inside jokes and waking up in his bed seemed like the most normal thing in the world.  

Evie loved her life in Poughkeepsie, but the idea of going back seemed sad to her.  Other than her job, there wasn’t a life for her in her hometown anymore.  Her best friend moved to Boston last year and her dad moved to Lake Placid to wind down toward retirement.  She sat on a non-profit board and occasionally joined a book club at the library, but the last couple of years it had just been home and work. Change might be good, she thought on the train ride into the city.

Here, the city offered so much more, including Maxwell.  Whose thumbs continued to rub against the skin of her hips, and it was starting to drive her a little crazy.

“You sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

“Of course.  I’m a big girl.”  She leaned down to kiss his lips softly and before she could pull back, he was chasing her lips for a longer kiss.  His tongue snaked out to swipe against her lower lip and she smiled as she opened to let him in.  Soon their kiss turned breathless and Maxwell pulled back so he could breathe again. Their eyes were darkened by lust, but Evie – as usual – broke the spell first by gently kissing his forehead and stepping away from his touch.  His hands dropped onto his thighs as he watched her head to his closet to take out her sweater.

“Yeah, I know.”  His tone was husky and more than a little feral sounding.  She smiled a little wickedly as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. It was her turn to watch him.  Even at home, Maxwell carried himself with command and authority and Evie realized that this was a natural posture for him. He wasn’t putting on a show, he was just finishing his morning routine.  She felt a shiver of pleasure run through her.  He was all man and for now at least, all hers.

After finishing up, he turned to Evie and held out his hand.  She slid it into his easily and they left the room to start their day.  They stopped off in the kitchen so Evie could meet Marnie, his cook, and after a rapid-fire ten-minute conversation, Maxwell ushered her out of the kitchen, a couple of breakfast sandwiches in tow.  He shook his head, not believing that in such a short amount of time, Evie learned the names of all Marnie’s grandchildren, how long she was married to her husband, and her favorite thing to cook.  

Like with Bennett, Evie easily inserted herself into the lives of his staff and they all seemed to love her.  He pretended like he didn’t see Marnie’s pointed look that said, how did you snag someone like this?  Maxwell didn’t know the answer and he wasn’t stupid enough to question it.  As they exited the house, Bennett was waiting with the doors open and in the crisp October morning, the warmth of the car was quite welcomed.

“Bennett, drive Evie wherever she wants to go today.” Maxwell pulled out his phone, scrolling through his calendar and starting to prepare for the day. Without either him or Evie realizing it, her Max was stepping back into the role of Maxwell Lord, CEO of Chimtech.

“Max, no!  I can take a cab, it’s not a big deal.”

“Evie, he will drive you, it’s what he’s paid for.”  Maxwell’s voice was harsh and left little room for compromise. She was taken aback, although he didn’t seem notice as his eyes never left his cell.  She was more than a little shocked because in the entire time they had known each other, he never talked to her in that way.  Before she could say anything, Bennett spoke from the driver’s seat.

“Yes Mr. Lord.”  He didn’t miss a beat as he drove them to headquarters and Maxwell kissed Evie on the cheek before he got out, acting as if nothing happened.  He slipped his credit card into her sweater pocket before she could say anything.  As he walked away, Evie turned to the driver, a sly smile growing on her lips.

“Bennett, what are Bette and Lorraine doing today?”  He looked back at her, surprised.

“Well Lorraine is on break from school and Bette’s home with her, why?”

“Let’s make this a family day.”

“Wait.  What?

“Call up Bette and see if they’d like to join us for day on the town.”  She waived Maxwell’s card.  “His treat.”

“Okay, where to you want to go?”

“What does Bette and Lorraine like?”

“Well my Bette loves flowers and Lorraine is wild about flamingos.”  Bennett snapped his fingers and looked at Evie.  “We can go to the Bronx.  They got the Botanical Gardens and a zoo!”

“Perfect, let’s go!”  Evie sat back and looked out the window.  She was still dwelling on the tone he used and how it stung her.  She looked at the credit card in her hands as Bennett drove them to Brooklyn to pick up their passengers.  If he wants to act like a dick, then he can pay for it, she thought. Literally.

---***---

Bette was just as vivacious a person as her husband and the two women immediately recognized a kindred spirit in the other.  They chatted through the whole ride to the park as Lorraine sat up front with her father, forever a daddy’s girl.  The day was sunny and gorgeous, and the foursome strolled through gardens, enjoying the sights.  Bennett had been modest when he said his wife loved flowers.  

Turns out she was a horticulturalist and worked for City University of New York as a professor in their science department at the Bronx campus.  Evie hung onto every word her new friend said about the plants they viewed, and she could see Bennett bursting with pride.  Evie believed that the morning’s adventures wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable had Bette not come along.  They left the park briefly to grab something to eat.  During lunch, Evie’s phone rang and when she saw it was Maxwell, she picked up.

“Hi Max.”  Evie smiled into the phone and turned away from the table as not to be rude, but she didn’t miss Bette mouth, ‘Max?’ to Bennett with a look of surprise.  He shrugged with a look back at her.  His voice was low enough that Evie didn’t catch anything he said.

“Hey you.  How is the city treating you?”

“Good.  I’m at lunch right now. But we visited the botanical gardens this morning and after lunch we’ll stop by the zoo.”

“We?”  The word caused a twinge of jealousy to course through him and his words came out hard. One day in the city and she’s already gallivanting off with others, a wicked voice in his head hissed at him.  “Who could you possibly be with?”

“Yes, we. Bennett and his family joined me and we’re having a blast. Lorraine is going to teach me about flamingos when we go to the zoo.”  She was shocked at his tone and she returned it with a neutral one of her own to tamp down any confusion that could be sparked by an argument.  She stood up and walked way, positioning herself near a window and away from people.

“You’re with my driver and his family?”  She told him to go to work today and she was out and about with his driver and allegedly his family?  Did she plan this all along?  Maxwell’s face grew warm as his jealousy boiled beneath the surface.

“Yes.  If Bennett is going to be with me all day, then why not?  Who am I hurting?  And besides, I want to learn about flamingos.”  Her tone turned pointed and she refused to explain any further.  She waited until he spoke, stretching their silence out – one that was filled with tension.  Behind her, Bennett and Bette exchanged another look and kept eating lunch while Lorraine continued to read her book.

In that silence, something changed and suddenly the tone he took with her was back to normal.  The whiplash it caused Evie almost made her dizzy, but she could still sense a strain lacing his words.

“Ah.  Well, Marnie called me and said she was cooking dinner tonight.  That ravioli dish you two talked about this morning.  It should be ready by seven.  Will you be back in time?”

“Yep.  See you then.”  She ended the call without waiting for him to reply and sighed.  She wasn’t stupid, she knew Maxwell was used to getting his way and was used to making comments and remarks that were curt, hard, brusk, even downright rude was more akin to his normal way of speaking.  The softness he directed towards her was the anomaly.

While she wasn’t above using a sharp tone when the situation warranted it, she felt bitterness in her mouth when confronted with unnecessary rudeness and maltreatment.   For the first time, the little niggles of doubt that had been on the edge of her mind since Maxwell Lord first came into her life began to crawl out of the shadows.

“Ready to go see the zoo and check out some flamingos?”  She smiled brightly again and turned towards her lunch companions. Everyone nodded and as Evie paid the bill with Maxwell’s credit card and felt a lot better.

Little Lorraine was much like her mother and as they wandered through the zoo, the young girl threw out facts and stories about many of the animals, most excited for the flamingos, of course.  

As they moved from exhibit to exhibit, Lorraine and Evie unconsciously matched up with the former having an audience for all that her brain had offer and the latter excited to learn new things.  Once they arrived at the flamingo enclosure, the young girl sighed with happiness.

“Lorraine, why do you like flamingos so much?”  Evie asked as they leaned on the rail watching the birds walk elegantly through the enclosure, their bright pink plumes a perfect complement for the deep blue autumn sky above them.

“Cause they’re stupid looking and dance like morons.”  Evie began laughing loudly in surprise.

“How do you know they dance like morons?”  Evie smiled as Lorraine took out her cell phone and pulled up youtube. In her library were dozens of videos about flamingos.  The young girl clicked on one video and there it was, the stupid flamingo mating dance.

“You’re right, they do dance like morons.  I can see why you love them.”  Evie smiled down at her.  Lorraine grabbed her hand and they moved onto the next exhibit with Bennett and Bette trailing behind and holding hands like teenagers.  They were enjoying their impromptu date and Bennett brought their clasped hands up to his lips, smiling the whole time.

While Evie gave her full attention to Lorraine, seeing Bennett be so generous and open with not just Bette, but everyone around him gave her heart a little twinge.  She squeezed Lorraine’s hand and refocused herself on the conversation at hand.  She wasn’t about to let Maxwell Lord detract her from learning about the lemurs next.

By the end of the afternoon, everyone was pleasantly exhausted and the drive back to Maxwell’s house seemed all the quieter after Bette and Lorraine were dropped off at home, with promises of seeing them soon from both Bennett and Evie. She was giddy to have made a friend in the city, giving her another reason to come to visit.  When Bennett dropped her off, she waved good-bye and trudged up the stairs into the house.

The cozy atmosphere enveloped her as she opened the door and then closed it behind her.  The day was catching up to her and she leaned against the door, her thighs starting to ache from all the walking.  I’m entirely too out of shape for this city, she thought.  She closed her eyes a moment and before she could open them, a set of plush lips brushed against hers.  

Evie opened her eyes to find Maxwell standing in front of her, looking relaxed. His tie was off, and his sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets.  Outside of sleeping in bed, this was probably the most relaxed Maxwell had been in front of her.  He rocked back on his heels, looking at her with a smile on his face that also seemed relaxed.  His aura seeped into her own body and she relaxed, too.

“Did you enjoy the zoo?”  Whatever tone he took with her earlier in the day was gone and in his place was the attentive partner, supportive and loving.  It was as if the Maxwell from earlier had been conjured up by her brain to sow the seeds of doubt in her mind.  In fact, as Maxwell stood there, he didn’t even think of his comments earlier or his tones.  He was interested in what she had to say, wanted to know how her day went.  

As he waited for her answer, she realized he was interested in what she had to say.  After their date, he all but admitted that he never conversed with people and yet with her, he was fully invested in everything she did or said.  It made her feel wanted and loved in ways other partners hadn’t. The thoughts from earlier in the day and the worries that had crowed the edge of her mind seemed to disappear.

“It was a beautiful day, Bette and Lorraine are so smart.  I learned more from those two in one day than I could probably learn in a lifetime on my own.  I like Bette and I think we’re going to try to meet up for coffee again before I go.”  He grabbed her hand and they walked into the dining room.

“Tell me all about it.”

---***---

Maxwell wasn’t sure what woke him up, but he lurched out of a dead sleep and sat up in bed.  The room was quiet, and his clock told him that it was early in the morning, hours before he had to get up.  What could have possibly triggered this, he wondered.  It was then that he realized that he was alone in bed and when he saw the bathroom light off and the door open, he was confused.  

Getting up, he threw on a shirt and walked out into the hallway, the faint late October chilliness permeated the house and creeped along his skin.  A gleam of light from the first floor caught his eye and he descended the stairs, entering the living room where he saw her on the couch.

Evie sat curled up at the end, a book in her hands.  He recognized it the title and his heart clenched a little because it had been his father’s favorite, although she could have never known that.  As he got closer, he noticed that she was sleeping, with little snores coming out of her slightly opened mouth.  The lamp light made her hair look like burnished copper and once again, his heart squeezed at the sight of her, that feeling that she belonged all the stronger.

He leaned down and brushed her hair away from her face, the movement causing her to stir.  Her eyes opened and she gave a sleepy smile when she saw who it was.  She sat up from the slumped over position, her body grumbling at being in such an uncomfortable position for too long, already upset with her after her long day in the city.  He smiled back at her.

“Evie, what are you doing?  It’s two in the morning.”  He squatted next to the couch, picking up the book after it slid off her lap and setting it on the coffee table.

“I wasn’t tired, and I didn’t want to bother you, so I came down to read here instead.”  He laughed as her comments were punctuated by a yawn.  He wondered how long she had been sleeping instead of reading.

“You wouldn’t have.  Come to bed.” He stood, reaching his hand out to her.

“Okay.”  She stood and swayed at the sudden movement, reaching out with her other hand to grip his to stay upright.  Once she stopped swaying, he bent his knees and swept Evie up into his arms, her look of surprise clear on her face.

“Max!  I can walk! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Yeah, but it’ll be fun.”  He lightly kissed her temple as he turned around and began taking her upstairs.  “Besides, I’ve already carried you upstairs, what’s one more time?”

She laughed but gripped his shoulders harder just in case.  They entered the bedroom and Maxwell gently laid her down on the bed. He leaned down to kiss her on the lips, but her hands grabbed him and pulled him down on top of her.  She wrapped her hands around his waist and reached her head up to return the kiss.

“I’m too heavy for you.”  He tried to roll off, but she tightened her arms.

“You’re never too heavy for me.”  She snuggled further under him, his bulk like a weighted blanket.  He threw her a skeptical look but didn’t move.  If anything, he curled around her more, their mutual warmth seeping into each other.  Evie’s eyes began to droop, and she tried to hide a yawn in his shoulder but failed.

“Just go to sleep sunshine, you had a long day.”  She hummed as her eyes closed and before long, the sound of her even breaths reached Maxwell’s ears.  He waited a few beats longer before rolling off her and to her side. She seemed to chase him in her sleep, also rolling onto her side to face him, although she never woke up.  

He gave into the temptation of touching her again, brushing her hair away from her face and the silky strands seem to pass through his fingers like water. He trailed them along her jaw, skin soft under his touch.  As he laid there, his brain wandered back to his comments earlier in the day and he closed his eyes, shame washing over him.

There was no reason for him to have acted that way and to make her feel so small and hurt.  And he rolled on to his back, staring at the ceiling.  He mentally kicked himself for acting like such an ass to her and then never apologizing for it.  You never apologize when you act like an ass, a small voice in his head reminded him and he could feel his face on fire.  He looked over at her.  He should have apologized to her.

You shouldn’t have been such a dick in the first place.  It’s not like you’re actually dating or anything, the voice inside his head reminded him.  It’s not like you ever want more from them.  Maxwell looked back up at the ceiling.

He wanted more from her, though.

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x oc #maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic #ww1984 #Wonder Woman 1984

[heksesang]

Hey! If you have the time, could I have a slasher match-up? I’m a 21 y/o gal with black hair, and brown eyes; I’m 5’4 and a little on the chubby side. I’m currently studying forensic science (irl murderers Perish challenge) , but I also like theatre and video games. I’m an ISTP and an aries- I’m pretty pragmatic, charismatic, and friendly, but I do prefer to be by myself to recharge my batteries. I have anxiety and depression, but I’m getting better! Tysm and have a good day/night!

Can I just say that ever since I got this I’ve been thinking about you describing forensics science as “irl murderers perish challenge” because it’s also what I’m about to study.

Billy Lenz

This may not seem like match but personally I think the forensic science aspect would be hugely intriguing to him

The idea that you study people like him? Instant big brain moment and big heart moment

Billy goes buck daft for girls with a bit of meat on them tbh, he loves it.

Do not, I repeat, do not introduce him to any sort of video game or else you’ll have to deal with a very very competitive man child throwing a tantrum anytime you beat him, glasses, plates; anything within reaching distance will be smashed in gamer rage

The whole recharging you batteries resonates with him because while he is high energy he always needs a few hours (sometimes a day or two) by himself to calm down and just feel grounded

If you do any type of acting in theatre please let him run lines with you, he may do horrendous voices and change the words but it makes him feel included and like Marlon Brando in the old movies he watches on the little tv

Really likes to plait hair, if your hair is long enough then he will go feral and plait it ( he is not good at it )

#match ups #billy lenz #black christmas 1974

[failtoplan]

Future Imperfect - On Capitalism, Technology and Ideology

Looking out from the 31st floor balcony, it doesn’t seem high until you look down. Shenzhen stretches 80 kilometres east to west, but is only 10 deep, North-South. The city snakes laterally, littorally, between the hills of the Hong Kong border, along  Shenzhen Bay to the Pearl River delta, like a badly kept concrete lawn, with clumps of seventy and eighty story towers sprouting like steel weeds. The 115 story Ping An Tower, the worlds 4th largest, the town’s own tall poppy. When night falls, the entire town lights up like a circuit board, streaming with steel and light. The immaculately kept, perpetually swept, cycle path along the Dasha river is filled with office workers on dockless rental bikes, hired by the half hour, headed to one of the city’s many tech clusters, downstream, deeper into Nanshan district. They’ve phased out almost all the old taxis, replaced with a fully electric fleet. The same for the buses. Pretty much every transaction, from street-corner noodles to legal fees are carried out with QR codes and digital wallets. Cashless, silent, sleek.

This is not ‘The Future’, but it is ‘A Future’. Two days a week I commute from Shenzhen to Hong Kong. The journey takes around an hour and a half, but the time travelled is greater than the distance covered. After getting stamped out of Mainland China and into Hong Kong at the vast Shenzhen Bay checkpoint, coaches and cars spiral up onto the five-and-a-half-kilometre bay bridge to cross over to the New Territories. As we roll up the overpass onto the bridge, the plaiting of concrete weaves carriageways from right-to-left and left-to-right. The first sign that they do things differently here. At least for now.

Hong Kong, like Tokyo, represents a certain obsolete near-future in the collective imagination. Having had its image and form repeatedly appropriated by Hollywood as a stand-in for numerous dystopias, the familiarity can make it seem almost underwhelming. Hong Kong looks exactly like ‘Hong Kong’ - a trait it shares with New York. It also feels like yesterday’s vision of tomorrow. The stuttering neon signs and diesel-streaked streets, PoMo towers and marble-lined lobbies are a particularly sharp contrast with Shenzhen’s unironic modernity. From its peak in 1993, Hong Kong has declined from twenty-seven to less than three percent of China’s GDP. But beyond the numbers, it feels like a city in decline. Slowly, megaprojects such as the Hong Kong-Macao-Zhuhai bridge and the China High-speed Rail Link are stitching the territory together with the mainland, bringing Hong Kong’s greatest fear ever-closer, becoming just another mid-sized Chinese city. With the perceived erosion of its Rule of law, the Special Administrative Region has become a contested space. The acute confrontation over the ‘two systems’ principle, is also representative of a bigger conflict between two ideas. Two visions of what the future could be.

Words can be problematic; they are both the obstacle to articulating a thought and the best way to try. This clash of ideas, in which Hong Kong is just one front, isn’t easily reduced to opposing pairs as the Cold War once was. Capitalism’s ‘victory’ over Communism was always an artificial, lexigraphic binary that pitted an economic system against a total political, social and economic order. ‘Capitalism’ is synecdochic, an easy shorthand for ‘democratic capitalism’ and the free and limited, markets, open societies and shared small-L liberal consensus regarding the primacy of the individual. Democratic Capitalism is Limited Capitalism. And it was ‘Limited Capitalism’ that ‘won’. The front line crossed by the arcing span of the Shenzhen Bay Bridge is not the battle between capitalism and communism. Socialism with Chinese characteristics is Capitalism unencumbered by Democracy. It is the front  line between Total and Limited Capitalism.

Limited Capitalism was never an outright winner, but in its rhetoric, it strived to achieve the illusion of permanence. The rights of the individual – the societal sidekick to the economic superhero - has never been inevitable and maybe not even natural. Increasingly this relic of our post-Enlightenment experiments feels like a humanistic blip. In the face of Brexit and Trump, Bolsanaro and Orban, I have found myself increasingly having to defend the ‘pragmatism of the primacy of the individual’ to friends not just in Singapore and Shanghai, but Boston and Berlin. Yes, it is the freedom to screw up, but it is also the freedom not to be screwed with.

When measured in terms of human development Limited Capitalism has been a great success. But ‘Capitalist Democracy’ is a productive tension, not a synonymic pair. Capitalism privileges results, Democracy, the process. One is fast, the other is slow. The market is majoritarian, while the democratic enshrines the individual, not merely responsible to a simple majority. This makes elections, perversely, the least important aspect of a democracy. Limited Capitalism is an uneasy hybrid. You are free to consume, you are free to participate, but the between the two there is no equivalence. The human flourishing this has propagated cannot be measured by statistics alone. It is this tension that universalised the franchise, enshrined judicial independent and – aspirationally -declared Universal Human Rights. Less tangibly and more significantly it gives each of us a hope of genuine human dignity and all of us some faith in a societal-level trust. Maybe it was easier to win hearts and minds in the late 20th century with Right to Buy than the Rights of Man, but failing to promote the civil alongside the economic conflates consumption with participation, creating the opportunity for Total Capitalism.

-- Shenzhen’s subway tunnels are lined with motion-synced LED screens that animate adverts outside the carriage windows selling pizza and pet food station to station. My connected TV won’t switch on without first showing me a short film promoting the latest toilet paper or plastic surgery procedure. Pop-up ads and promotions are a pervasive part of every single product or service, physical or virtual that I use. Upsell, cross-sell, resell. The imperative to consume is everywhere, the Chinese Dream constantly reinforced as the route to individualisation and self-actualisation. Judged by the old Communist clichés of a “decadent West,” focussed on temerarious consumption, contemporary China is the most “western” place I have ever lived or been. One where I am no more and no less than the sum of my purchases. I buy therefore I am.

At the same time deep integration of seamless technology has evolved a new species of human as consumer, Homo Emptus. The local branch of KFC lets me buy a Family Bucket with nothing more than my face, using cameras linked directly to my virtual wallet which holds my credit cards and fictive cash. Recently I was walking through the precinct by my block, when a young woman ran up to me, apologising. Her cleaner’s phone had stopped receiving transfers and she didn’t have the cash to pay. Did I have any? Pulling a handful of 100 yuan notes out of my pocket, she pulled out her phone, scanned my wallet and transferred me the 300 kuai which I had in cash. In less than a minute I had become a human ATM. It was demeaning and thrilling at the same time, I imagine not dissimilar to the excitement felt by the freshly humiliated submissive.

Sometimes living here can feel like magic. But if you only immerse in the wonder, you miss the cost. Recently, a group of cyclists in Shanghai rode past a police officer, stopped by the side of the road, deep in an animated discussion with the driver they had just pulled over. The group, aware the policeman was otherwise occupied, slowly rolled through the red signal ahead, traffic light on a quiet Saturday morning. Fifteen minutes later by the time they had reached their café stop and pulled out their phones to pay, they had all been fined. Facial recognition cameras mounted on top of the police car had ID-ed them and then allowed the officer digitally ensure justice was done. When we are defined only by our consumption, this make complete sense, our economic life is simply ‘life’, giving the state unprecedented control in return for our convenience. Seamlessness may be fast, but to protect Limited Capitalism, we need seams.

The reality is though that our willingness to conflate commercial choice with civil freedoms has makes it easy for us to walk backwards into Total Capitalism. Using ‘Capitalism’ as a shorthand for so long has meant a lack of focus on the social and political dimensions that has allowing the market to perform as a poor stand-in for the whole. This has led to declining trust in the very institutions that underpin both our societal freedom and our consumer choice. The recent World Values Survey shows a minority in both Europe and the US of people born after 1970 believe it is ‘essential to live in a democracy.’ If this is the case then we have collectively failed to remind ourselves what ‘democracy’ really entails. It has also led to the bizarre inversion for many on the neoliberal right who see any democratic limit placed on the market as ‘undemocratic’

The rising indifference to the democratic can be seen in part as a consequence of Limited Capitalism’s success. Just as a fish does not know that it is wet, we take for granted the protections afforded the individual. We have collectively and systemically failed to remind ourselves of the importance of the water we all swim in. Political leaders and populist demagogues who owe their very existence to the small L liberalism that underpins Limited Capitalism have failed to give credit, choosing instead to pee in the pond for short term gain. Taking our collective socio-political foundations for granted has led to their erosion. Ignoring them has also reduced the success of a state to its economy alone. Whilst freedom of speech won’t feed my children, GDP won’t make them happier or more morally rich. This tyranny of the economic means that states which favour the fast and the outcome will be judged the best performing, outshining those that optimise for the slow, the process, the individual. By judging a state by its economy rather than their humanity, we set up a framework in which the Total Capitalism is not only increasingly easy to admire, but objectively ‘better’, with no way to quantify its glaring qualitative flaws. The fallacy that our economic lives are an adequate stand-in for our civic ones provides the ideological misdirection to pull the trick off. Only what is counted is valued.

Total Capitalism, by succeeding on these terms, promotes a worrying model of growth and unfreedom, chipping away at the old liberal consensus. As pervasive technologies allow ever-greater accumulation of information, we are reaching an inflection point, two divergent versions of how this data is used and its implications for how we live. Progress marches an there is a decision to be made, inaction is not possible. A battle that is waged by only one side, even one of ideas, is not without bloodshed; it is a massacre.

Unencumbered by the limits that the state apparatus of Limited Capitalism places on it, technology can quickly become dystopian. The Limited Capitalist model is not just a check on economic entities – as the EU has proved with its fines on Google and Microsoft - but also on governments. And it adds an implicit societal dimension to the economic role. When Apple refused to provide a back door to iPhone for the FBI, it was asserting its social responsibility, not just its economic function. It helped that these two impulses were congruent here, but the difference between that and the case of the Shanghai cyclists is stark. Tencent, makers of the ubiquitous WeChat Wallet in question, were doing nothing wrong by allowing the state to pick pockets; they were fulfilling their duty, legally obliged to do so in the People’s Republic. The FBI’s response to Apple’s refusal was that American lives might be lost, but people died enshrining the rights Apple was upholding. Do we still believe the defence of the individual is worth dying for?

It would be worth asking that question to the millions of minority Muslims constantly surveilled, or interred in camps in Xinjiang. Advanced monitoring technologies, sharpened to scalpel-like precision, have created an unprecedented digital panopticon. The whole region is monitored at a level of detail that previously would have taken vast armies of watchers and handlers. Now instead, the state has the ability to micromanage human life at a macroscale;  facial recognition, device tracking and digital monitoring turn an entire country-sized region into a prison colony. Xinjiang is not just a tragedy though; it is a testbed. China has rolled the same systems across the entirety of its domestic train network as well as at every airport, port and major public area. More disturbingly, it is a showroom for the implementation of its own particular strain of Total Capitalism. A sinister demonstration of how to unshackle the market from democracy, providing economic liberation whilst maintaining total control. For parts of the world that were previously faced with the choice between an all-inclusive version of modernity, open society and all, China offers an alluring alternative, a cake-and-eat-it model powered by pervasive technologies and financed by Belt and Road loans. And it is one that has succeeded by our own ‘Capitalist’ yardstick.

Total Capitalism is by no means inevitable, and its vision of the future not the only one. Technology is neutral and can be used co-opted for community as well as commerciality. The liberal limits within Liberal, Democratic, Limited Capitalism have allowed it to do both. But our willingness to collapse the social, political and economic into one big flat now have left us at a critical juncture. Hong Kong’s fight is an imperfect allegory for the decision that we need to make about what we should measure and what really matters, particularly in the developed world. We cannot take for granted what we already have. An era is only named after it has long passed. It is up to us to decide if we are to witness the end of this one.

[houseki-no-suffering]

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Human AU, 1960s AU Characters: Cinnabar/Phosphophyllite, Diamond, Euclase, Bort, Alex, Yellow

A/N: in which we meet the other half of Cinnabar’s not quite huge friend’s list. Ty so much to @lapishead for betareading my commas away and to @rinboz​ for her help with Bort’s character. Enjoy!

The thought of going home and accidentally stumbling into Phos on the way persuaded Cinnabar to linger on the beach. They hadn’t meant to, but at a certain point their body surrendered to exhaustion and they fell asleep on the sand, crouched against one of the boats that the fishermen left on the shore. It was their voices that woke Cinnabar up, a little before dawn, and Cinnabar would have apologized profusely if their mind wasn’t still absorbed by other thoughts.

Now that the realization had sunk in, Cinnabar felt even more lost. They tried to come up with alternatives as the town grew nearer, a blur of sparse lights and white buildings. The only thing they felt absolutely sure about was that they wanted to shut themselves in their new home until Phos had left again. With nothing to do except overthink and go through old textbooks, they would graduate in no time if this went on long enough.

Cinnabar was worrying their third cup of coffee in their hands when they accepted that their fingers would not stop shaking just because they were safe in the confined space of Bort’s bedroom. And an excess of caffeine hardly had something to do with it. Outside or inside, it made no difference: their mind would not stop working.

They remembered so many mornings lazily spent on Diamond’s bed when Phos was fourteen. Bort would be crouched at the foot of the bed, holding a book, and Dia would braid their hair in complicated plaits, trying out every trick they had gleaned from being around Red Beryl. They would hum and sing as they ran their fingers through Bort’s hair, and Cinnabar would listen quietly, curled up on their own bed.

It was always so peaceful and silent. Cinnabar would keep their eyes closed, pretending to sleep while waiting for Phos to wake up. The ungracious sound of their feet running through the corridor was hard to miss, but Cinnabar would have traded high school one hundred times more just to hear it.

Yellow Diamond had warned them against easy decisions, and Cinnabar could blame no one but themselves for obsessing over someone that had considered Cinnabar temporary. And yet, every foggy morning spent waiting for the train, every hour spent sitting on hard desks, surrounded by people Cinnabar did not know and didn’t want to know, left a dull, cold ache in Cinnabar’s chest. The taste of wasting time that could otherwise been spent in selfish, childish ways.  

The light that filtered through the shutters of Bort’s room was suddenly eerily similar to how the sun would caress Cinnabar’s old room at the dormitory, just a moment before Phos walked into the room to snuggle beside them. The wallpaper too was similar, with its peachy, little flowers: the more Cinnabar looked at it, the more alike it became. If they closed their eyes, their mind would make Cinnabar believe that Phos could burst in the room at any moment.

Cinnabar’s fingers clutched the cup tightly, almost spilling its contents. They needed to talk with someone.

They ran their eyes around the room, looking for an excuse not to do it. Their gaze was met by cardboard boxes and clothes, half-read books and scribbled papers. Along with the white ceiling, their newly-moved in possessions had started to judge Cinnabar’s unpacking plans, or lack thereof. It was too much work just for the sake of running away from anxiety.

Cinnabar ran a hand through their hair, debated about washing it when their fingers hit a snag in the middle, discarded even this task as too demanding, stared at the wall for a solid minute and then stood up. They walked to the telephone and placed the handset to their ear to make a call. Their chest was thumping. They truly hoped that Bort would answer because Cinnabar did not know if they could muster enough desperation to call them again later.

The mid-ranged pitch of the dial tone filled Cinnabar’s ears as they waited for the Naval Academy’s secretary to connect the call to their friend. Cinnabar held their breath, their fingers torturing the telephone’s cord. Bort was the kind of person to be home on a Sunday morning, but what did Cinnabar know.

“Yes?” and then Bort’s voice reached Cinnabar from the other side of the country and Shinsha felt guilty for being so annoying and insecure, but they still let out a breath of relief.

“It’s me…”

“Shinsha? Something’s up?”

“No, how’re you doing? How’s school there?”

“It’s okay. Tight schedule.”

Of course it would be; some people dared make plans for the future and then work to make them a reality.

“Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I’m here to learn.”

“Okay.”

“So, what’s up?”

“What’s up with what?” Cinnabar twisted the cord around their finger once more. Their grip was so tight it almost hurt.

“You calling. Is it Dia? Are they… okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.”

“Good.”

A couple of seconds was all it would take Bort to inquire about Cinnabar again, so they forced themselves to keep talking.

“I moved in.”

“Oh, good. How did it go?”

“Good, yeah, it’s fine.”

“Clean up every other day, you promised.”

Ugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I’m coming back for my birthday.”

“Fine, I’ll try.”

“Good.”

A few seconds elapsed and Bort’s pragmatism focused its attention back before Cinnabar could pile up the courage to hang up the phone.

“Something’s up,” they pronounced their verdict.

“Nothing’s up.”

“You wouldn’t call if nothing’s up.”

“Well, I just did.”

“I can drag it out of you, I don’t mind.”

Suddenly the thought of speaking with Bort only to have someone agree with them was no longer that appealing. Cinnabar stayed silent for a few seconds, still debating whether to tell their friend or not. Then they pushed the words past their lips.

“Guess who’s back…”

“What?”

“Back. Guess who’s back after five fucking years.”

“Wh-“ a pause, the time for Bort’s voice to betray emotion, “for real?”

“Yeah.”

“What do they want? Did you talk?”

“Hell if I know, and no, we didn’t and it’s great this way.”

“Are they out of their mind? Was Antarc there?”

There was a line of disbelief in the way Bort pronounced Antarcticite’s name. Back then, they had taken a strong liking to Antarc’s interests and it was Antarc who had inspired them to pursue a career in the military. While Bort had still judged biased Phos’ rushed choices, they had never been able to be angry at Antarc for what happened. As much as they were trying to keep their interest in check for Cinnabar’s sake, it still showed.

“Euc says they’re alone. I don’t know, I don’t wanna know.”

The line went silent once more. Cinnabar could hear the gears turning in Bort’s mind as their younger friend thought of something worth saying, settling for the simple efficiency of silence when nothing valuable came up. Bort was the person you turned to when you needed a swift solution, not comfort, but Cinnabar’s list of friends was thin.

“Are you okay?” they finally asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel. I shouldn’t even feel anything, it’s just… Phos-level bullshit all over again, why should I care... I know where this is going, it’s always the same, it’s stupid, and I don’t wanna- but I still do… I still care anyway. Like, it’s affecting me, I’m stupid. Please tell me I shouldn’t care, hit me with a stick or something.”

“Don’t self-deprecate your way out of this. What’s exactly the problem?”

“Phos is my problem!”

“Shinsha!”

Cinnabar pinched the bridge of their nose, feeling older and more bitter than their years. The exhaustion from a night spent outdoors like an emotionally wrecked vagrant was washing over them in waves of anger and disillusion, leaving Cinnabar more drained each time it pulled back.

“It’s my fault,” they murmured, “I’m afraid. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I still… I think about it cause I’m stupid and now they’re back, like… it’s them again. They’re right here. What do you think they want? Do they wanna talk? Why now? How dare they… and it’s my fault because I’m still thinking about it, I just… I wish they’d go away. I wish they’d disappear, that I’d disappear, I don’t wanna see where this is going.”

“You don’t owe them anything, Shinsha. Ignore them. They didn’t even apologize. I don’t want you to be caught up in that again. Just leave them be.”

“Isn’t that childish?”

“Phos is childish. They up and leave and now they’re back. They’re unreliable.”

“But what if there’s a reason, why do you think they came back?”

“Because they’re bored. Probably not even Antarc could stand it. They played their little games, messed something up so now they come back like a kicked puppy. And they’re still arrogant about it.”

“Yeah…” this too was familiar. Bort’s rage, the way they described Phos, Phos’ mistakes. The remnants of some old instinct were telling Cinnabar they should defend Phos and Cinnabar almost did because Bort was being harsh, fueling Cinnabar’s desire for anger to the point of spilling it- and Cinnabar was unprepared to deal with the excess of emotion. It left a bitter taste in their mouth.

“They leave, they disappear, they come back. Don’t let this get to your head, you did nothing wrong.”

“Okay.”

“And I… I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Cinnabar nodded, as if Bort could see them from the other side of the phone and of the country. They sounded like a numb, obedient puppy and it was so pathetic that they were tempted to hang the phone again and spare Bort the spectacle.

“Alright. I’ll send you my timetable, pass it around. Just don’t call me when I’m busy. Especially Euc. I can’t spend all my time at the phone.”

“Don’t worry.”

“I’m coming back for my birthday, I have a leave. I can show you the uniform…”

“Cool, I’d love that.”

The line went silent for a moment, leaving Bort the time to recover from the embarrassment of opening up.

“Ask Dia to help you clean up, they’re better than you at least.”

“Thanks.”

“Talk to you soon.”

“See ya,” and, with a click, Bort hung up and the line went silent again. It took Cinnabar a moment to realize that they had been left with the burden of dropping the news that Bort would be visiting to Dia.

They let themselves fall on the bed with a loud groan, feeling the first pangs of a headache crawling their way through Cinnabar’s consciousness. They could always hope that one worry would drive away the other.

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #hnk #cinnaphos #cinnabar #phosphophyllite #bort #fic tag #1960s au

[mehoymalloy]

The Pomegrante Scene - Aloy/Tilda

Allow me to be very self-indulgent for a moment. I started writing a few months ago because this scene popped into my head, and I finally got the chance to slip it in to a story. It's a big trope, I know, but it holds a special place in my heart, dammit.

Here's an excerpt from Chapter 6 of Prometheus Bound, just the full scene in all it's cringe (affectionate) glory.

Aloy and Tilda share a pomegranate together. That's it. That's the scene. Enjoy (or don't).

Sometime later, Tilda was busy packing items away and tidying up the space. Her mats, which had been haphazardly piled together in her little corner, vaguely resembling a nest, were now neatly stacked—she likely would not be able to sleep tonight, even if she could benefit from the rest. Just as Tilda began cleaning off the countertop, her door opened with a hiss. She glanced up at the intrusion, a tight but curious smile quirking her lip, pausing mid-motion as she reached to place a pomegranate into a bowl with other various fruits.

“Oh, Aloy,” Tilda’s smile bloomed as she took her in, leaning against the doorframe, freshly washed hair pulled back and plaited into her signature braids, exhibiting a deeper auburn sheen than the usual sun-bleached red of her dry hair.

“What are you doing?” Aloy asked, eying her hands warily.

Tilda placed the bowl, previously propped on her hip, to the side but held on to the pomegranate, passing it between her hands, allowing the slightest hint of nerves to show. “Cleaning up,” she said, “You know, just in case.”

“In case...what?”

Tilda stepped forward, mildly surprised when Aloy moved to meet her halfway. “I’m nothing if not pragmatic, Aloy. In case I don’t come back.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Aloy said, practically snarled, and Tilda’s eyes widened at the sudden turn. Then, surprising her again, Aloy plucked the fruit directly from her hand, as if that alone made it final. Definitive. Tilda would absolutely be returning to the base because Aloy had stopped her from placing a pomegranate in a bowl with the rest.

Tilda smirked as she gestured toward the fruit, noting the way Aloy gripped it a tad too firmly. “You know,” she murmured, playful but soothing, “taking that does not negate the fact that I could very well die tomorrow. There’s nothing wrong with facing that.”

Aloy looked like she wanted to chuck the pomegranate at her head. “Don’t be so dramatic,” she muttered. “We’re all going to be fine.”

Tilda hummed softly, silently conceding as she reached out and delicately pried the fruit from her grasp. “Do you even like pomegranates?” she asked, hoping a change in topic might improve the mood. Glancing up, Tilda noticed a flush slowly creeping across Aloy’s cheeks. “What?” she prompted as Aloy’s gaze flitted away awkwardly.

“Uh, I think so?” She still wouldn’t look at her.

“You think so?” Tilda pressed, “I wouldn’t exactly call the flavor profile complex.”

Sighing, Aloy met Tilda’s curious gaze with a decidedly disgruntled one, chin tilted up testily, offering a lovely view of that blush as it spread further down her neck. “When I took that other one,” she said, words rushing out, “I tried to peel it open by the little nub at the top but I sort of”—she paused, evidently embarrassed—“crushed it,” she finally muttered.

Tilda couldn’t help it. She really could not stop herself. Her confused smile grew into a smirk and then into a grin until a snort escaped her. Like a dam breaking, a chuckle followed, and then an almost full-bellied laugh. She was trying desperately not to stretch her wounded cheek, so the sound came out strange, bursting from her chest but strangled in her throat.

“Don’t laugh,” Aloy admonished, “how was I supposed to know it was mostly seeds?”

Tilda quickly calmed herself, smiling fondly as her shoulders shook with lingering amusement. Aloy glared at her, not even bothering to hide her pout.

Tilda wiped any trace of teasing from her expression, then offered Aloy a warm smile, one that always came easy with her, “I could always show you?”

Aloy merely raised an eyebrow, blush slowly fading as they moved on.

“Here,” Tilda held the fruit out, “do you have a knife you could cut this in half with?”

Aloy swiped the pomegranate from her, strode to the common room, then returned a moment later with the same paring knife Tilda had used earlier when cutting vegetables.

With her back toward Tilda, Aloy held the fruit against the countertop and deftly sliced it in two, then she turned and held out one half, studying the contents of the other as she leaned back against the edge.

“Now,”—Tilda took the proffered fruit—“while the peel and the flesh are technically edible, they’re also bitter, so I wouldn’t recommend it,” she said, tracing her nail along a vein of white membrane as it twisted and curved between pockets of ruby red seeds.

“The seeds are called arils, and this is what you want to eat.” She dug three fingers into the fruit, demonstrating how to scoop them up. “Alas, there is no neat way to eat a pomegranate, at least not without a spoon.” Then she popped the arils into her mouth, holding the back of her hand against her lips to catch any juice.

After watching her, Aloy plucked only a few to taste. As soon as Tilda heard the crunch of seeds bursting open, Aloy’s eyes widened slightly, and she hummed as she dug in for more, undeterred by the messy process. “This is really good,” she murmured between closed lips as she chewed.

Tilda simply watched, mesmerized as a bright red drop of juice rolled down her hand. 

Aloy glanced up as she tossed more arils into her mouth, snatching one that bounced off her lip before it could plummet to the floor, “aren’t you going to eat any more?”

Tilda’s gaze flickered back to her own fruit, mind struggling to catch up, “Yes, of course.” She dug in with a bit more poise, careful to chew only on the right side of her mouth, well away from her tender cheek.

Aloy studied her intently, eating slowly now. Tilda smiled tightly, vaguely unnerved, and swallowed harshly, diligently gathering up more seeds as she kept her cool gaze locked on Aloy’s, unsure what exactly she was afraid of conceding to if she looked away first. 

Aloy suddenly broke their impromptu staring contest when she flicked her tongue out to catch that drop of juice as it dribbled down her wrist.

Tilda nearly choked. In fact, desperate to stifle the sound waiting at the back of her throat, she shoved the entire scoop of seeds into her mouth, fingers and all, trying to stop the juice from running down her hand the same way she would as a child.

At that moment, Aloy’s gaze returned to hers, glancing up from below her lashes, and she froze. Tilda pulled her fingers from her mouth, and she watched, mesmerized once again, as a blush bright enough to rival the fruit rushed across Aloy’s skin, up to her ears and down her neck all over again.

Aloy did choke. She sputtered as she inhaled too quickly, flailing to catch a few seeds that had fallen. Then she averted her gaze, staring resolutely to the side as she dragged the back of her hand roughly across her lips, still missing some of the mess.

As was so often the case these days, Tilda did not truly consider her next move; she simply acted. Perhaps emboldened by Aloy’s blatant fluster, Tilda transferred the fruit to her messy hand, then reached out with the clean one. When her fingertips barely brushed her jaw, Aloy tensed, startled gaze snapping back to Tilda’s own. 

Smiling soothingly, Tilda used her thumb to gently wipe a trail of juice from her chin up to the corner of her lip. She had every intention of immediately pulling away. 

But perhaps unconsciously, as if to catch the ghost of a mess that was no longer there, Aloy darted her tongue out, and it softly brushed against the pad of her thumb.

Tilda could not hold back the sound that escaped her then. Her gasp was soft, but Aloy drew in a ragged breath. Tilda pressed her hand more firmly against Aloy’s jaw, as if that might help steady her. 

Aloy looked a little lost, maybe even frightened, and Tilda absolutely had to stop. This was too far. Aloy clearly wasn’t ready for this, and frankly, neither was Tilda. It felt almost... wrong to allow this, knowing where they would be tomorrow. Despite the bubbling warmth in her stomach, her racing heart and short-circuiting brain, Tilda did not push. She did not indulge. 

Instead, she reluctantly let her hand fall away, conceding the slightest bit by allowing her thumb to drag across Aloy’s bottom lip on its descent. 

Aloy visibly shivered and clenched her eyes shut for a short moment. When she opened them again, her gaze was determined despite her obvious embarrassment. 

“Uh,” her voice came out hoarse, and she had to clear her throat to continue. “Yeah, I like pomegranates.” Then she tensed, likely cringing at her poor recovery.

Despite her own less-than-composed demeanor, Tilda smirked. Small victories, as it were. 

Aloy couldn’t quite handle that. Gripping her fruit harshly, she rushed for the door, offering a clipped “I’m going to check on Zo,” as she tried to flee.

“Wait!” Tilda spun, grabbing Aloy’s wrist to stop her. When she whipped back around and shot her a weak glare, Tilda dropped her hand immediately. “Please, I have something for you,” she rushed to explain, holding her hands up in supplication, “but it’s outside, in the garden; I need to get it.”

At the very least, Aloy’s confusion helped her overcome her embarrassment. “What?”

“It’s a surprise,” Tilda said, earnest and pleading, “it will only take a moment, I assure you.”

Aloy raised an eyebrow, then glanced down at her hand—her strangling grasp had caused more juice to run, staining the tanned leather of her long sleeve. “Okay, well,” she fought to forge on, “I’m going to go clean up; you can come to my room.” Her eyes widened slightly, perhaps balking at the unintentional implications, but she didn’t bother to backtrack. She just turned and marched toward the bathroom, discarding her fruit on the main counter as she passed it.

As I said, indulgent as fuck, and I loved writing it lol

#aloy/tilda #aloy x tilda #tilda van der meer #fanfiction #fanfic #horizon forbidden west #hfw

[seashellofthecrag]

♥ & ☼

♥ - family headcanon

Jeyne is her father’s favorite and has been since the day she was born. She was always more interested in healing and learning and it did not take much coercion for Gawen Westerling to allow Jeyne her books and her sessions with the maester. He is the one she misses most as she travels with the Ironborn. 

☼ - appearance headcanon

Since she has been with the Ironborn, who value pragmatism over flashiness, her wardrobe has become much simpler. Jeyne often wears more practical fabrics with her dresses more practically cut. However, in addition to her golden seashell pendant, she allows herself one more piece of ornamentation -- her hair. Jeyne’s long chestnut hair is plaited each morning in the Southern style, with intricate braids that often wind around each other. It is, perhaps, more vain than she normally allows herself to appear, but she cannot bring herself to give it up. 

#{ meme: response }

[lovemagics]

Spells for outlandish love. It is safe to say that you are searching for spells for unthinkable love? Do you like somebody and don’t know how to state it? You like that man however even takes a gander at you? Cherishing a man who does not feel the same as us might be tragic and in some cases agonizing.In the event that right now you are experiencing this circumstance and need to discover the answer for this issue of love spells, in this article I will give you simple spells and intense that you take to your unthinkable love.You need to recollect on this site notwithstanding these spells, you can discover several binds of adoration to discover sentiment, for it accommodates with an ex or to enhance the relationship, Spells for outlandish love just matter of pursuit and pick the spell that most fits your necessities.Ties for an unimaginable love.Spells for outlandish loveFor individuals who are new to spells for affection and now you are thinking about whether these spells or customs will return them to making them, Spells for outlandish love I need to state that NO, these ties are not returned given they don’t hurt.Be that as it may, as with any adoration spell ought to be utilized with mind and not ought to be taken as a straightforward amusement.The materials that will be utilized will be:Incense stays with possessing a scent reminiscent of rosesSpells for outlandish loveA little red or pink lightRed fleece or stringMethod:Numerous specialists suggest doing circles of security before you start the custom, by and by just the utilization when pragmatic ceremonies of high enchantment, Spells for outlandish love for this sort of home spells don’t see it essential.Be that as it may, on the off chance that you do you can draw them with chalk, sand, or lime and do the spells of affection inside them.Candlelight, make sure to utilize little sails, with the flame you turn a wand of incense, is found in smoke that discharge to your unthinkable love frankincense, take the fleece or string and part or cut three equivalent pieces.With these three bits of fleece to influence a mesh, to plait ought to be the most ideal, while doing interlace looks thinking individual and want, showed his face, his eyebrows, his hair, feels his scent and showed close to that individual cheerful minutes.When you influence the twist to end it with nine bunches, consequently leaving a twist with 9 ties, these bunches ought to be fixed firmly so you don’t dispose of, the mesh must place it to your left side lower leg and left there until the point when it drops one.In the event that inevitably you trouble you-you can expel it and plant it in a pot with blossoms or in a garden, the power of the impacts accomplished with this custom of adoration will rely upon just you and that additionally do cheat it.Make sure to put all that adoration and friendship on the Plait when you’re doing it, so accomplish comes about nearly as justified, recall that you can likewise discover more spells for an unimaginable love on this page.

[noirrest]

JAMIE, a fox-snake beastman who never seems to be quite there. he's a little out of his head, but who isn't?

HI-ME. JAMIE. not jame-ee. he hates it when people mispronounce his name.

[ picrew link ! ]

meet jamie, a man who spends more of his time baked out of his mind in order to stay in the right mental state rather than on the ground.

name

jamie ratta, but he tells people to call him juju to prevent people from mispronouncing his name

age

eighteen

birthday

09/30

zodiac

libra

place of birth

jubilee port

dormitory

scarabia

gender

male

pronouns

he/they

appearance variations

jamie's tail is able to thin at will, the texture becoming more scale-like. it also happens without his knowledge when threatened.

he has severe anxiety which lead to jamie constantly biting his nails. his friends began painting them in order to keep him from biting them, but he ended up liking it quite a lot. they can mostly be seen as a light blue color with white tips.

it's not rare to see jamie with some shades on his face during class. it's best not to let the teachers know you almost smoked a pack before class starts.

he has thick, curly hair that can often be found straightened or blown out in braids. his arms are to weak to take care of it himself so he usually pays someone to do it.

jamie is of a scrawny build, but he still does have some meat on him.

outfit variations

everything about jamie's clothing style is messy. his uniform. his ceremonial robes. hell, even his pajamas are messy. he isn't one for anything proper thanks to his upbringing, but he'll put on something nice when the occasional calls for it and he cares enough.

jamie only wears the button-up and pants, wrapping the armband around his thigh. he doesn't like how tightly the vest fits or how limited his movement is in the jacket. whenever he gets cold, it's not uncommon to see his wandering around in one of kiburi's sweaters or hoodies. his hair is styled in marley twists, leaving it down for the most part.

another one who doesn't wear the dorm uniform! he much prefers the comfort of his cropped hoodies and basketball shorts to keep him from feeling overheated. his hair is usually up in a curly, messy bun.

jamie wears the jumpsuit, yes.. but not the top. he keeps the shorts and shins connected, leaving them as pants while the upper part goes around his waist. beneath that he's just shirtless. his hair is usually tied back or in plaits.

height

5'8"

172cm

personality

though jamie can be a bit air-headed at all times, that doesn't mean he can't pull back and sober up when he needs to.

jamie is an ambivert, only really pulling away from the fluff of his tail when something really interests him or if he gets tired of something sounding dumb.

he's not a violent boy, often going about things with feather like touches and an unspoken softness.. but his way of speaking makes it sound like he's looking for a fight.

jamie is blunt and pragmatic whenever he's sober while giggly and light-hearted when he's not. when he is high, he can be found stepping around the truth like one of those wise i-know-all characters.

jamie isn't the social butterfly that his brother is and can be seen sticking to his small group of favored people. if he does talk to anyone outside of it: expect trouble!

unique magic

“dig a little deeper!”

the user is able to gain the abilities to see one's true self and their ambitions.

#🐍 — the voodoo hybrid #bc im me he's a snake-fox hybrid but he didn't discover the snake part until after he was adopted #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #based off of juju from princess and the frog

[braziliandeepwavelacefrontw-blog]

Hair Extensions, The Secret To Beautiful Hair Extensions

Hair Extensions, only think, spend a couple of hours at the salon and you may have long hair which looks like a fantasy. Hair extensions may contribute instantaneous length, quantity, thickness or highlights to your own hair in just a couple of hours.

Hair extensions started being practiced From the 1980s, but as a result of mediocre outcomes and fantastic expense, were abandoned till nearly five decades back. There are in reality hairpieces which could be secured to your natural hair or scalp plus they increase the depth of your hair or the span.

Knowing a bit about Hair extensions may spare you time and money, especially with the contrasting types and styles accessible in the present market. Nearly everyone prefers organic extensions that are human since they're generally easier to take good care of than many others out there.;

If You're Educated and familiar to purchase your extensions you will avert a good deal of the fundamental mistakes made together. Extensions may cost anywhere from hundreds to thousands of dollars, so it could be prudent to expend a few bucks to obtain some advice about them before placing out the big bucks. Never buy extensions until you have discovered all of the answers to your queries. Learn about all of the various hair extensions procedures before you get them, not following.

Hair extensions have Been in existence since early times. Ascertain whether hair extensions are right for you personally by coaching yourself until you get them. Extensions aren't a one time fits all. Maybe you have wondered, what exactly are clip-in hair extensions and how are they ensured. Clip-in extensions are perfect in case you'd like to convert your own hair into beautiful flowing locks super fast.

A lot folks turn to extensions to obtain that appearance that they 've always imagined. Along with the dandy issue is that extensions could be matched perfectly to your hair. Extensions are getting to be an increasingly more prevalent means of immediately getting that long lovely hair a couple people could only daydream of. They could afford you around twenty five inches of dense hair but a couple of hours. Extensions are perfect for metamorphosing dumpy hair to long hair, including bulk to thinning hair, creating out layers, a faulty haircut as well as imparting highlights and lowlights with no chemical processing.

Extensions Would be the exclusive method to have long and healthy looking hair with no actually growing it. Hair extensions are actually groovy for men and women that are considering growing their hair out into a long, sumptuous mop out of a helpless, schoolboyish fashion hair cut. During extensions, everyone will have the ability to acquire the distance of hair they wish whenever they need their hair to be extended and for just a couple of days. It follows people who have extensions do not have to be worried about the extensions maintenance in the long term.

Hair extensions call For binding organic man-made or human hair straight to your normal hair using among many unique processes. The extensions provide up a brand new,"looks like it grew out of your head" look that may quickly fix hair problems like a defective baldness, thinning hair or merely provide you long hair since you need it.

Extensions can be Genuine or man-made. Hair extensions are available in numerous different colours, textures, styles, and lengths. Most experts agree that natural human hair extensions are the best and most lifelike looking. This type of across-the-board range of natural human hair extensions are all available that hairstylists can quickly match the colour and feel of your hair with.

Regular extensions Have to be weaved, plaited, sewnglued that represents more of a committedness than a few people are ready to make. Attachable extensions are a transitory means to change your physical appearance, either for pleasure and design or as a test drive for the true McCoy.With combination extensions, the extensions must be undistinguishable from the physical hair. Hair extensions could be enlarged to your very own natural hair to add length, volume, and body.

At one time regarded as a wealthy Individual's support, hair extensions have gotten much more economical and even Pragmatic for casual customers. Hair extensions are not a one Size accommodates all, and also a few techniques might not be suitable for Particular hair textures and conditions. Hair extensions can include Instantaneous consistence, length to your overall look and can also To aid with baldness and hair loss circumstances. Hair extensions Provide a acuminate remedy to superfine hair also may add a little zing To thick, frizzly or crinkly hair in whatever colour or fashion.