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dem-obscure-imagines · 1 year

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Moonborne

Wyatt Lykensen x Reader

Fandom: Z-O-M-B-I-E-S

Note: This one’s been kicking around in my brain for a while. I think witches would fit in really well into the ZOMBIES world. This takes place after Z2 but before Z3.

Summary: Being the new girl in town is no easy feat, especially in a town full of zombies and werewolves. Wyatt takes a quick interest in you, but will he stick around once he learns about the magic you’re hiding beneath the surface?

Warnings: witchcraft? I guess? Other than that, none, I think.

Word Count: 4.7k

Reader is: A witch, implied to be female (they wear a dress) but I don’t think I ever used she/her pronouns.

You had been somewhat hesitant to move to Seabrook with your family. Something was brewing there, you could feel it in the wind, in the stars when they twinkled. There was magic there, of a few different kinds, which called to your own.

You and your mother were what were called Moonborne witches, a rare bloodline passed down through generations. Meanwhile, your father was a descendant of the Mysticwood coven, which had origins out in Massachusetts. But the Moonbornes were different. The Moonborne Coven had origins right there in Seabrook, which is why after three hundred years, your family was finally moving back.

It had been a few days since you’d moved in. Thanks to your magic, the boxes seemed to unpack themselves. Although, just because things were still…shaky in Seabrook after the introduction of werewolves to the community, you and your parents had decided to glamour for the time being, until you knew things were safe.

So, instead of your usually purple hair, you were rocking a nice, natural, human hair color. It was fine. Glamouring full time did tend to tire you out, but it was a sacrifice that needed to be made to ensure your family wouldn’t get chased out of yet another home.

You’d taken it upon yourself to be the one to paint the front door. It was a witch thing. The front door was to be painted purple, and while you did so, you’d also inscribe it with a protection sigil, to protect the house and bless all the people within it. It was while you were about halfway done that you felt a presence behind you. Two of them, technically. Definitely not human, swirls of magic lingering around their souls, and they smelled heavily of the woods.

Werewolves.

“Excuse me? Sorry to bother you.” One of the wolves, a boy, said. His voice was deep with a slight rasp. It was familiar to you in a way you couldn’t explain. “You just moved in, right?”

You turned around to face the strangers. You were correct. Two werewolves, one boy and one girl. The boy was tall, covered in toned muscle. He had short brown hair with a very distinct white streak near the front of his head, a few purple markings on his face and tattoos on his forearms. He had pointed fangs in his mouth, the tips of his ears coming to a point as well.

The other, the girl, was shorter. She had a wilder energy to her, long straight brown hair with a large chunk of white. He could have been the Alpha, but you didn’t think he was. He had the presence, but not the energy of the first in command.

“Hi. I’m (Y/N). We just moved in, yeah. Nice to meet you.”

The boy looked stuck, a lump in his throat or something of the sort as he stared at you. His breath hitched and his mouth opened, but he didn’t speak, just looking at you with this hypnotized kind of glaze in his eyes.

“Wyatt.” The girl hissed, elbowing him in the stomach.

Wyatt. You repeated in your mind, committing it to memory. It suited him, you decided.

“Oh! Um…” He gathered his thoughts, seemingly tugged back down to earth from wherever his mind had floated off to just then. “Right. Sorry about that. I’m Wyatt, this is Wynter. We’re from the local wolf pack, and we took it upon ourselves to, uh, introduce ourselves, welcome you to the community, and invite you to our picnic this weekend.”

“A picnic? That’s really nice.” You smiled. “I’d love to go. Is it at the park?”

“It is.” Wynter nodded. “Everyone is invited.”

“Do you need us to bring anything?”

Wyatt smiled, warmth in his eyes. “You don’t have to. You can if you want to, though.”

“Okay, awesome. I have a wicked recipe for cake cookies.”

“Cake cookies?” Wynter’s face lit up. “Is it a cake made of cookies or cookies made of cake?”

“They’re cookies, but they’re made from cake mix. They come out super moist and soft.” You explained, chuckling at just how hyperactive she seemed to be, especially compared to her counterpart. “They’re great.”

“They sound like it. So, uh, where did you move in from?”

“Just moved in from Michigan, actually. Kind of beautiful there, but uh…I don’t know, I’m excited to be here.” You shrugged. “This place has a really unique energy to it.”

“Well, don’t let us big scary wolves chase you off.” Wyatt joked, tilting his head at you. There was something glimmering in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. Something mischievous and…maybe even nervous? “I…I have a feeling you’re gonna make a great addition to our town.”

“I think so too.”

***

The day of the picnic, you put on your glamour, baked your cookies, and headed out to the park with your parents. You were nervous; you didn’t really know anyone aside from the werewolves who had showed up on your doorstep, but it seemed this was the whole point, to get to know more people.

You half-expected staring eyes, looks of disgust and fear that usually accompanied you and your family, but you didn’t find them. Sometimes, you almost forgot you could wave your hand and wish away your natural witchy features, blending in seamlessly with humans. It was almost unfair.

“You made it!” A cheery blonde girl beamed, walking up to you. “You must be (Y/N)! I’m Addison and this is Zed!” She introduced the rather tall, lanky zombie boy beside her.

“Nice to meet both of you.” You greeted warmly. You held up your container full of cookies. “Where should I put these?”

“I can set them with the rest of the food.” Zed offered, taking the container from you and bringing it over to one of the tables.

“Did you make those yourself?”

“Yeah, I did. I like baking.” You shrugged. “Didn’t have much time to before the move, all the packing and whatnot.”

“Oh, I bet. Well, I’m super glad you guys moved here! If you need anything let me know.” Addison said, her voice sincere.

“I will.” You promised. Your parents were off with the other adults, chatting. You wandered for a bit before walking right into a tall, warm, muscled body. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Of course it was Wyatt, his fanged grin confident and warm. “You came.”

“Of course I did. This is all great. Do you all do this often?”

“Only when the weather is this nice.” He motioned around at the perfect blue sky on the warm, sunny day. “And on full moons, but that’s more of a wolf thing.”

“Gotcha, gotcha.” You nodded.

“Want a hotdog? Bonzo and I just finished grilling them. We have vegetarian options, too, if you don’t do meat.” He offered, making sure to cover all of his bases.

“I’ll have a hotdog, yeah.” You chuckled. “The meat kind is fine. You guys have mustard?”

“We’ve got a little bit of everything.” He offered you his arm and, blushing, you took it, letting him guide you through the food options. You couldn’t ignore his warmth, nor the way his touch set your fingers tingling, your heart racing.

Something zinged through you, a floating, burning feeling. You’d never felt it before, but you’d heard whispers of it among the few remaining members of the Moonborne Coven. Strange things were said to happen when werewolves and witches crossed paths.

You pushed the thoughts out of your head. Wyatt was kind. He was beyond kind, actually. And already you could tell there was more to your connection than what lay on the surface.

***

After the picnic, Addison promptly got your number and added you to several groupchats, most of them including Wyatt as well as the other wolves, a handful of Zombies, and her friend Bree. They welcomed you with open arms, and it wasn’t long before they’d invited you to hang out with them. They’d agreed to meet at the bowling alley.

“I haven’t been bowling in ages.” You grinned, putting on the neon pink and green bowling shoes you’d rented.

“I haven’t been bowling ever.” Wyatt replied, putting on his shoes as well, tying them carefully despite the long claws he sported.

“Never?”

“It wasn’t until recently that we were actually let into town.” Wyatt told you, his demeanor shifting a little. He shrugged. “It’s nice, though. I like it here and I’m glad things are turning around.”

“That’s good.” You agreed. “People are really weird about differences and it sucks.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean, that’s kind of why we moved here. We heard things were getting…better. Still not perfect, but better. Our last town was really closed-minded, especially about…well, everything supernatural, I guess.”

“You’re human, though.” Willa said, her eyes narrowing at you as you spoke with her brother. It seemed she was always listening. “Why do you care what other humans think of us?”

You hesitated. “Right. Yeah, but…I don’t know, it doesn’t mean I have to put up with hatred.”

Wyatt smiled. “That’s really awesome, actually.”

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “Be the change you want to see and all that.”

You stood up, going to get a bowling ball, Wyatt close behind you.

“I’m sorry about her. She gets a little…defensive.”

“Don’t be sorry. After everything you guys have been through, I couldn’t blame her for being cautious. I’m a stranger. It makes sense to make sure I’m actually a decent person before getting comfortable.” You chuckled.

“Well, for the record, I think you’re more than a decent person.” He winked, causing you to laugh.

“Thanks.” You picked a pastel purple bowling ball off of the rack, weighing it in your hands before deciding it was adequate.

“So teach me, how do I pick a good one? I wanna make sure I’ve got a fighting chance at beating you.” Wyatt asked, playful. This was fun, you decided, getting flirted with by a werewolf. You kind of hoped it would continue, if you were honest.

Once you all picked your balls of choice, Bonzo set up the bowling games on the handful of lanes you were occupying and you all got started. You couldn’t help but notice, however, Wyatt coughed a bit, his eyes flashing yellow. You felt it in his magic, then, something flickering. Something wrong.

“You okay?” You asked him, turning to him in concern.

“What? Oh, yeah.” He nodded, stifling another coughing fit. “Allergies.”

You didn’t think that was the case, but you’d have to keep an eye on him. It was concerning.

***

A few weeks later and Wyatt’s condition hadn’t improved. In fact, you were pretty sure it was getting worse. You took it upon yourself to study up, turning to the several books your parents kept on every magical creature they could find. It came in handy, especially when moving to an area where they were the most common in the known world.

You scanned the books and found one on werewolves, plucking it from the shelf. As soon as you pulled it, however, the book next to it fell off of the shelf as well, sitting on the floor. It had a brown cover, but the letters on the front of it were embossed in a metallic, shining silver.

Moonborne.

“Huh.” You said, bending down to pick it up. You set it back on the shelf and turned around to leave with your book on werewolves, but heard a thud behind you. Sure enough, when you turned back around, it was sitting on the floor, innocent. “Okay…”

You picked it up off of the floor. Whatever was in the book wanted to be read and who were you to deny it. That was the thing about magic, sometimes it knew what you needed more than you did. You left the study and started to walk back to your bedroom to do your own research when you heard your mom calling you downstairs.

“(Y/N)! Your friends are here!”

“Coming!” You called back, glamouring as fast as you could and setting the books down on your way to the door, where Addison, Bree, Eliza, Willa, and Wynter were standing, dressed for a day on the town. “Oh, hey guys. What’s up?”

“We’re going shopping for dresses for the Summer Solstice Celebration! You wanna come?”

“Oh! Uh, sure! Let me grab my purse.”

“Here.” Your mom handed it to you, urging you out the door. She loved that you were fitting in so well already, but she had something else in her eyes. Her intuition was the best in the house; you had no doubt she knew something you didn’t.

“Thanks. I’ll be back later.”

She winked. “I know you will.”

The girls took you to a place downtown, a cute little dress boutique full of dresses for the occasion.

“So, you guys celebrate the Solstice? That’s really cool.” You noted, browsing the racks.

“It’s a wolf thing.” Wynter explained. “We used to celebrate it back when the witches still lived here.”

“Wait, there were witches in Seabrook?” Addison asked, her eyes wide with excitement. You really did love her enthusiasm for the supernatural. The world needed more of that. “What…happened to them?”

“They left.” Willa all but growled. “Our pack used to be bonded to their coven and they left us here as soon as things got tough.”

Your heart was racing, cheeks basically on fire. You didn’t know Willa was harboring such harsh feelings for your coven, and given that none of them knew you were a witch, you couldn’t speak on it without outing yourself immediately. You were trapped between a rock and a hard place.

“Oh, come on, Willa. They were chased out. They didn’t…I don’t think they meant to leave.” Wyatt’s voice was unmistakable, even though you didn’t expect him to be there. Your head whipped around at the sound of his voice. He looked…weaker than when you’d last seen him, dark bags around his eyes.

“Wyatt, why are you here?” Wynter asked. “I thought you were getting some sleep.”

“I probably should be.” He chuckled, shrugging. “But I knew you’d all be here and…I wanted to talk to (Y/N).”

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Me? You can always text or call me, you know.”

He grinned, taking a few steps closer to you. “I know, but uh…I wanted to do his in person.” Wyatt stopped in front of you, his hand rising to your face, clawed fingers careful, tentative, like he was waiting for you to wince away from his touch. Instead, you took his other hand with your own, savoring the warmth he always seemed to exude.

“What?”

He took a nervous breath. “(Y/N), will you go to the Solstice Celebration with me?”

“Yeah, of course I will.” You nodded, eyes sparkling as you looked up at him. “I…really like you, Wyatt.”

Wyatt sighed in relief, the tension rolling out of his shoulders. “Awesome. That’s…that’s great because I really like you too, (Y/N).”

“YES!” Zed burst out of one of the changing rooms, pumping his fist in the air. “I told you she’d say yes, dude! Congrats, both of you.”

“Zed?” Addison questioned, laughing.

“Hey, babe.” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek on his way to Wyatt. “Now that that’s settled, it’s boy’s night!”

Bonzo, also coming out of a dressing room, shouted what you assumed was the equivalent of “BOY’S NIGHT!” in zombie and followed the others out the front door, Wyatt, looking back at you the whole way out, grinning like an idiot.

“That was…weird. Very on-brand for Zed, though.” Eliza laughed.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so excited! I can’t believe he finally asked you out!” Addison squealed. “He’s liked you since the day he saw you.”

“He has?” You grinned, heart racing. “Awwww…”

“I know you don’t need me to tell you this, but if you break his heart—”

“Willa, chill.” Eliza said, rolling her eyes. “We’re all friends.”

Willa, surprisingly backed off, choking down her next words.

“Anywayssss, what do you want to wear? I think you’d look really pretty in this one.” Addison held up a pastel purple dress.

“That’s pretty, but…” Your fingers wandered to a floor-length glittering black down hanging on the next rack. “I think this might be the one…”

***

The Solstice had arrived, finally. The morning of, you and your parents celebrated privately, as you always did on your witchy holidays, and put on your glamours for the day. Your mother had a club meeting with the other mothers in town, your father had to pop into the office for a bit, and you had to get ready with the girls.

They were all assembled at Addison’s house, getting into their dresses, doing their makeup and hair. Addison helped you with yours, pulling your hair up into a bun and accessorizing with a few sparkly clips, sealing it with hairspray. If there was anything the cheerleaders knew, it was hair. You did your own makeup, sitting in a chair in front of the mirror. Willa stared at you for a long moment. You half-expected her to confront you again, but instead, she approached you with an eyeliner pen.

“Hey, um…could you do mine?” She asked tentatively. “Yours looks really good, and I don’t want to mess mine up.”

“Yeah, of course!” You hopped up out of the chair and let her take your spot instead. She handed you the eyeliner and you got in close, carefully and expertly doing some basic eyeliner. “Do you want wings?”

“Um, sure.”

“Big thick ones, or thinner, sharper ones?”

“Big, bold ones.” She replied, confident.

“Coming right up.” You finished the lines to her specifications, proud of your handiwork. You stepped away so she could take a look for herself.

Willa smiled, looking at her reflection. “Thank you. They look great.”

“Anytime.”

“And…I’m sorry, for everything. I guess I still have my walls up when I should be letting them down, getting to know people. It wasn’t fair of me to treat you like that.”

“It’s okay, Willa. I get it. You…you guys have been through a lot. More than I can imagine. You’re the Alpha, the protector. It makes sense that you’d want your pack to be safe, your brother or otherwise. I never took it personally.”

“I really appreciate that.” She smiled, putting her hand on top of yours. “And I think you and my brother are going to be great together.”

“How…how is he, by the way?” You asked, concerned. “I know he’s got something going on, but…”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She nodded. “Maybe ask him about it tonight. Let him know he’s on your mind.”

“I will.” You were a little confused by what she meant, but werewolves loved their secrets, and you figured she was leaving it up to him to tell you this one, whatever it was.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Addison announced, rushing to get the door in her pretty pink dress.

The doorbell rang three more times before she got to it. Unsurprisingly, it was Zed and the guys on the other side, Zed being the one who rang the doorbell repeatedly.

“Babe! You look great!” You heard him compliment loudly while the boys shuffled in to see how you were all dressed.

Wyatt stood in the doorway for a long time, staring at you, looking absolutely starstruck. He swallowed. “W-wow. (Y/N), you look amazing.”

He had cleaned up nice, himself, wearing a sharp black suit, a purple bowtie with a moon pattern on it the only thing that called back to his usual attire.

You smiled. “Thank you. You look really nice, Wyatt.”

“Thanks.” He held out a little plastic box with a corsage in it, a white rose surrounded by smaller, purple flowers. “This is for you.”

You admired it for a long moment. “It’s beautiful.”

“I tried to find one as beautiful as you, but this was as close as I could get.” He told you, his voice soft and sincere, hints of that wolfy confidence in his tone as he slid the bracelet onto your wrist.

“You keep talking like that, I’m gonna melt into a puddle right here on the floor.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” He chuckled. “How would I take you to the dance, then?”

You shook your head at him, laughing as he offered you his arm, escorting you out to the limo. Addison’s mom, the mayor, had pulled some strings and you were grateful she did. You sat down next to Wyatt and he settled an arm on the seat behind you. After a moment, he coughed into his other elbow, eyes glowing golden once more and his moonstone shining. It was a pretty bad coughing session, and it obviously hurt him a lot. You were worried.

“Wyatt, are you alright?” You asked again, concern in your eyes.

“I’m okay.” He insisted, nodding. “I…well, I will be.”

Before you could ask what that meant, the rest of the group joined you in the limo and you took off, headed for the dance, which was being held in the town’s community center, a large, modern building that they used to host all kinds of holiday events, according to Addison. This was the first time, however, that a summer solstice had been celebrated there.

You were all making Seabrook history, in a way, and you were about to make even more. Wyatt escorted you inside, where people were laughing and dancing around on the dance floor. There was a table of snacks and beverages, and the DJ of the evening was none other than Addison’s cousin, Bucky, who looked like he was having almost too much of a good time.

The group of you took some pictures together, chatting, dancing around and having a good time. Finally, Bucky played something slow and you looked up to catch Zed standing beside him, flashing Wyatt a thumbs-up.

He took a nervous breath and turned to you. “Hey, do you wanna dance?”

“I’d love to.” You told him, taking his hand and walking out to the dance floor with him. Wyatt’s hands found your waist and tugged you closer to him as your arms settled around his shoulders while you swayed to the slow song. It was nice, dancing with him, being so close to him. It felt cosmic. Even though he didn’t know about your magic, didn’t know you were anything more than human, there was an undeniable bond between the two of you in the way only a witch and a werewolf could be bonded.

“Hey, um…could we actually go outside for a second?” He asked, eyes nervous and brimming on golden. You could tell there was a lot going on in that head of his.

“Yeah, of course. Come on.” You two walked out the door leading to the garden, which was decorated for the occasion as well, twinkling lights draped around a beautiful wooden gazebo. He led you into it, sitting on the bench within and staring up at the stars before looking back at you.

“Um, so…You like me, right?” He felt the need to check. “Like you really like me?”

“Of course I do, Wyatt, what’s going on?” You took his hand, tilting your head.

“I—” He coughed again, turning his face away from you, eyes glowing as bright as the twinkling lights all around you. Once he finally had his composure, he tried again. “This. All of this is because I’ve been hiding something from you. I just, well, I didn’t know how to tell you without…scaring you away.”

“Whatever it is, you could never scare me away. I promise. I…honestly, Wyatt, I knew there was a reason we moved here and I thought it was just that the people here would be more accepting, and they are…but the real reason we moved here is you. It has to be.”

He took a long breath, nodding. “I’m really glad you said, that actually. Because, well…I imprinted on you. That day we met.” He let out a huge breath, his eyes glowing for a moment before settling again, as though things were shifting back into place within him now that he’d finally gotten it off of his chest. “I…I imprinted on you. You’re…well, if you accept me…you’d be my mate someday. But again, I understand if…if that’s not something you want.”

You stared at him for a long moment, letting the information settle in your mind before you rushed into his arms, pulling them around yourself and resting your cheek against his shoulder. “I want that, Wyatt. I want you. I…”

“Oh thank the moon.” He let out a relieved sigh, holding you tighter and letting his head rest against yours. “This is going a lot better than I thought it would.”

“Good. But uh…there actually is one more thing.” You pulled away from him to look at him. “You haven’t been the only one keeping secrets.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not human, Wyatt.”

He took a long inhale, as though he was trying to get a whiff of what you actually were, deep down, but the glamour did a lot of things, one of which being it covered your natural scent. “You smell human.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I bet. I…I think it’s probably just easier to show you.” You lifted a hand, summoning your magic to your fingertips and letting it cascade down your face and hair, taking off the glamour you’d used to hide for so long. You got a little choked up, tears welling in your eyes as you revealed yourself, your true self, for the first time in a very, very long time, purple hair cascading down your shoulders.

His expression melted as soon as he saw your tears, cupping your face in his warm hands and resting his forehead against yours, memorizing this new scent of yours. “Don’t cry. It’s okay. It’s okay, I promise. I…I love you (Y/N).”

You choked on a sob, meeting his eyes. “I love you, too.”

“So you’re…you’re a witch?” He asked carefully.

You nodded against him. “I’m a Moonborne. My family’s coven is from here. Willa was right. We…we abandoned you. I don’t know why they didn’t stay here and it took us so long to come back, but—”

“But you’re here now. And you’re mine. And…you’re not going anywhere this time, right?” he checked, eyes searching your own for confirmation that this was permanent.

“Right.” You nodded, whispering your promise to him. “We’re staying right here.”

He admired you for a long moment before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours, careful not to get you with his fangs. You melted against him, kissing him deeply as fireworks went off in the sky. When you returned to the friend group in a few moments, you knew everything would change. They would know who you really were, your secret would be out on the table and Wyatt would be your boyfriend.

But really, there was no way you would rather have it.

You and Wyatt walked back into the dance, hand in hand, your hair bold and purple. The others cheered, supportive and excited for you on all accounts.

“Love the new look!” Bree complimented. “But how did you do your hair so fast?”

“I’m…I’m a witch, you guys. I’m sorry I hid it from all of you for so long, but…my parents and I have been chased out of so many homes and Seabrook is the first place that’s actually felt…safe.”

“You’re a witch?” Wynter asked, looking you up and down.

And while you expected Willa to change her opinion of you once again, her expression softened too. She got it. You knew she would. “Witch or human or anything else…you’re part of our pack, (Y/N). Thank you for showing us who you really are.”

You took a long breath, giving Wyatt’s hand a little squeeze, which he reciprocated, leaning down to kiss your cheek. Though you had been afraid of Seabrook and what you might find there, now, you knew it was where you were meant to be. It had been your ancestor’s home, and now it was yours, and you knew it would be for the rest of your life.

#wyatt lykensen x reader #wyatt lykensen #wyatt x reader #wyatt #zombies #zombies imagine #disney's zombies

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ohmotherwhereartthou-if · 2 months

Note

What kind of fashion exists in the world? And what kind of clothes do the main characters wear?

Hello,

I find myself with a rare day off from work so I will be trying to knock out a few asks!

Also thank you for the fun ask, I love having the chance to world build a bit more publicly. 😊💙

So the fashion of OMWAT is very 1890's, Edwardian sort of centered. The world is a mix of slight medieval elements with the beginnings of early modernization.

Fashion also very heavily depends on which country your from and what social class you are in.

I'll start by breaking down Castellion fashion between the social classes then by men and women differences. Then I'll do the same for Romandian fashion! The main characters will have a post following shortly after this one to describe how they dress.

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Castelliones

Most Castelliones go for very practical but moderately reserved sort of look, for women; the white flowy blouse with a high neck paired with long black skirts is the classic look for average city women.

The only huge difference is that clean, detailed lace is a sign of wealth in this classic look (and honestly in most other looks too, lace is a bigger deal to women in Castellio). This is also sort of a day-to-day sort of outfit and women will spin their own personal touches to it. Some, if they can afford it, will invest in having at least one simple white dress with some lace.

If you're in Castellio and live in a more rural area then you might see a few more people dressed in a traditional/charro-ish style. The rural open areas of Castellio is full of ranches and it is simply more practical to not be wearing white (Practicality is also a very big deal in Castellio). Although the rural outskirts is where you will see more color in Castellion outfits, their outfits actually tend to be more vibrant than high class Castelliones.

Now, high class Castellion women are a whole different story. The general rule of practicality for clothing is thrown out the window for their fashion sense. They dress with the idea to convey a 'refined elegance', they do this by wearing a lot of white for purity, but also to show off how clean they can keep their dress. This is where that fashion trend of lace comes in, the more beautiful handcrafted pure white lace or frills you have; the purer they think they look. They also sometimes wear more form fitting dresses, although it's a bit risky because that's usually a style for single high class women in Castellio. More drapey or loose clothes tend to be a sign of a married woman, but it's more of an unspoken rule that some people choose to ignore because it's a little outdated. Even by Castellion standards lol.

Okay, now time for the men!

Average classed men wear simple and practical clothes, brown pants with plain white shirt is the standard look. Suspenders are a bigger deal though, they were introduced into Castellion fashion by Romandi culture back when young Castellion men were forced to work in Luogo Di Pace. Young Castelliones found them more interesting that the regular belts they had so they adopted the style into their culture as those men went back home at the end of their service time.

Castellio is also a pretty warm place but if they get cold they will wear layers.

Average Castellion men look like this:

Rural men will look dress in proper rancher styles because it's practical. A lot of their clothes are hand me downs from their fathers and grandfathers, so they are more sentimental in that sense and take great care of their clothes. If it's cold? They throw on a hand woven poncho made by their wife, mom, or abuela. Also they are pretty stubborn on wearing belts rather than suspenders because they want to stick more to Castellion tradition rather than adopt anything Romandian.

Upper class menswear is a little stuck in the mid 1800s style, it's a tad outdated with its frills and puffs but they still like them. Their outfits tend to be form-fitting and with toned down colors. Unlike the pictures however, they wear their pants all the way down to their ankles not to their knees.

(^imagine this but new looking^)

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I ran out of images allowed in one post for the Romadians so I will make another post for them! 😭

#omwat #ask #worldbuilding

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celestialulu · 5 months

Note

oooooooo you wanna tell me about nalu kpop au oooooooooooo you wanna tell me about nalu kpop au soooo bad

I feel like this is gonna be hard to do as a lot of the things I thought of bounced off of your ideas lol,, sorry if i accidentally stole ur ideas... anyway heres my thoughts on a nalu kpop au (its gonna be a LONG post i have a LOT of thoughts my baddd):

Well first of all I make a pinterest board for most of the aus I think of, just for a general idea and aesthetic and heres the one i did for that !!

(sorry it may not be that great I just needed some stuff to visualize it lol)

-Honestly i'm indecisive and cannot decide if I would personally put them in a group or if they would be soloists. I do think Lucy would suit being a soloist and it has a lot of potential if she were, reasons like her being from a prestigious family could be interesting with lucy feeling isolated and lonely a lot.

-Following the last point, maybe a lot of people in the industry might not really feel the need to talk to her much or have pre-existing assumptions about her and how she would act.

-Natsu (also a popular idol in the industry) first interacts with Lucy at some award show and he knows of her and loves her songs and performances but in that moment he doesn't really connect the dots and realize it's her, but he knows that she feels familiar for some reason.

-They talk a little and Lucy is surprised as she doesn't speak to many people that aren't staff or management and forced promotional stuff. She's a little awkward and she tends to talk a lot and rant because of that and Natsu thinks she's kinda weird (but in a nice way). They're cut off from that and don't see each other for the rest of the evening.

-Natsu realizes it was Lucy a few days later and no one believes that talked with her.

-They become close friends after being tasked to do a collab stage performance together.

-They practice a LOT, of course because they are hard workers but also because they enjoy spending time together and spending time together outside of work would cause rumors.

-The pure tension they have while practicing some of the moves for the performance.

-Natsu getting hit on the head of how attractive Lucy is after they go all out in one of their final practice sessions when shes sweaty, hair completely sticking out everywhere and wearing comfy baggy clothes which she wore for the purpose of practicing. (and also vice versa for Lucy)

-Natsu and Lucy looking hot (and cute) as fuck on a magazine cover photoshoot together.

-And alternatively, Natsu or Lucy looking hot as fuck for a solo magazine photoshoot and the other seeing it and having their own crisis.

-After the collab stage they aren't able to hang out or meet, even though Natsu has tried to on his on accord but his management has to make sure he doesn't, and although Lucy also misses hanging out with him she doesn't want any rumors to circulate and Natsu makes it his mission to try and find her at any event she might also be attending.

-They text and call a lot. Natsu often gets teased by others because of how much he smiles and laughs while texting Lucy.

-Natsu sends Lucy pictures of ANYTHING that has her on it in public. (posters, magazines, billboards etc etc)

-Natsu and Lucy start to hang out again after Lucy accidentally gets a little tipsy at some event and it's a casual event so Natsu is able to be the one to take Lucy home.

-Then starts the secret meetups, them dressing up in disguises and heavy clothing to even travel to somewhere private like each others home.

-Natsu has the most HIDEOUS disguises btw and Lucy tries to act peeved but she can't help but smile at the silly disguises.

-Lucy attends one of his tour concerts, she wears a bright ribbon in her hair she knows he's seen her wear before hoping he might see her in the audience. He texts her excitedly after the concert asking if she was really there.

-Natsu gifts Lucy matching friendship jewelry for her birthday (could be a necklace or bracelet but for this I like the idea of a necklace more) They both wear them 24/7.

-they hide it for a LONG time… like we're talking MONTHS and then they accidentally slip up and one day people find paparazzi pics of each where the matching jewelry is seen.

-Then they get CRAZY dating rumors like it is EVERYWHERE…

-Lucy is freakinggg the fuck out and Natsu just feels bad because Lucy is so anxious, he couldn't really care less about the public thinking Lucy is his gf but he does get it as rumors like this can damage a career and he knows that.

-They keep silent and carry on as though nothing happened and the rumors sort to die down after a while but theres still those odd few people who believe in it.

-Lucy doing a sexy cunty stage performance on a big big show, and Natsu is attending in the audience and someone slyly filmed his reaction where he is very visibly stunned and very confused about his feelings for her. It circulates social media a lot.

-Lucy sees this video but makes herself believe he isn't into her like that.

-Natsu acts completely indifferent to the video so people won't ask him about it.

-As much as most people would act like he doesn't know Lucy at all after the rumors, on tv shows he doesn't hesitate to sing or dance to her songs publicly.

-People notice how much Natsu and Lucy are very comfortable with each other, teasing and arguing endearingly with each other on a reality tv show.

-They start hanging out publicly without caring after this.

-Them writing lyrics about each other in songs, and Lucy is VERY angsty and poetic about it.

-Lucy getting drunk and asking Natsu "What would we be if we weren't this?"

-Natsu thinks she means career wise, and starts to think of what he would be if he wouldn't be an idol. She clarifies she meant them as in their relationship with each other. He can't answer.

-After that, it's a little awkward. Natsu doesn't know if she remembers. She does. But she doesn't dare act like she does.

-It gets a bit more crazy as they are asked to do another collab stage together after the success of the last one. They accept because, yknow, its like the best way for them to hang out privately without crazy disguises and the like.

-As if the last collab performance was bad enough without the choreography being an average dance this one is WAY WORSE. a lot more contact. a lot more closeness.

-The ending pose of the performance is Lucy laying on the floor and Natsu leaning over her.

-One day, they practice for HOURS straight trying to get it right and perfect the dance. After going all out, and in the ending pose Natsu is looking down at Lucy's messy hair and flushed face and her wide eyes. He kisses her.

-They ditch practicing for the evening and end up making out in the dance practice room for a while.

-Their new collab stage gets leaked when Lucy breaks her ankle and carries her down the street fast as FUCK where there's a really close hospital nearby. He feels bad as they have been practicing so much as an excuse to hangout with each other.

-They basically become "official" after that, but still try and keep it secret from the public. It kinda falls apart after pictures come out where Natsu clearly has a hastily wiped lipstick mark on his cheek and Lucy's neck is littered with hickeys.

-People connect the dots with Natsu and Lucy acting insufferable with each other in public, Natsu cheering his lungs out and supporting Lucy so loudly, and Lucy likewise but a little more restrained than him.

-Natsu once went viral for punching someone trying to get too close to Lucy.

-They never officially state they're together but they don't hide it as much after a while and then in the future one day it comes out that they're literally engaged.

-They have the cutest wedding pics ever and Lucy plays a song she wrote about him before they got together at their wedding.

-Then they're happily supporting each other's activities as a married couple, Natsu commenting and reposting everything Lucy posts and being very loud about her comebacks. Lucy is the same.

This is long as fuck and there's probably so many other things to say but this ended up basically being a whole as story instead of odd headcanons this probably makes ZERO sense. my bad. hope you enjoy anyway <3

#i might as well of made a full length fic with this LMAO #im scared a lot of these dont scream nalu specifically but i did try #its nearly 2am and i have college so sorry if this is bad <3 #fairy tail #nalu #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel

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frozenjokes · 2 months

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hOtgUy drops by to pick up his visor, and Cub viscerally regrets not googling his name before then (1/2)

Tuesday was a big stocking day for the little shop where Cub worked, and easily his busiest of the week as he managed most of the stock, keeping track of what they had, sorting things, generally doing anything that kept him off the sales floor. The type of people shopping in a place like this tended to have fragile egos, and Cub, despite his previous best efforts, did not have a delicate touch. Self proclaimed superheroes would happily get into fights, suffer massive injuries, and generally engage in borderline suicidal behavior in the pursuit of a thrill, but say they have a big head one time, and you find out who the most sensitive members of society really are. (And she did have a big head, literally and metaphorically, it wasn’t Cub’s fault they didn’t have a helmet that fit.)

You could say he and his manager occasionally butted heads after incidents like these, disagreeing especially on how the aftermath was handled (admittedly, never well on Cub’s part, but he struggled to mask under pressure), but there was nothing either of them could do about it besides stick Cub in the back where no one could see him and pretend to like each other. She couldn’t fire him; a higher up was a family friend, and they knew Cub needed the help, and Cub couldn’t quit, because, again, money was always an issue, so the two of them just had to suck it up and deal. In the end though, it wasn’t a bad gig, not when he didn’t have to speak to people most of the time. It would just be a little nicer if his manager wasn’t always convinced he was doing a shit job.

Cub had been excited this morning for that to change, though in the flurry of handling supplies and dealing with deliveries, and having to micromanage everything, he had forgotten HotGuy was coming. The trucks had been late today, as well as a few other issues Cub had been dealing with, so he was still outside around noon, and coming back in to hear HotGuy’s voice was quite the scare. Mostly because he was so loud.

“-Oh yes! Positively delightful, knew exactly what the problem was and assured me you all would have exactly what I’m looking for. You know, I don’t often take a look around the smaller stores for the things I need; a lot of my equipment is custom made, but this place is just adorable, seriously, adorable. I’m so lucky Cub and I ran into each other! Is he here? Could I speak with him?”

His manager was clearly flustered, reasonable given that bigger names like HotGuy never stopped by smaller shops like this. It was cheaper, sure, but the quality wasn’t always there, and if you can afford the better stuff, you might as well spend the money.

“Thank you-” she finally said, “I’m sure I can get you what you need right here though, just a replacement for the visor screen, right?”

“Oh, that’s alright! Cub said he’d have it ready for me.”

Cub heard the strain in his manager’s voice, and it was quite clear the last thing she wanted was for Cub to say something rude or scare this high value customer away in some other creative way, “Cub’s very busy right now in the back, we get new stock on Tuesdays and he usually handles most of the-”

“I can wait!” HotGuy announced proudly, and Cub cringed from his place in the back. He couldn’t see his manager, but he could practically hear the strain in the silence, probably split 50/50 between bafflement that HotGuy was going to wait to be served and fear that he wanted Cub to be the person to serve him.

Probably fair, because when Cub finally poked his head out from the back, he was not ready for HotGuy to have no legs. The wheelchair itself was a sight; heavily customized to HotGuy’s colors but also full of stickers and even advertisements on the sides. Was- were those kitchen knives duct taped to the handles-? HotGuy himself was dressed in his usual costume, still wearing the cracked visor, but he had plain black sweatpants on as well, almost jarring in comparison to the rest of his intricate costume, though, more jarring was the fact there was nothing in the pant legs.

“Cub!” his manager hissed, not subtle at all, but maybe that was warranted given that his staring was just as conspicuous.

Cub jumped, scrambling to explain himself in a flurry of thoughts and stutters, but he and panic did not mix well, the resulting defensive coming out as, “He had legs yesterday-“ which was definitely one of the worst things that could have come out of his mouth, so he excused himself immediately. If he could escape out the back door fast enough, a stray truck might take pity on his plight and run him over. His manager broke the stunned silence, apologizing profusely, but she was completely drowned out by HotGuy’s laugh, an impossibly loud, barking thing. He said something, but Cub didn’t hear it or his manager’s response, though he did hear their shuffling and then- wheels? Was that the wheelchair?

“Cub?” Whatever Cub was expecting next, it was not HotGuy’s face poking in through the doorway. Probably much worse than his imagined worst case scenario, and Cub had to fight the urge to get up and run.

“Hi,” he managed instead, then, after the voices of literally everyone he knew started yelling in his head, he continued with a meek, “Sorry.” ‘That’s not genuine,’ something sneered, a mangled conglomerate of many voices, school teachers, old friends, parents- ‘Again, and mean it this time.’ “I’m really. Sorry.” Cub tried again, but it still wasn’t right, it still wasn’t human-

“It’s fine, I don’t care,” HotGuy said, far better at sounding like he meant it, “Nothing I haven’t heard before, though, usually that particular comment comes from kids,” Scar laughed, but seemed to realize pretty quickly that Cub did not find it very funny. Cub didn’t even want to know what his face was doing right now.

“I’m sorry.” That sounded better.

But HotGuy only cocked his head, something like concern dancing behind his eyes, though, it was hard to tell behind the visor. Cub didn’t even know what color they were. “Can I come in?” He sounded friendly. Cub’s voice didn’t seem to be working anymore, so he just nodded, miserable. HotGuy wasted no time doing just that, though he struggled a bit with the mess, another entirely mortifying thing to have to watch. Cub should get up. Do something about it. He didn’t, though.

“One of my prosthetics got damaged yesterday after we parted ways. CuteGuy wasn’t happy with me still, and he let me know it. The equipment is sturdy, obviously, it has to be, but there’s a lot of moving parts, and because I’m so active, maintenance has to be performed relatively often. Since one needs fixing up, might as well make sure the other is in tip top shape, yeah?” HotGuy was quiet for a moment, but Cub still couldn’t say anything, so the hero continued, looking curious, “Did you not know? That I’m an amputee?”

Cub opened his mouth to answer, but that just wasn’t going to happen, so he shook his head instead, embarrassment building. HotGuy looked entirely fascinated by that information, and there was some kind of odd open mouthed half-smile on his face, but Cub for the life of him could not tell what HotGuy was thinking. Luckily, the other wasn’t exactly trying to keep it a secret.

“I think I’m impressed. I also think I need to model with my wheelchair more. Goodness.” HotGuy stopped, plucking his phone from his pocket and looking something up, “No, that’s like- when you google me, that’s like the first thing that every website says about me! It’s what I’m known for- how-?” Cub cringed, but HotGuy didn’t seem to notice, shooting up in his chair.. Excited..? “You don’t even know how it happened! I bet you have no idea! Oh, I haven’t gotten to tell that story to anyone who didn’t already know in ages and- well, before when I told people the wounds were a little more raw if you catch my drift. Far more unpleasant- Oh!”

HotGuy was off in his own little world, and very clearly didn’t notice Cub flinch at the sudden noise. Honestly, Cub couldn’t even tell if he was looking at him.

“I’ll tell you at lunch! You’ll come to lunch with me, won’t you?”

Cub struggled to do much more than gape and gesture uselessly, and he wasn’t entirely sure if HotGuy understood what was happening, but he definitely recognized there was a problem, brows furrowed in concentrated thought. Finally, he clicked his tongue.

“I’ll give you the address! I’ll write it down,” HotGuy pulled a small notebook out of his pocket, humming to himself, before lighting back up, “And my number! Just in case you can’t make it. Or don’t want to come. You don’t have to come. But I really want you to! If you don’t come though you should text me. You don’t have to text me. But I’d really like if you texted me. Or call me! You don't have to call me. How does 1:00 sound?”

Cub stared, which apparently HotGuy took as a resounding yes, as he continued writing, just about as happy as can be. He tore the page out of his notepad then set it on Cub’s desk, patting it a couple times before turning right around with an enthusiastic wave, “Byeee!”

Cub scrambled to his feet, opening his mouth to say literally anything, but speech still wasn’t working out for him, and HotGuy was practically already out the front door. His manager was similarly speechless, but more in the normal way rather than the Cub way, so baffled, she wasn’t even wearing her signature customer service smile.

“Are you okay?” she surprised him with that, her tone far more gentle than he had expected, especially after a complete disaster. But she did look worried, and now that he thought a little harder about it, he had to guess he wasn’t looking so great. But Cub couldn’t say as much, so instead he ducked into the back room, returning with the note HotGuy had left for him.

Her eyes widened as she read it, complete disbelief evident in every feature on her face. Cub wasn’t sure why she was so surprised, he had no doubt she heard every word HotGuy said to him, but regardless, she returned the note, near silent.

“You should go.” She must have seen the distaste on Cub’s face before he even knew it was there, shaking her head, “You have to go. This- Cub! That’s HotGuy!” This was not in the least bit convincing, but his manager was a bit too distracted to notice. Honestly, he didn’t mind all that much. It was a little nice to be talked to like a friend. “Go, go on, rest up. Take as much time as you need, but if you don’t make it by 1:00 you’d better text him. Then tell me everything. He likes you, Cub!”

He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so he simply didn’t.

Cub sighed through his nose as he turned around, fully intending on taking that break, but not on going to lunch. Lunch with a random famous guy was the last thing he wanted right now- god, and he’d kill for a nap. He frowned, but stopped short when he saw his desk, or rather, the little package on top of his desk. The visor screen- damn it.

It was HotGuy’s fault he had forgotten about it, but maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was Cub’s fault for making a complete fool of himself- HotGuy must have felt obligated to comfort him, surely. Embarrassing. Mortifying, even. If Cub never had to face the world again, it would be too soon.. But it would probably be responsible of him to actually give HotGuy the visor he came for in the first place. A proper apology.

He sat with a huff, eyeing the note with a creased frown. Yup, there was the name and address of the place HotGuy wanted to meet him, his number, and-

Cub dropped the little sheet of paper, then nearly fell out of his chair trying to catch it.

‘And HotGuy is a little much as far as names go, so please, call me Scar.’

#hermitcraft #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #cubfan #hermitfic #hermitshipping #not in this part much but in the next one #convex #cubscar #hotguy

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venomroses · 6 months

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thinking about disability in the zones. like yeah yeah everyone's heard the "fun ghoul has adhd" headcanons which of course are all well and good but like. there are two things ive been thinking about specifically that i rarely see in danger days content that i think would be fairly common:

one. vision problems. think of how many people you know who wear glasses/contacts. think of how many more strangers you see on the street who are wearing glasses. there's a lot of people! and even if you leave the city with your glasses, lots of people need new prescriptions every few years. my glasses from even only 2 or 3 years ago are absolutely unusable for me because my vision has changed that much. and i doubt even if you do manage to find some random pair of glasses you'll want them- wearing a prescription thats too weak or too strong is uncomfortable as hell and really isn't that much of an improvement. even if you stick with it long enough for it to be tolerable it strains your eyes horribly. when i was little i would need new glasses before my family's insurance would cover it for us and i'd have eye strain headaches several nights a week for months until i could get new ones. a lot of things in the zones are set up to be low vision accessible

two. amputees. and not "they're an amputee but they have an android body part that works exactly like their natural body part so its fine". i don't have any personal experience with this the way i do with glasses but think about how common amputation was as a means of fixing a serious and/or infected wound before modern medicine. if you don't know it was pretty common especially during wars like the american civil war because infections were hard to prevent (if water was scarce and you couldnt wash your hands/tools/etc, if the disinfectants you had weren't effective enough, etc) and harder to treat (before antibiotics, again if you're unable to keep things clean, etc), wounds could be hard to treat especially if supplies were limited/there were lots of injuries to tend to, etc. there are shortages of all sorts of supplies in the zones but there's no shortage of weapons and it's easier to just cut an infected/injuried limb off than it is to spend tons of time and carbons searching for what you need (if you even know what you need, not everyone is a well-trained medic) while your crewmate is dying. most killjoys have met at least one amputee before. i've talked a little before about how i think a lot of killjoys would travel on foot because of how much work it is to maintain a car so a lot of people who own cars or motorbikes are lower limb amputees who can't walk long distances (because even a well fitted prosthetic irl can be uncomfortable for long distances or in general, so i can't imagine one handmade in the zones would be much more comfortable. and thats if you even have a prosthetic at all)

#i think ive posted about this before but What Ever. woe my danger days thoughts be upon ye #the zones

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theonlyadawong · 1 year

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a lot of people tend to think leon is constantly very angry with, or at least frustrated by ada, on account of her lies and manipulation, and while i do believe that feeling of his applies to all of their interactions of re2, i believe this frustration is not that present post re2, and it is in fact is because so many players project their own anger, frustration and even hatred of ada onto leon in the later games, as the more time he spends as a government agent, the more he understands ada and the world she comes from.

leons core tenet is that he wants to help people, so what does he do? he becomes a police officer because he believes cops do the most good (a sentiment that shows he is wearing EXTREMELY rose colored glasses lol), and then he heads to Raccoon City, and while in RC he helps everyone he can. and he is SO good natured that the idea that ada could be lying to him is so far from his mind (NOTE: this is NOT a sign of him being the heavily infantilized man fans make him out to be, and more a sign of general ignorance of the world, as frankly, nobody besides annette has any reason to believe ada would be a spy) because the world of mercenaries and espionage are so far removed from what he believes to be his reality. this is a man who fully believed becoming a police officer was the right way to help people. (and yes im aware of his established backstory where a cop saved him when the rest of his family died due to some crime. this still doesnt make being a cop the right thing to do.)

and so ada strings him along for her own personal gain, and at the end leon learns of her deceit. and the biggest betrayal leon experiences is not from ada, its just that the confrontation scene is the 11 o'clock number for leons half of the game, thus making it stick with us longer, as we the player have also been fooled by her. but no, the biggest betrayal happens when the government decides to cover up the horrors of raccoon city and use sherry as collateral to get him to work for them. and, unfortunately, this is only shown for a few minutes in resident evil darkside chronicles and in the epilogue screens of the original resident evil 3 (re 4 remake might add more to this, but that game hasnt come out as of yet, but heres hoping lol), so we dont fully get to see how he reacted to that outside of these moments and a few other passing thoughts in the series.

but!!! leons entire worldview crumbles after the events of 2, and the next time leon and ada meet in 4, he is wise to the world, and he has seen firsthand the atrocities the united states government is willing to commit under the guise of helping people. and people like ada, people who lie and manipulate and work for evil, greedy organizations (well intentioned or not) are now everywhere. theyre a dime a dozen. they are annette. they are luis. they are krauser. they were his recruiter. they are his boss. they are the president. they are the entire government he was so excited to work for.

ada just has the benefit of being his first introduction to these kinds of people

to be clear, im not saying leon is suddenly okay with her half-truths, but i am saying after he is forced to work for the government, he understands her, or at least, understands people like her, so much more so he knows exactly what to expect. just not when to expect it.

#resident evil #meta #also. and this should be obvious given my url. but im an ada fan #so dont clown on her on this post bc you will be blocked.#also im not an essayist so the formatting might suck lol #actually this is really more me rambling and calling it meta but you know what?#it is what it is baby!#anyways if u liked this then im sending you love and if you didnt then keep it to yourself.#anyways (pt. 2) a lot of you project your feelings of other characters on to leon and its!!!!! so fucking annoying.#again this is heavy rambling that i just. needed to get out of my drafts so. here!#and this is the best its gonna get so. here.#re #[l. s. kennedy; appendage of the enemy]

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pokemon-legends-and-legacies · 9 months

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Abilityshipping? For the fan kid meme.

Name: Indigo

Gender: Male

General Appearance: Dark blue-violet hair that tends to stick up, warm brown eyes, and Ash's iconic "Z" markings on his cheeks. Fairly petit in stature, but stronger than his small size would indicate. Tends to dress in more formal, stylish clothing, similar to Anabel's, in an attempt to avoid people frequently thinking he's much younger than he actually is (though now he just gets a lot of 'oh how cute! a little kid wearing a little suit!).

Personality: He's fairly hesitant and even a bit passive. It takes a lot for him to stand up for himself and speak his mind. Since he was sheltered growing up, he's nervous around new people and isn't quite sure how to best make friends. Nevertheless, once he's calmed his anxiety, he's a fierce battler and has a strong wanderlust, dreaming of seeing the world one day (even if traveling is also a bit scary).

Special Talents: Indigo inherited Ash's ability to use aura, though rather than making barriers and other physical manifestations, his talent is in reading the auras of other living things. He can sense emotions, locate people, and even communicate to a degree with pokémon.

Who They Like Better: Don't make him choose!

Who They Take After More: Anabel! He's actually very similar to how Anabel was as a child, though there's no way for her parents to know that.

Personal Headcanon: His parents first properly met through a joint mission - Ash working for the G-Men, Anabel for Interpol (as an amnesiac Faller). They found they had a strong rapport, and greatly enjoyed getting to know each other (and having a few battles) during the downtime they got. Afterwards, they kept in touch and began trying to take further assignments that would let them interact, eventually starting a relationship. Indigo was an unexpected baby, but Anabel and Ash used the opportunity to both retire from active duty so they could raise him. Regardless, both were a teensy bit overprotective of him, having experienced the Horrors of the world firsthand themselves (multiple brushes with death and evil villains, losing entire pasts to wormholes, and that's not even getting into everything they dealt with on G-Men missions). Now that Indigo is older and wants to travel though, they're learning that they can't and shouldn't be so protective of him forever.

#Answer #AbilityShipping #Pkmn Fankids #if they had a kid meme #pokeracer93

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detective-and-dreamer · 2 months

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ghost and mask for the ask game!

Thank you! Lots of fun stuff to think about with these ones.

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

For Lenora, the obvious answer here is Lucien, and even though it's been years she is...not doing well about that. She does her best to live with it and remember the kind of person he was and would have wanted her to be, which is why she tends to avoid most of the cruel or murderous choices throughout Nemesis. To a somewhat lesser degree, she's also haunted by her parents (their deaths are why she gets so freaked out about the Zee or deep water in general) and people she's failed to save (like the Last Constable).

Selina is haunted by herself, or at least the person that others have always wanted her to be. The aspects of herself that she refuses to face, and all the feelings about her upbringing that she's repressed (she pretends it was a happy childhood when she was in fact pretty neglected and objectified) are going to become a big theme with her.

Emory is haunted by the first crewmate to permanently die while they were in command. He was young and probably too inexperienced to be in charge of the deck, even temporarily, but it was still a freak accident. He grew up at Zee and rationally knew that sometimes shit just happens, but it didn't actually make him feel any better. It made them doubt whether they were actually good enough to live the life they had been raised into, and it took a while to shake that insecurity.

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

Lenora both literally and figuratively disguises herself for work all the time, but we'll go into her day-to-day life instead. To Society and most people who don't know her well, she's a charming and elegant young woman with an unfortunate tendency to stick her nose in everyone's business even when she's not actively investigating them. The reality is closer to the hedonistic writer that her Bohemian friends know, but even that can be a front at times. Her aunt and Emory are probably the only living people who know the depths of sadness, anger and guilt underneath all of that.

Selina.......[laughs in Light Fingers]. Aside from all the wonderful horrors that await her, she's always been masked as an unassuming, delicate, kind-hearted girl. Now that she has some freedom, it's getting pulled back to reveal a person who is actually very emotionally distant and not well grounded in reality. She still manages to be superficially likable because she displays these traits in a way where most people are just like "Oh, she's so eccentric! She says the most interesting things!" Once that mask is completely off, anyone who tries to develop a lasting connection with her is going to have a difficult time unless they're fine with her flitting in and out of their life at random.

Emory is pretty forthright about who he is. The only thing they ever really hide from the general public is their softer emotional side, but there are still quite a few people they can let their guard down with: their parents, their crew, and Nora.

#ask #Lenora #Selina #Emory

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andnowanowl · 4 months

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Since "Palestine Speaks: Narratives of Life Under Occupation" is suspiciously not available in the US in the form of an e-book, I purchased a physical copy and wanted to share it here for anyone else also unable to get access.

IBTISAM ILZOGHAYYER

Director of cultural center, 54

Born in Battir, West Bank

Interviewed in Bethlehem, West Bank

During our dozen or more meetings with Ibtisam Ilzoghayyer in her office, her black hair is either pulled back into a slick ponytail or falls to her shoulders in tight curls. She speaks with us in English, and she has a distinct accent influenced by her time studying at Newcastle University in northern England. When she stands, she adjusts a clamp on a knee brace in order to walk. This is due to a childhood bout with polio, which she contracted when she was two years old.

Ibtisam is the director of the Ghirass Cultural Center, which she helped found in 1994. Ghirass, which means "young trees" in Arabic, serves more than a thousand youth annually in the Bethlehem region through enrichment programs in reading, traditional Palestinian arts, and more. The center also provides literacy programs for women - generally mothers who are learning to read so that they can take a more active role in their children's education.

The walls of Ibtisam's office are decorated with awards and framed drawings by children who have passed through the center. Throughout her day, children stop by to share their successes - an improved test score or a list of books read during the month. Ibtisam takes time with each one to congratulate and encourage them, and to laugh with them. She spends most of her time at the center she works five or six days a week, though she can often be found at the center on her days off as well. When she isn't at the center, she is likely to be at home with her elderly mother, tending a large garden of fruit trees, flowers, and vegetables.

I was born in 1960, in Battir.¹ Life in the village was simple. Most of my neighbors were farmers, and when I was a child, people from Battir would all travel into Jerusalem to sell produce in the markets there. My parents had some land that they farmed, and my father was also a chef. When I was very young, he worked at a hotel in Amman, Jordan, and we'd see him on the weekends.² Then, after 1967, he began working as a chef at the American Colony Hotel in Jerusalem.³

My mother stayed home and raised me and my siblings - there were nine of us. We didn't have TVs, and there were no computers and no plastic toys to keep us distracted. I think we were lucky to have those things. Instead, we used nature. We'd play in the fields, climbtrees, make toys ourselves out of sticks and stones. It seemed then there weren't divisions then between neighbors, despite religion or other differences. We were all part of one culture in many ways. I remember my mother coloring eggs every Easter. It was something that had been passed down for generations - it wasn't a Christian thing or a Muslim thing, it was a Palestinian thing to mark Easter that way.

I must have joined in all the games when I was very young, but then I developed a disability as an infant. When I was two and a half years old, my mother was carrying me past a clinic in town one day. A clinic nurse stopped us and told my mother she should come in, that she should get me the vaccine for polio. So I was given a vaccine. That night I had a fever, and I couldn't move my right arm and left leg. Over the next few years, I was able to regain function of my limbs, but my left leg grew in shorter than my right. At age four, I started wearing a brace to help me walk. It was just bad luck that we walked past that clinic.

I had to get used to people treating me differently because of my disability. Even people's facial expressions when meeting me were different they didn't react to me as if I were a normal child. When I was at school, I was excluded from physical education activities, and some field trips that required a lot of walking. That was really difficult.

I also had learning disabilities. My teacher beat me once in fourth grade because I was nearly failing all subjects. Education was important to my parents, so they were unhappy that I was struggling. My father had only gone through fourth grade, so he could read and write. My mother had never been to school. But they wanted more for their kids. Especially me. Because I had a disability, they wanted me to do well in school so that I'd be independent when I grew up, and not need to rely on anyone.

Then in the fifth grade, I succeeded on an exam, and the feeling was very strange. The teacher handed back the paper and said the work was "excellent." I couldn't believe I'd done anything that would make her say that. I couldn't believe that it was my paper that was excellent. I thought she'd made a mistake. I think that's common for children who aren't used to success-they don't realize it's their effort that leads to excellence. They think it's by accident. But I tasted success just that one time, and I realized I loved it. I just had to convince myself it wasn't a mistake! Then I continued to try hard at school, and I started to realize my potential.

In 1977, I was accepted into a boarding school in Jerusalem. It was actually right next to the American Colony Hotel, so I could see my father sometimes. I'd also go home on holidays. It was still relatively easy to travel into and out of Jerusalem then.

I did well enough in high school that I got accepted into the University of Jordan in Amman. I started there in the fall of 1979, and I studied economics. I loved university, and I wasn't lonely. Other than college students who became friends, I had a lot of family living and working in Amman. But I still felt homesick sometimes, and I started to understand what made Palestine feel special. In my last year at university, the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish came to read at a theater on campus. I got tickets to go, but when I arrived, the theater was absolutely packed. And the streets outside were full. There were so many Palestinians in Jordan, and we all wanted to hear this poet remind us what it meant to be Palestinian.

IT RAISED A LOT OF EMOTIONS FOR ME

I returned home in 1984, and I had one of the hardest years of my life. I had just spent many years working extremely hard to make something of myself, to become independent from my parents - economically, emotionally, socially so that I wouldn't be a burden to them. Then I returned to Palestine and found I couldn't get a job. Because of my economics degree, I wanted to work in a bank, but there weren't any jobs in that field available, and I couldn't find any other sort of work. So I lived with my parents for a year and they supported me. I was very depressed during that time.

Then one day in 1985, I read a classified ad put up by the BASR.⁶ They were offering to train workers in a field called community-based rehabilitation, which was about helping people with disabilities overcome them by working with the family - the whole community, really - to integrate the disabled into daily life. At first, I wanted nothing to do with that sort of work. I had an economics degree, and I had spent my whole life trying to get away from any limitations imposed by my own disability. I simply didn't want to think about disabilities. But I desperately wanted a job, so I applied.

I trained with the BASR for a year. It was hard. I worked with children who had hearing issues, blindness, mental health issues. The work brought up a lot of emotions for me, and it took some time to become comfortable around the children. But I kept receiving praise from my supervisors, and they made me feel like I was useful. In 1986, I began working in some of the refugee camps in Bethlehem as well, and that helped open my eyes. I got to see some of the real traumathat was happening in the community. That same year, BASR opened a community center for people with mental health disabilities, and I helped to run it. It was a very busy time for me.

Then the following year, in 1987, the First Intifada began. I remember it started just after I got my driver's license. I bought an old used car on November 30 of that year, and I was really proud of myself. I was starting to feel quite independent. Then I set out to drive to work for the first time on December 6, and I ended up driving through streets littered with stones and burning tires. It was the first day of the Intifada, and I couldn't make it to work that day - there was too much happening in the streets. So I spent the day listening to the news with my family.

THINKERS BEFORE FIGHTERS

The idea of starting a community center came to me in 1990. It was the middle of the First Intifada, and the streets were dangerous places to play for children. Aside from the threat of getting caught in fighting, children were sometimes targeted by soldiers. Sometimes children threw stones at soldiers, but other times soldiers would find children simply playing traditional games with stones. Many children, even young children, were arrested by soldiers who saw them playing these games. So the idea of the center started as a way to give children a safe place to play.

Also, at that time many schools were frequently closed by military order, so children had to stay at home for long stretches of time. Sometimesthe Israeli military would even use schools as checkpoints to control the area. The school in Battir was used as a military camp. These realities came together to make us want to start the center.

The BASR was able to establish the Ghirass Cultural Center in Bethlehem in late 1993, early 1994. In the West Bank at that time, the school curriculum was Jordanian. In Gaza, it was Egyptian.⁸ So when I went to school, I studied a Jordanian curriculum. We never studied anything about Palestine or its history. We never saw a Palestinian map. We studied the history of Jordan, of China, of Germany, of England - I remember learning about all the families who ruled England-but nothing connected to our history, nothing connected to our geography, nothing connected to our culture.

When we started the center, we wanted to educate children about Palestinian culture, Palestinian music, Palestinian poetry. We have famous poets like Mahmoud Darwish, but it was forbidden for us to read from them or read other Palestinian writers. If the Israelis caught us with a book from certain Palestinian writers, we might end up in jail. We couldn't have Palestinian flags, political symbols, anything considered propaganda for a Palestinian state-everything could get us into trouble. My family, like most in the West Bank, had a hiding spot at home. For us, it was at the back of the cupboard. When we heard there were going to be raids on houses, we'd quickly hide our forbidden books of poetry or flags or whatever behind a false wall at the back of that cupboard.

With these restrictions in mind, one of our first goals at the center was to provide a sense of Palestinian culture to children. We wanted the center to be inclusive, so we didn't allow any religious symbols or symbols of any specific political parties in the center. We had children from Christian communities and Muslim, urban and rural, from refugee camps and from relatively well-off neighborhoods. I also continued to work with children who had disabilities, but we integrated them with other kids in the classroom, whether they were blind or hearing impaired or had learning disabilities. They were all integrated.

After working this way in the cultural center, I even began to forget my own disability completely. I had other things to worry about or work on. One day, I saw myself in a reflection in a window while in the street, and I remembered I didn't walk as other people do - I had simply forgotten for a time that I had any disability at all. And I was happy for myself! Overcoming my own disability was no longer my focus.

In the center, I tried to make students thinkers before fighters. I did everything I could to keep them in the center, or make sure they went straight home to keep them from dangerous interactions with the soldiers. We lost some children - some had a strong feeling that they wanted to fight. It was very difficult. Of course, they didn't always understand what they were doing. But they weren't just imitating other people who were fighting in the streets, they were expressing their own anger from experiencing humiliation and violence.

Not long after the center was established and I had begun working there, I had the chance to travel abroad for the first time. I went with a friend to help her apply for a scholarship offered by the British consul to study in England. While there, I applied myself, sort of on a whim. But it turns out I won the scholarship. When I got the call that I had won, the consular office gave me two weeks to get ready for travel. So for the first time, I got to leave Palestine - other than my college years in Jordan. I studied for a year at Newcastle University⁹ and learned administration and counseling. It was a good experience, even though it was hard.

I felt homesick from the moment the plane took off. I was away from home from the fall of 1994 to the spring of 1995. I got to travel a lot throughout England, and that was interesting, but I wanted to go home the whole time. I remember I had very little money, and what I had I'd use to call my family. I'd spend hours asking my brothers about neighbors I barely knew - old men who hung out on the street that I never talked to, for instance - just because I wanted to know everything that was happening at home. When I completed all my coursework, I was expected to stay for the graduation ceremony and some parties. But I told the school administration I didn't want any parties, I just wanted to go home and see my family!

CHILDREN SEE THAT THEIR PROTECTORS ARE SCARED

The Second Intifada began in 2000.¹⁰ During that time, I had to get around a lot of crazy obstacles just to continue my work. From late 2000 to 2003, I used to practically live in this office because I couldn't always go back home. I remember the first time I tried to go home to Battir from Bethlehem in 2000, just after the Intifada started. It was just a couple of miles, and the checkpoint was closed. Nobody could cross to or from the five villages on the other side of the checkpoint. The soldiers refused to let anyone go back home. Children, old men, workers - imagine, all these normal people who wanted to go back home at four p.m., the end of the working day. Hundreds of people! We were surrounded by soldiers, and I remember thinking that nobody had any place to hide if shooting started. I waited that day from four p.m. to seven p.m. At seven p.m., I was so angry and depressed I started talking to myself. I said, "God, are you there? And if you are there, are you seeing us? And if you are seeing us, are you satisfied with what is happening to us?" Finally, a little after seven p.m., I gave up and came back to Bethlehem and stayed at the center.

Another time that same year, I tried to walk home past the checkpoint. The Israelis had blocked the road with large stones. I wanted to go around the stones, because I couldn't climb over them with my leg problems. It was also slippery, because it was wintertime. But a soldier, a man less than twenty-five years old, stopped me from going around. When I tried to explain, the soldier said bad things to me - nobody in my life has said these things to me. He called me a prostitute. I can't repeat all the things he said. I became angry and I started to argue, and at that moment, a young man, Palestinian, tried to calm me down and asked me to stay quiet. He took my hand and helped me pass the checkpoint. At that moment I couldn't talk. I passed the checkpoint, and my brother was waiting for me on the other side. He took me by my hand and led me to his car, where my nephews and nieces were waiting. Normally I would talk to them, but I couldn't say a word. I knew that if I spoke, I'd start crying, and nobody would be able to stop me. I reached home and I threw myself on the bed. I felt I was paralyzed completely.

I saw the soldier the next day. I had a feeling that if I'd had a gun, I would have killed him. You know, I can't kill an insect, but in that moment, I felt my anger was more than it's been at any time. When he saw me, he began swearing at me again. It was very humiliating. I saw that soldier many times-usually soldiers would stay one week or ten days before they changed the group of soldiers at the checkpoints. I had to see him every day. And every day I looked at him and wished that someone would kill him in front of me. I wanted him to suffer.

One more occasion stands out from that checkpoint during the Second Intifada - I'm not sure exactly when. I remember a little girl was crying. She needed to get to school to take exams, and the soldier wouldn't let her. It's not guaranteed that a child is able to go to school. And it's not guaranteed that the child will be able to come back. Of course, this kind of helplessness has a psychological impact on kids as they grow up. Many parents have told us that their children have nightmares and achievement problems. Children look to us adults as people who can protect them, and when we can't - in many situations, we're scared! To see the child recognize that his mother is scared, his father is scared-it's not an easy thing.

When you move around Bethlehem, it's very restricted. We don't travel long distances. When you face a checkpoint or a wall, you might need to travel only a mile or two as the crow flies, but your destination is far away behind the wall. The children I teach don't have a good sense of distance because of the restrictions. They might say they live "far away," and I'll ask, "How far?" And it's a ten-minute car ride away, if not for checkpoints. That's far for them, because that fifteen minutes might actually be an hour or two most days. Sometimes I try to put all the obstacles in the back of my mind - the checkpoints, the harassments - to try and keep up my energy for my work, to keep my optimism for the future. But when I'm waiting at checkpoints, I have to face the hard realities of our lives. And the children I deal with they also have to face these realities, and before they're even fully grown they have to face them without guidance, without someone to protect them.

THE SIGN JUST SAID "OTHERS"

Back in 1994, just after we'd started the center, we used to take students to Jerusalem for trips, to spend the day in the city. It was possible then. Since the Second Intifada, it's not possible to take the class to Jerusalem.

I think this is the first generation of Palestinians that isn't able to see Jerusalem easily. Now we only talk about Jerusalem. At the center, when we ask the children, "What is Jerusalem?" they only know about the Dome of the Rock.¹¹ That's all Jerusalem is for them. They've never experienced the city - to see it with true senses, to feel it, to smell it. They only know it through photos. I think it's really demoralizing that this experience, something that used to be essential to being Palestinian, has vanished. I think the Israeli government wants other parts of Palestine - Gaza, Jerusalem - banished from our minds. The new generation, these children might never come to Jerusalem. After years, how will it be in their mind? They won't think of it as Palestine.

Here in the center, we try to keep students connected with the different parts of Palestine, even if it's only through photos, movies, films anything. For instance, I want our students to understand that Gaza is part of Palestine. This is my hope for all Palestinians in the West Bank, that if they have the opportunity, even if it takes a lot of effort, to go and visit Gaza. I think it's our duty. Many people have lost their lives to keep Gaza and the West Bank one land. I'm not losing my life, but I have put in some real effort to go there.

In 2011, I went to Gaza to facilitate an outreach program. I was with a German colleague who worked for a German NGO that addressed international development projects. The German NGO was trying to fund a cultural center in Gaza that used our center in Bethlehem as a model. The Israelis keep a tight control on who gets into Gaza, so the permits to visit were not easy to get. I had to go through a lawyer and the court to get the permit. First, the Israeli military rejected my request for the permit, but I was able to appeal and get permission from the court to go for one night. It took me some time to get permission. But even then, I had to go through checkpoints - a checkpoint to get out of the West Bank, and then another checkpoint to get into Gaza.

To get to Gaza, we took the car of my German colleague. When Palestinian workers in Israel talk about the checkpoint, you can't imagine - you hear about it, but you need to live the experience to understand it. We went through the checkpoint nearest Hebron, because from Bethlehem it is the most direct route to Gaza.¹² It was the first time I was at that checkpoint. I can't imagine the mind that designed that checkpoint. It's a kind of torture. We tried to pass through the checkpoint in her car. We thought we might have an easier time in her car since she was an international. She passed right through in her car at first, but then a soldier stepped into the road and stopped us. They checked my ID, saw that I was Palestinian, and I was made to get out of the car and walk back to the checkpoint building a fifteen-minute walk! It was difficult for me to walk all that way with my brace. When I got back to the checkpoint, I was put in line with the rest of the Palestinians. It was around seven a.m., so most of the people there were workers. We were herded in lines through cages, and all around us were young soldiers with guns. There were only three or four other women in line, and they all passed through with no extra delay. But not me.

All the Palestinians have to pass through metal detectors. I failed the detector because of my metal leg brace. The soldiers had to examine me personally because I couldn't just take off the metal and pass through the detector. Soldiers behind security glass told me that I'd need to be taken to a special cell. The whole time I was at the checkpoint, I hardly ever talked to a soldier directly - it was through microphones, since they were always behind glass.

I was taken to a cell with no chairs. The walls were all metal with no windows, and I couldn't see anyone. I stood waiting for half an hour. I thought they might have forgotten about me. Because of my disability, it's difficult for me to stand for long periods of time. I knocked, and nobody came. Later, I knocked several more times, to remind them that there was somebody here.

Then I was taken to another room, also like a cell - just five feet by five feet. Here there was a soldier behind security glass. She was young, in her twenties. Otherwise I was alone in the room. The soldier was dealing with me as if I didn't exist. She ignored me and didn't bother to explain what would happen next. She just sat there behind the glass. From time to time I would knock, or ask her to please search me so I could leave the cell, and she'd say, "I'm just waiting for someone to come." For an hour she left me standing there.

Then another soldier joined her behind the glass. They told me to undress. I said, "I can't, there's a camera." She looked at it and said flatly, "Yes, there's a camera in the room." Every checkpoint has a Palestinian mediator, someone to translate and do chores for the soldiers, and I made them get him for me. This took a long time. Eventually, he arrived and I talked to him. He put his jacket on the camera and then brought me something to put on. I got undressed and then the soldiers told me how to move so they could examine me. Then I put on the clothes the mediator brought while he took my other clothes for them to examine. More waiting. After everything was over, the mediator took his jacket and left, and then I was taken to pass through the metal detector again.

The whole time, my colleague was outside in the car waiting for me. It had been hours. Then, once we made it to the Gaza border, it was the same procedure. My German colleague was allowed to pass quickly through the checkpoint, while I had to go through procedures strictly for Palestinians, not for foreigners. At the Erez checkpoint, we were not in the car.¹³ We had to park, and after you pass through the checkpoint, everyone has to walk through a mile-long tunnel to where the taxis are.

The tunnel was an open-air tunnel, with fencing on both sides. It was narrow-not big enough for a car to drive through. Outside the fence was a barren, treeless security area. My colleague had waited for me so we could walk the tunnel together, but a mile is very far for me to walk. I had to sit on a luggage cart of another Palestinian who pushed me the whole way. It was a struggle for me. I like to think of myself as strong, independent. I do things on my own. It's not easy for me to sit on a luggage cart and be pushed!

We finally made it to Gaza after hours going through the checkpoints. We went directly to the organization because we couldn't waste time. They only issued me a permit for one day! It's ridiculous to not be able to visit your own country. We can move freely in other countries, but not in our own.

After I finished my trip to Gaza, I had to go back through screening at Erez. This time, at the start of the checkpoint, I saw the two signs-one for "Israelis and Foreigners," and the other just said, "Others." You know, it's like they want us to feel that we belong to nothing. They could write "Palestinians," they could write "Arabs," but "Others"?

Going through the tunnel, there were open-air cells along the way. They were more modern than the Hebron checkpoint, but the same principle. The soldiers were all on high scaffolding with guns. They looked down on us from up high and talked into microphones. They would say things like, "Open gate number 2. Open gate number 10." And they'd tell us to move along. The whole time, we could see soldiers on the scaffolding, but we could never see exactly who was talking to us and ordering us onward to the next cell. The last cell had a ceiling and a grated floor. A soldier behind the glass was there. She asked me to take off my clothes. We negotiated what I could take off and leave on. I took off my trousers and my brace and put them on the conveyor belt. She checked them and then put my things back on the machine to send back to me. I waited for them to contact the people who got me a permit. It took a long time. I thought I had already negotiated all the permits I needed, so it would be fine, but no. They made me wait anyway.

I've spoken with some friends and some people at the Bethlehem Arab Society for Rehabilitation. They go through the same thing, the same conditions. They have the same procedure. It's not because of me - they target Palestinians anyway - but they could show more understanding. They could not make me wait so long, or bring me a chair to sit on, to be humane. I understand they need to check, but they could do it without humiliating the person. If this were just about security, they wouldn't need to humiliate Palestinians and not others. It's to show that we're a lower class of people. The Israelis and foreigners are first-class, the Palestinian people fifth-class. And people don't understand why we are fighting. I want to be equal! Equality! Not one of us is better than the other.

Someday I want to go back to Gaza to keep working on developing a cultural center that is like Ghirass. But by then I hope I can find an easier way to get there than through the Hebron and Erez checkpoints as they are now. Still, I'm happy that I passed that experience, really. Now I know what it's like for Palestinians who have had to travel through the checkpoints day after day for work.

ALL THINGS INDICATE THAT THE FUTURE WILL BE MORE DIFFICULT

I am very proud of being Palestinian. I have never thought of living in another country. I've traveled across Europe, but I prefer to live in Palestine. When I was abroad and something bad happened in Palestine, it would be very difficult for me to sleep. If people I love die, then I want to die with them; if they live, I want to live with them. If they face a difficult situation, I want the same thing to happen to me. I want to be a member of this society. When I think of Palestine, I think of the struggles we've had. We have to keep struggling for our rights, and there's no end to the struggling for me - some days it's for rights, some days it's to improve education. We are all fighters. When I do work with the children at the center, that's fighting. When I work to improve their quality of life, that's fighting. And working against the occupation, that's fighting as well.

Day by day, it becomes more difficult. All things happening in Palestine indicate that the future will be more difficult. Twelve years ago we did not have the wall, the settlements were fewer, the harassment was less. Everything bad is increasing. Usually I avoid going to the checkpoints, because it makes me sick - physically, emotionally, all kinds of sick. It usually takes me time to come back to normal.

My goal now is to expand the center - to extend it and spread it to other places. We're working on outreach programs, to reach schools and other communities that are struggling just to continue to exist. Some villages are surrounded by Israeli settlements and are cut off from important resources. We are looking to support these communities and improve the quality life through education. I believe a lot in education if you want to rebuild the nation.

At the cultural center, we try to keep our students as children as long as possible, to protect them. When they reach a certain age, we can't protect them anymore, they have to face the reality of the streets by themselves. And this is very sad. I can think of many times I've been out walking with my nephew, or with other young boys and girls who are nearing the end of childhood. Suddenly I would get very sad, because when they reach fourteen, fifteen years old, they are children under international and national law, but the soldiers don't think of them as children. They deal with them as adults. And it doesn't matter if they're following the law or not. How they're treated depends on soldiers' moods. I use many strategies to manage. My strategy is that I love life. I want to protect my life, and the lives of others, as much as I can. Life, even with all these difficulties, deserves to be lived. And I like to look for nice things. Even the smile of a child, or flowers-I try to find something.

I'm not optimistic about the future for Palestinians. Israel is strong, and the Western powers give them their support. On the other hand, I don't think Israel can continue this forever. The world will not support Israel forever with all their behavior towards Palestinians. One day, changes will happen - history proves this. One day, sooner or later, the Palestinians will have their rights.

When the world looks at Palestine I do not think they see the full situation. If people want to see the reality of the situation, they will see. If they want to hear the reality, they will hear. But if they don't want to know the reality of the situation, they won't, even if it's right there in front of them.

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Footnotes

¹ Battir is a village of around 4,000 people located four miles west of Bethlehem and three miles southwest of Jerusalem. It is a site of ancient agricultural terraces and was named a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2014.

² Amman, the capital of Jordan, is a city of over 2 million residents. Jordan administered the West Bank between 1948 and 1967, and many Palestinians worked in Amman during this time.

³ The American Colony Hotel is a luxury hotel in Jerusalem. It was built in the 1950s on the site of a former utopian Christian community started by an American couple from Chicago in 1881. The hotel is well known as a gathering spot for influential people from diverse political and religious backgrounds.

⁴ The University of Jordan is considered one of the most prestigious universities in the Arab world. It was founded in 1962 and currently serves over 30,000 undergraduates.

⁵ Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008) was considered Palestine's leading poet and helped lead a movement to promote Palestinian cultural heritage. Darwish was also a leader of the Palestinian liberation movement and part of the executive committee of the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) from 1973 to 1993.

⁶ The Bethlehem Arab Society for Rehabilitation (BASR) was originally founded in 1960 as part of the Leonard Cheshire Disability project, a major charitable organization in Great Britain dedicated to global disability care.

⁷ The First Intifada was an uprising throughout the West Bank and Gaza against Israeli military occupation. It began in December 1987 and lasted until 1993. Intifada in Arabic means "to shake off."

⁸ Jordan administered the West Bank and Egypt partially administered Gaza until 1967. Textbooks developed during those administrations were used even during the Israeli occupation after 1967, but when the Palestinian Authority assumed administrative control of the West Bank in Gaza after the Oslo Accords, it developed its own educational texts.

⁹ Newcastle University is a public research university in northeast England. It serves over 20,000 students.

¹⁰ The Second Intifada was also known as the Al-Aqsa Intifada. It was the first major conflict between Israel and Palestine following the Oslo accords, and it lasted from 2000 to 2005.

¹¹ The Dome of the Rock is an Islamic shrine built on the site of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem.

¹² From Glossary -

checkpoints: Barriers on transportation routes maintained by the Israeli Defense Forces on transportation routes within the West Bank. The stated purpose of the checkpoints in the West Bank is to protect Israeli settlers, search for contraband such as weapons, and prevent Palestinians from entering restricted areas without permits. The number of fixed checkpoints varies from year to year, but there may be as many as one hundredmthroughout the West Bank. In addition, there are temporary roadblocks and surprise checkpoints throughout the West Bank that may number in the hundreds every month. For Palestinians, these fixed and temporary checkpoints-where they may be detained, delayed, or questioned for unpredictable periods of time-make daily planning difficult and can make cities or villages only a few miles away seem like distant points on the map.

crossing points: Crossing points are the gateways into Israel from parts of Palestine, or between Palestine and neighboring countries such as Egypt and Jordan. There are currently five crossing points by land into the Gaza Strip, and most of them have been closed or significantly restricted since the Israeli military blockade was imposed in 2007. There are seventy-three barrier-gate crossing points from West Bank into Israel, and Palestinians with permits have access to thirty-eight of them.

¹³ As of 2014, the Erez crossing is the only remaining crossing point between Israel and the Gaza Strip accessible to Palestinians. The crossing is tightly restricted since 2007, and special case-by-case permits granted by Israel are needed.

#palestine speaks #palestine #palestinian voices #strike for palestine #part 1 of 16 #there are sixteen interviewees #book exerpt

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mantisgodiveblog · 3 days

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Good to hear that you are okay! I was wondering it you were doing better, and it’s good to see hear that you are at least somewhat! Take your time to recover- being sick sucks!!! (((I debated whether or not I should speak on Mira- didn’t want confirm or deny but decided to: Honestly, just seeing rep is so rare. And from my small vantage point of being the the vanilla flavor of aroace (I tried to word that in a different way, failed, and landed on a joke lol), I think she’s a pretty good one.)))

Currently, mostly Doing Tired. Fairly standard state of being for us, admittedly. We will persist regardless. Unclear on what you mean by "vanilla flavor of aroace", here - perhaps a sign of the fact that an incredibly disproportionate percentage of our friend circle is on the spectrum, but we cannot for the life of us figure out what would be treated as "default" here. In our books, any representation is good - what someone might like varies enough by person that it's a bit hard to gauge "good" versus "bad" compared to just... what appeals more or less to any given person.

Our personal preferences when it comes to most media, for example, are in an area where something like 90% of what we really want to see is stuff where we have to "make our own food", so to speak - though, admittedly, the way that our own personal preference tends to complicate things a bit. Our love for picking things apart is a double-edged sword, in that being capable of picking apart things to the extent that we do often offers them far more opportunity to wear thin.

We are very capable of identifying trends, both in stories and people, and this has been both a great source of fun and a great source of frustration, because at the point we're at, we're often very well capable of picking apart underlying patterns of behavior to a degree that we're not necessarily "supposed" to. Because we are who we are, this means that a lot of stories can draw... dull, after we've seen enough of it. Because we know the motions, and we've most likely analyzed the underlying structures to death and back, if the story itself falters or does not succeed at offering enough new to interest us, we tend to have our interest rapidly drop off.

The degree of this, of course, varies. Body horror, transformation, gore, and a great deal of similar topics are very unlikely to wear thin for us. Good character studies tend to be the sort of thing where we can reread the same words over and over again without it getting dull. On the opposite side of the spectrum, pure fluff is the sort of thing that we struggle to get through more than maybe once every few months, and we're of the personal opinion that fandom as a whole has worn the idea of "found family" thin enough that you could stick its cloth in front of your face without noticing any difference in visibility.

This is, of course, thoroughly in the realm of "tangent" by now. A trope, like any other narrative tool, is a building block - how well it works out will depend almost entirely on execution, and if executed well, pretty much any building block can be used to spin a damn good story.

We are, however, ourself, and knowing ourself, we're going to have to start taking breaks just to make sure that the game remains enjoyable if we stray too. We're banking on things getting worse, we're banking on the warnings on the site paying off, we're hoping that the narrative we're walking into won't dull its teeth, and we're... admittedly, mostly hoping that whatever they do with Mirabelle is interesting, because we generally prefer "interesting" to "something that would be considered good representation", and we've spent enough time being aro by now that explaining things to us will feel thoroughly... plastic.

#asks #we speak #not liveblog #thatdoganon #interludes #this may come off as... hmm. pricklier than usual? we've been primarily spending our Sick Time reading #and we're currently in the phase of our reading life cycle where the spectre of amatonormativity is kicking our ass personally #and thus we are chronically dissatisfied with 99.9% of all potential reading material because it's fucking everywhere #and we're starting to seriously consider swapping to reading nothing but textbooks for a few weeks #because attempting to use the internet to find any information whatsoever is worse than useless at the moment with the AI Situation #and if we have to read anything further written by people so deep in their own biased discomfort that they confuse it for objective truth #then we will be driven to start making some deeply inadvisable comments #summer occasionally makes us feel like physically attacking people. unfortunately this is not a great social move in many cases #it sucks that for change to stick people have to come to conclusions and do all the work on their own #there is a long list of people we wish we could physically knock some common fucking sense into. it just won't do anything useful #the world if it was socially acceptable to say “you have some weirdass fucking hangups so deep rooted i struggle to untangle them”#“do some serious self examination or i'll do it for you” and other similar phrases #tourism is our least favorite season and it doesn't even have the common decency to not smelt us in our chitin like clay in a kiln

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writteninlunarlight-years · 1 month

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hi! I was just wondering if I can get a marauders matchup? ^^

Gender: trans dude :>

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: omni, male preference.

Appearance: I have split dyed purple and black hair, and I wear glasses. I'm chubby. I have blue eyes, and a septum and bottom left lip piercing. I also have a bunch of stick and poke tattoos, there's a lot on my left hand and a few on my legs. 12 tattooed in total, and I have 8 piercings. (Both daiths, 2 lobes on each side, septum and lip) I dress either like Adam Sandler or a grungey punk forest goblin and theirs no in-between. I normally am more Adam sandlery-y bc I'm always tired

(MBTI &/or Engram if you would like to take the tests and add it) mbti is intj-t and enneagram is type 8

Personality: I'm sarcastic and have a dry and darkish sense of humour, as well as that if a 12 year old. (Think of a traumatized due who makes outrageous amount a of dick jokes) I also am very blunt, and dont sugarcoat things. I have trouble with ✨any emotional things✨. I always tend to give acts of service and words of affirmation bc I'm emotionally stunted ;-; I'm loyal to a fault, and try to be kind and help people, and am very practical.

Likes (at least like three things): doing art stuff, crocheting, MUSIC (never have my headphones off, literally got asked if I was ok and where they where when I didn't have them on, and have a permanent headphone indent) and reading/writting

Dislikes (at least three things):slow walkers, generally shitty people (misogynists, racists, etc) FUCKIN STUPID ASS SYROFOME. I HATE THAT EWIE GROSS

Extra fun fact (this is about whoever you are describing to me): I have ADHD and quiet a list of physical ailments.

~~~~~MATCHUP~~~~~

I kid you not, Anon. Two lines into your request, I knew who this should be. I was even more pleasantly surprised by my first choice!

I now present to you your match--------

Sirius Black

I chose Sirius because this giant man-child is just as much a trickster as a badass protector. Sirius will stand by your side through thick and thin, ups and downs, left rights and sideways. This man's loyalty and ferocity are precisely why he is a Gryffindor and not a Slytherin like the rest of his family.

~~~~~HEADCANONS~~~~~

WhY sO SiRiUs? No jokes aside, the man is a total goofy himbo and loves to joke around.

This man is so good at providing perfect sarcasm, especially to people outside the group of friends looking in.

He is a dad joke, so he has the dad jokes.

When he sees your split-dyed hair, he wants to do his, too, but he gets scared when you whip the bleach out.

I know it is a famous cannon that the Black family is dapper and always dressed up. I WILL DIE ON MY HILL. TO PISS HIS FAMILY OFF, SIRIUS AS WELL DRESSES AS ADAM SANDLER, AND HE IS PROUD OF IT

He is known to dress up, though, especially to impress you or take you somewhere nice.

Sirius loves your kindness to others. However, if anyone in his family comes at you sideways, he will not hesitate to bark back (I love the dog puns I can do for these)

Sirius is not good at expressing his emotions; he prefers to show you he cares by picking on you and giving you gifts/things you didn't even realize you needed. (he totally keeps a spare pair of earbuds in his bag in case you forget yours or leave them behind somewhere)

~~~~~BLURB~~~~~

You were walking to your transfiguration class when you heard it—that stupid laugh of Lestrange. Ever since you and Sirius came out to everyone, it's like his family appears out of thin air. Keeping your head down, you start to speedwalk, but it is too late. She saw you. "If it isn't Y/n, look at him running away from his own boyfriend's family." Rolling your eyes, you try to get away again but are stopped once more by Bellatrix and her friends.

"What do you want, Lestrange? Did you get lost going to your next class again? Or did Lucious turn you down again, and you need to play your part as a crybaby." Bellatrix stared at you, shocked, before growing red with rage. Before she could quickly open her mouth, a tall figure with long black locks stood before you. "Cousin I belive that's enough, maybe you should excuse yourself from the situation." Looking up at Sirius, you felt relieved and happy. As Sirius stood his ground, his friends James and Remus appeared on either side. Bellatrix rolled her eye, shooting a quick 'to hell with you all.'

"Thank you, Sirius, but I could have handled it alone." As you spoke, the three boys turned to look at you. "Naw, I know you can handle yourself; it had me practically dying when I heard what you said about Lucious." You smirked, turning on your heel you began walking to the courtyard the bell already long since ringing for class. The boys followed you as if on cue. You all chose your respective spots, Remus leaning against a tree, book in hand, James lounging out in the sun with a big smile, and your boyfriend and you sitting on the bench. Opening your bag, ready to tune out the world after your encounter, you realized your headphones were missing. "You can't be serious right now."

With our missing beat, your boyfriend looked at you with an impish grin. "No, handsome, I am very Sirius."

~~~~~EXTRA~~~~~

(You and the group are all sitting together around a table in the room of requirements for the goal of the game: straight faces, no laughing.)

James: Did you hear they arrested the devil? Yeah, they got him on possession. (Silence)

Lily: (staring at James) I need more time and crayons to explain anything to you. (Peter laughed so hard he had to move across the room to recoup.)

Remus: I spent a lot of time, money, and effort childproofing my house … but the kids still get in. ( Lilly and James broke laughing, James cause he couldn't imagine Remus with kids, Lily because she knew James, Sirius, and Peter were the kids)

(It is now Just Sirius, Y/N, and Remus in the game staring each other down)

Sirius: Always remember that you are absolutely unique... Just like everyone else... (silence)

Y/N: When I die, I want to die like my grandfather, peacefully, not like the other passengers in the car screaming for someone to help them.

(The entire room turns and looks at you in concern before conceding the game)

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius black x reader #lilly evans #mauraders #match up #head canon #headcanon #x reader #maurders era

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twst-the-night-away · 2 years

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[ Some of the information on the old profile is incorrect, but I just wanted to show as many images as possible since I don't have official art of them yet. They're taller now, with a different best subject. ]

Roswell Grey

Roswell Grey is a mysterious third-year student who doesn’t speak much, but notices everything. They arrived at Night Ravens College along with Lilia and Malleus, and seem to rely on them a great deal. If you watch Roswell closely enough, you may start to wonder if they’re really from this world at all …

Dorm: Diasomnia

Grade/Class: Junior/Class E

Birthday: July 8

Age: Appears to be 18

Height: 187 cm/6’2”

Dominant Hand: Left

Homeland: ???

Club: Board Game Club

Best Subject: Practical Magic

Worst Subject: Astrology

Hobbies: Learning new things, board games

Pet Peeves: Heat, dirt

Favorite Food: Strawberry ice cream

Least Favorite Food: Hot food

Talents: Game strategy, memory, levitation

[ Roswell uses both they/them and he/him, as they’re disguised as a male student, but they ultimately have no gender. ]

Physical Description: Very tall, with long limbs and fingers. A thin build. Silver-white hair in a neat bowl cut. Large eyes with irises so dark you can’t see their pupils. Pale skin with a grayish tint. A precise, musical voice that almost sounds computer-generated and rarely shows any emotion.

Physical Problems: Roswell’s species is very weak to heat. They don’t like to eat or drink hot things, and warm environments slow them down. Most of the things Roswell eats are room temperature or cold, and soft. Roswell has no actual teeth - they’re just part of the disguise - so they can’t chew food. They also take in a lot more sugar than humans normally need. Their species requires a lot of glucose and electrolytes to process the calculations always happening in their brains, so for Roswell, dinner is often a pint of strawberry ice cream and a sports drink. When it comes to sleep, the process is automatic, so Roswell keeps to a very regimented schedule in the evenings so that they don’t “shut down” in an inconvenient place.

Uniforms: Roswell wears all of their uniforms very properly, and always wears black gloves. Their school uniform is buttoned up all the way, with the tie neat. Their PE uniform is zipped up all the way, with short sleeves and short pants. They follow labwear procedures properly, with their goggles on and coat buttoned up. They wear their hood when they wear their ceremonial robes.

Floyd’s Nickname: Tardigrade

Rook’s Nickname: Le visiteur

Special Magic: None, but they’re very talented at levitation - whether themself, or someone/something else. It comes easily to them.

Twisted From: No character in particular, they’re just a grey alien in disguise. I read theories about how alien visitations are just a modern interpretation of encounters with the fae, so I thought it would be cool to have an alien in Diasomnia.

Relationships

OC Friends: This space under construction.

Canon Friends: Roswell tends to stick to their dormmates. They seems to be especially anxious when Lilia or Malleus aren’t around, as they’re the people he looks to for guidance and instruction. They’re tentative friends with Azul and Idia, since they’re in the same club.

Respects/Admires: Malleus, Lilia, Idia

Avoids: Rook, which is hilarious, because Roswell’s just as nosy and occasionally creepy as he is. They don’t like him because they’re worried he’ll find out their secret. The nickname he gave them makes them wonder if he hasn’t already.

Avoided By: Quite a few students. Roswell tends to ask sudden invasive questions, and people have noticed them just … watching them. It bothers them. Idia used to avoid him a lot more than he does now ... even though he still does, sometimes.

Potential Ships: Roswell’s doing well enough to navigate survival here, forget about romance.

Character Opinions

Housewarden: Roswell is mostly at NRC due to an initial encounter with Malleus. They were in training flying over Briar Valley when they attempted to abduct him, but Malleus brought down their ship with his magic. Roswell’s people do not go after crashed vehicles, as those who crash are presumed dead, so they were abandoned. After finding that the creature in the vehicle no longer posed a threat, Lilia and Malleus brought Roswell to live with them, since they had no place anymore. Roswell does not have the physical strength to be a guard like Silver or Sebek, but the powers of his mind will definitely earn him a place in the prince’s entourage. He’ll end up filling a role kind of like a Mentat, functioning as an organic computer for notoriously tech-helpless Malleus. Roswell is respectful of Malleus and his power since, it was demonstrated quite clearly when they first met him. (Roswell only respects those whose power can be proven, after all. They need evidence.) Neither of them understand the concept of ‘friendship’ very well just yet, and emotions are something that Roswell doesn’t have, but Malleus is fond of the strange fellow all the same.

Dormmates: Roswell got their name from Lilia. Before, they were simply just one of a set of identical clones. Lilia is someone who Roswell trusts for information, but that doesn’t always work very well, since Lilia has a playful streak and likes to tell Roswell harmless little lies about the way things work down here. Roswell is curious about everyone around them, although they don’t always get the opportunity to study their subjects closely … but they have had plenty of time to study Silver, thanks to his sleepy nature. Like a good guard, Silver trusts Malleus’s acceptance of Roswell in his court, but he has also never forgotten that Roswell tried to abduct Malleus. That was a thing that happened. Silver won’t let it happen again. Sebek doesn’t trust Roswell at all, and doesn’t want them to get too close to Malleus. Roswell frequently gets under Sebek’s skin for asking too many questions. Because Roswell’s known to be physically frail, their dormmates may be a little protective of him.

Clubmates: Roswell respects the intelligence of their clubmates, even when they get annoyed by his unusual questions or just … staring from time to time. Idia especially doesn’t like it when Roswell stares. Roswell’s just observing, that’s all. Azul is a bit curious about Roswell himself. Of course, the odd Diasomnia third-year seems highly intelligent, but there’s something about them that makes him wonder …

Crowley: Roswell has insufficient data.

Trein: Roswell does very well in Trein’s classes, as they’re largely about facts and memorization. They excel at remembering things, so they always get good marks in his class.

Crewel: Roswell’s better at theory than practice when it comes to things like potions and alchemy.

Vargas: Roswell doesn’t need a broom to fly. They do not understand the necessity of the broom. Also, they just don’t have the physical strength to get along well in Vargas’s class.

Sam: Roswell likes to look around the shop and ask about curious things they find. Sometimes they ask too many questions, though. Sam’s trying to run a business here, kid …

History

Roswell Grey (real name unknown, Lilia gave them that name for a laugh and they do not understand its significance) is exactly what the name says: a grey alien. They are able to project an illusion that is more humanlike when they are among others, but there are a few small things that give away the fact that they’re not entirely human.

Roswell was one of a set of numbered, nameless identical clones tasked with observation of a certain sector of the planet. After growing up with endless lessons and training, they were given their first mission: observe a creature and bring it to the mothership for study. The creature that Roswell chose to observe and capture just happened to be Malleus Draconia, and, well. You can imagine how that turned out. Malleus brought Roswell’s individual craft down with his magic, and when the injured creature stepped out of the craft, he was ready to end them out of self-defense. Having heard the crash, Lilia came flying over, and helped Malleus calm down and consider the situation a little. After they figured out how to communicate with Roswell, and heard of their predicament with no hope for rescue, Lilia and Malleus figured that they’d bring them back home, just for a while, just to see how they could help. Eventually, Roswell became part of the family. Sort of. He’s … an exchange student staying with them.

Roswell started at NRC along with Malleus and Lilia, and that was when they began disguising themselves to fit in more. It was hard for them at first, and their magic required regular recharging, but now that Roswell’s in their third year, they can easily slip in and out of disguise.

Actions During the Story

Roswell tends to observe things rather than participate. They haven’t done very much so far. This section will be under construction until I can find more things for them to do in the story.

Although I will say, once they meet Yuu and Grim, Roswell wonders if they’re from another planet as well, and they take the ‘visitors from another world’ thing very much in stride. It’s not strange to them at all.

Yuu began laughing when Roswell introduced themself, and they’re not sure why.

Why Diasomnia?: Roswell knows students there who understand their secret, so they’re safest there.

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #daisy's ocs #roswell grey #and with that i have a student in every dorm #... ok except ramshackle #but that may be a little later #anyway i hope you like my funky little alien man #people who know me know i've gotta get my sci-fi into twst somehow

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