#those are quite literally the best diagrams i have ever seen

[b0tster]

i wish any of my teachers in school were as good at thoroughly explaining their lessons as half an A press guy

#liliths mind #those are quite literally the best diagrams i have ever seen #15 minutes of talking conveyed in 5 seconds #where was this when i was a kid failing to understand math 😭

[elodieunderglass]

Hey Elodie. :) so I was reading your moss post and I had a question: you know those algae lights that they want to put everywhere? How does that work? If the CO2 goes to making biomass of a plant, how is algae so good at making O2 when there isn't a ton of it physically? I mean presumably it is pretty good at it cause afaik that's where the O2 on earth came from to begin with?

(in reference to my general grumpiness about people’s claims that moss sequesters more carbon than is physically possible)

To engage with this post, you’ll first need to know that photosynthetic organisms absorb carbon dioxide and break the molecule apart. Carbon dioxide consists of a carbon atom and two oxygen atoms. These organisms keep the carbon atom and release the two oxygen atoms. This is how plants turn carbon dioxide into oxygen. The carbon atom goes into their biomass. Right now, there is too much carbon dioxide in our atmosphere, caused by the burning of carbon, which reacts with oxygen when burned to form carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. This is making the atmosphere too hot. As our economies depend on burning carbon, people do not want to stop doing it. Many people are now interested in “absorbing the carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere” in order to survive on the planet. The problem is, as I point out, that the atoms of carbon have to go SOMEWHERE. Carbon dioxide doesn’t just magically turn into oxygen - the C atom is still there. And when plants break CO2 down, they need to do something with the carbon - they use it to grow. The C atom goes to making the biomass of the plant. If you see a product that claims to use plants to suck enormous amounts of CO2 out of the air (I argue) you should look for the biomass that it will produce. If you can’t see where the carbon went, it’s probably not real.

Anyway! Ah! It’s a good question! but there is a ton of algae physically! And it does make biomass! Lots of it! PLANETS FULL OF IT! It’s its best trick. And it grows very quickly, too. The fact that algae still produce a huge chunk of the oxygen we use today is a big clue to the fact that there is Really Quite A Lot of It. Anyone who has ever had an aquarium can attest to how quickly algae can increase its biomass. That’s where the carbon goes! Into the biomass! That’s where the oxygen comes from! It’s discarded as a product of all that growth! There’s a huge amount of it!

I’m just going to dump this whole quote from a relevant paper here:

There are several reasons for the greater biomass yields of algae versus land plants. Generally, algae have higher photosynthetic efficiency than land plants because of greater abilities to capture light and convert it to usable chemical energy (Melis 2009, Weyer et al. 2010). Under ideal growth conditions algae direct most of their energy into cell division (6- to 12-hour cycle), allowing for rapid biomass accumulation. Also, unlike plants, unicellular algae do not partition large amounts of biomass into supportive structures such as stems and roots* that are energetically expensive to produce and often difficult to harvest and process for biofuel production. In addition, algae have carbon-concentrating mechanisms that suppress photorespiration (Spalding 2008, Jansson and Northen 2010). With algae, all the biomass can be harvested at any time of the year, rather than seasonally. In contrast, only a portion of the total biomass of terrestrial crops (corn cob, soybean seed) is harvested once a year

* this means that instead of slowly growing into a more complicated structure, like plants do, algae just doubles and doubles and doubles. FYI, moss is a plant. algae is not. algae can casually double its mass even caring, and that’s where the carbon goes: literally into LITERALLY doubling the biomass, INCREDIBLY quickly. Moss will not. Moss will grow, become more complicated, and eventually flower - all quite slowly, in comparison.

Anyway, here is a picture from the paper, showing the Biomass. you can see exactly where the carbon is going. There is so much carbon being made here, they’re literally turning it into ... oil?

Yeah... oil. Algae fuel is considered to be a reasonable replacement for fossil fuels. (starting link here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Algae_fuel). Algae fuel is used as reliable gimmick in science fiction, as a renewable fuel that spaceships can generate as they go - the handwaving possibilities are endless: ‘ooh, here’s a thing that takes the waste breath of human crew and makes fuel and oxygen out of it. hurray!’

So you may be like, “oh Elodie, but surely burning carbon-based fuels contributes to climate change, because it releases CO2, so uhhhh why would you bother replacing fossil fuels with a slightly fresher version of the same product?”

and I’m like “YEAH I KNOW RIGHT? the argument is that because algae removes the CO2 from the air, and burning the oil releases the same amount of CO2, it’s argued that it’s a carbon-neutral fuel. the carbon goes in, the carbon goes out. The algae puts it into the atmosphere and it takes it back out. it’s always the same carbon.”

WHICH. THE MATH CHECKS OUT, BUT I DON’T LIKE IT. The argument for developing algae fuels is that the math works out as carbon-neutral, and that it reduces reliance on the oil industry and its geopolitics, as every nation on Earth can easily grow and refine their own oil. BUT I STILL DON’T LIKE IT.

Anyway, the trick here is to look for the biomass. In the diagram above, YOU CAN SEE WHERE IT IS. The carbon goes from the carbon dioxide into the algae, where it can be made into carbon-based fuel. The carbon is THERE. it is FOUND. The peer-reviewed, heavily researched industry is so confident in the math, and the carbon, and the physical laws of photosynthesis that algae can genuinely be called a carbon-neutral fuel. The carbon has been AUDITED. the mass is KNOWN.

So what about those “algae lamps that [THEY] want to put everywhere?” I know exactly what you’re talking about. They are glowing street lamp things full of algae and they have the amazing claim of “fixing as much carbon dioxide as 200 trees.”

Those appear to be bullshit. Sorry.

However, on Tumblr, you will find a lot of posts about the algae lamps. I know. I’ve seen them. And I really wanted to believe in them! I may have even reblogged one! But then I just couldn’t find any more evidence about them. And neither could these science bloggers who tried to track down ANY ANSWERS AT ALL in 2012, https://www.citylab.com/life/2012/04/streetlight-powered-algae-actually-possible/1854/ and again in 2015. https://www.zmescience.com/science/biology/the-green-algae-street-lamps-that-suck-up-co2/

The algae were reported on in 2012 and 2013 as a funky startup invention, but apparently, only one lamp was ever made. The inventor, an utterly obscure man known as Pierre Calleja, does not appear to have a scholarly record and his scientific qualifications are a bit murky. A few scientists appeared to have asked, “Since algae grows so quickly, what will you do when they overgrow the container/ block the light?” and “Anyone who has maintained an aquarium know that removing the algae - even if you want algae! is part of maintenance; won’t these require a huge amount of maintenance?” and there was no answer. There was definitely no peer-reviewed research. The claim of “fixing as much carbon as 200 trees” (by generating equivalent biomass) cannot be backed up because all of the actual materials have disappeared from the web. The TED talk he did is gone. The startup has vanished. The website is gone. Considering that it attracted millions of dollars of investments, that’s sad news for stakeholders, but normal for a startup based on an idea easily blocked by the question, “don’t you need to clean it.”

Calleja reappeared in the news in 2017, having left the lamp startup (the article has some explanations - apparently the issue was ‘finance people’) and now he wants to make vegetarian smoked salmon out of algae. https://thefishsite.com/articles/algae-can-spearhead-a-culinary-revolution So I think it’s fair to say that the lamps didn’t work and aren’t going anywhere and have disappointed a lot of people and wasted a lot of money. However, I like his new project better. It’s obvious where the biomass is going. It’s going into the fake meat! Carry on, Pierre!

“They” are not going to put them “everywhere” because there is no secret panel of “Them” who, like, Decide Things. There was one inventor, a few reporters who talked about him, no scientific research, no marketable product was ever created, and now the creator is trying to generate fish. Just because that post has 6 bajillion notes on Tumblr doesn’t mean it’s real.

(It’s a bit awkward because two of the science communicators who reported on the lamps are friends of mine, and I know that they simply reported on it in good faith as an interesting bit of pop news, based on the now-vanished TED talk. The tumblr post in the screencap claims its source as Jess’s 2012 snippet from the Grist, which was just meant to be a cheerful description of a cool Youtube video of Pierre Calleja’s TED talk... which has now vanished from the internet entirely. She wasn’t reporting on research, just pointing out a cool video. But yeah, the ‘‘‘‘‘source’‘‘‘‘‘‘ for the Tumblr post we’ve all seen is ... literally just my friend, mentioning a cool TED talk she saw. in 2012. Which is now gone. Because the startup folded with its tail between its legs. And people are using it as a ‘source’, which I don’t think is fair!)

#conservation and ecology #climate change #dark internet show me the forbidden biomass #kyidyl

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 25: To Want and To Have

Some want what they can’t have. Others have what they don’t want. And there are some that wish they could let go of what they want the most. 

Warning: Smut under the cut :)

(Art is by @le-mooon)

Read here or on AO3!

*********************

Dorian squinted at the papers before him. His desk was full of them, so full, in fact, that he could barely see the dark mahogany wood underneath the layers of parchment spread out in a messy array. He had been at this for days, weeks, it felt like, ever since they had all returned from the Emerald Graves. His head was heavy, the diagrams and glyphs he had copied from the Venatori ritual dancing behind his eyelids, even when he closed them for the night. Most of them were confusing and incomprehensible, but there was something so familiar in them that Dorian couldn’t help but wrack his brain to find it. It was driving him quite mad.

With a heavy sigh, he glanced outside the library window, overlooking the training grounds. Too often had he stood there, watching Trevelyan practice with Heir. Hours could pass without him realising it, following with keen eyes as Trevelyn flowed through the various poses, tight muscles flexing and relaxing under his pale skin, flushed from the sun and the exertion, blonde strands clinging to the sweat at the nape of his neck. Dorian’s heart thrummed with longing when he looked down to find the grounds void of Trevelyan’s presence. It felt to him like they had been apart for ages, although it was little less than a week.

It was with a hint of reluctance that he turned back to his research. He smoothed his fingers over a yellow and wrinkled piece of parchment, one he had found in a dusty corner of the library. It was a thesis on mind-control spells and their effects on small rodents by one Marcellus Tulius, that Dorian hadn’t at all expected to find there. It seemed unlikely that even a sliver of Imperium research had found its way to Skyhold, yet there it was, right before him. Unexpected discoveries like these always excited him, and this time was no exception. Still, he wasn’t sure how much of help this would be in his current research.

He was about to gather all of the papers and call it a day, when a memory tugged at him as his eyes fell on the old parchment again. He remembered the last time he had found something like that, when he was still under Alexeus’ tutelage. It had been an exceedingly hot day, a scorching western wind blowing from the dessert. Sand and dust hung over the tall marble spires of Minrathous, the sky tinged in hues of blue and muted yellow as Dorian had weaved his way through the crowded streets on his way to the Grand Library.

Small beads of sweat had clung to his brow when he was finally away from the stifling heat and into the magically induced coolness of the Library inner. His feet had taken him down the narrow marble stairs towards the underground library, reserved for high ranking members. He had been looking for a certain thesis on time magic, but as usual he had veered off that to brush the tips of his fingers over ancient scrolls and documents. It was there that a scroll had fallen from the shelves, the leather binding around it almost crumbling with age. The glyphs etched on the smooth surface were unlike any he had ever seen. Eleganty, flowy lines, precise to the point of madness, incantations in ancient languages lost to time. His eyes had widened so, he had thought they would pop out of their sockets. Blood magic at its finest- if it could ever be called that- and so terribly similar to the ones the Venatori had been using that it could not be a coincidence.

Dorian’s pulse quickened as he snatched his notes from his desk, trying to compare them to the glyphs of his memory. Yes, they looked vaguely similar. Unless his memory betrayed him, which was very rarely the case. If this ritual was based on the one he had seen on that scroll, then that would mean… No, it was impossible. The magic described in that scroll was powerful enough to subdue a dragon to the caster’s will. A dragon filled to the brim with lyrium, at that. The Venatori mages had done much to reduce the spell’s potency, but even so it was no surprise that the poor people they had used it on perished almost straight away. What in the Void could the Venatori possibly be doing?

He stood up abruptly, clutching his notes close to his chest. He had to tell Trevelyan. He had to tell him straightaway. This couldn’t wait. He would pull him out of whatever meeting he was in, even if he had to fight his way through his armoured guards. He would-

Oh. Yes. Of course. Trevelyan wasn’t there. How could he forget?

He sat back down with a soft exhale, absently arranging the papers in neat stacks. He would need to send a letter to Maevaris, asking her to look for the mysterious scroll, or any other work written by that mage, even though he Dorian wondered how easily it would be found again after so long. Maevaris had always been thrifty with her resources, but even she couldn’t work miracles.

A calloused hand with ragged, bitten nails flew past his shoulder to snatch the paper Dorian was holding, startling him from his thoughts.

“Oi,” Sera’s voice said. “What in the frigging Void are those squiggles?” She tilted her face this way and that, features smushing in a confused frown. “That what you stare at all day?”

“Give that back.” Dorian stood up, taking a step towards her as she backed away, giggling, holding the paper out of his reach. “Sera.”

Sera let out a shrill laugh, perching herself on the back of the armchair in the corner. “And here I thought it would be a naughty letter. Must have loads of those, right?”

“Whatever are you talking about, my dear?”

“You and Quizzie-butt, ‘course!” she explained. “I bet you send all sorts of notes to each other. Telling him how you’re going to stab him. Or is it him that does the stabbing? Do you draw him pictures of your staff, too?” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Sera, I’m going to need this paper back now.”

She pretended not to hear him, curiously examining the glyphs on the parchment in her hands, squinting. “If his bits look like that, it’s no wonder you act like you have a bloody stick up your arse all the time. Yeesh.”

“Sera-”

“Fine, fine, here you go. Wouldn’t want that thing anywhere near me, anyway.” She handed the paper back to him and Dorian snatched it away, huffing in annoyance. She slid off the armchair, hands- for once- clasped behind her back as she perused the neatly arranged books on his shelf. “I heard His Inky-arse-ness will be back within the week. Can’t wait for a proper round of jousting, eh? That might brighten up that sour mood of yours.”

Dorian gritted his teeth, shooting a cautious glance around the rotunda. Thankfully, there weren’t many researchers on the floor at that time of day, most of them having left for lunch. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Any buckets of water to fix above someone’s door? Any lizards to hide under someone’s mattress? Quite literally anything else other than pester me?”

“Done that already,” Sera shrugged, leaning forward to squint at a vial by his windowsill. She touched it gingerly with the tip of her finger, then recoiled in disgust, wiping her hand on her stained vest. “How does it work with you two, by the way? I’ve been wondering.”

“What, the jousting? Less horses, marginally. More cheers, definitely.”

“Nice,” she said, smiling wickedly. “But I wasn’t asking about that.” She shot him a curious glance over her shoulder. “How does it work, being the Inky’s man?”

Am I? he wondered, his gut clenching uneasily. Ever since they had returned from the Graves, it hadn’t been clear to him what they were exactly. Dorian may have left it vague on purpose himself, but it wasn’t as though Trevelyan had been overly eager to define what it was they were doing. Oh, he was thoughtful and caring with him, of course, and seemed to be very fond of him, what with those lingering glances and tender touches, and all the nights they had spent together in his room. Not to mention the poems and the flowers -flowers!- he kept leaving by his pillow before slipping away in the mornings, before Dorian had even opened his eyes. It had startled him at first, confused him, turned his otherwise carefully arranged thoughts into a jumble. Which seemed to be the case more often than not when it came to Trevelyan. What was going through that man’s mind was nobody’s business, yet even so Dorian could see that he cared, he cared… yet where did that care end? How far did his affection extend? And where did reality kick in, with Trevelyan being the leader of the Inquisition, all eyes in Thedas turned to him, and Dorian simply being an adornment on his arm at best, a pretty on the side at worst?

Dorian’s lips tightened in a line, his heart even more so. “Fine. Everything is fine. Splendid, actually. Yes, it’s quite fantastic, indeed.”

Sera looked at him under furrowed brows, chewing on a fingernail. “That bad?”

Dorian blinked at her. Opened his mouth. Shut it. He slumped against his desk, crossing his arms before his chest. “... Maybe.” He rubbed his temples, sighed. “Worse, probably?”

“Right.” Sera strolled towards him, sitting on the desk beside him. “He does make puppy eyes at you too when you’re not looking, you know. If it makes you feel any better.”

He chuckled breathily, looking away. “I’m not sure it does, right now.” His mind drifted to the last time he had seen him in his quarters. Trevelyan’s eyes, dark and blue like whirling pools, gazing up at him with so much tenderness, his arms wrapped around him, and Dorian feeling suspended in a moment of bliss that seemed never-ending. Of course, the moment had soon shattered when Dorian had put his foot in his mouth and started talking about exclusivity or whatever other nonsense had crossed his mind right then. And then ran away in a panic. Dorian Pavus, Scion of House Pavus, had panicked. As simple as that. They hadn’t exchanged so much as a word before Trevelyan left for dratted Crestwood, and Dorian had been steadily boiling in a stew of his own making ever since.

“I’m not sure where I fit in this whole thing,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sera. “Or if I do at all, in fact.”

“It’s never easy being with someone like him,” Sera said, nodding thoughtfully. “I would have ran for the hills long before if I were you. Wouldn’t want that kind of attention on me, if you catch my drift. But I’m not you. Thank Andraste for that, right? Friggin’ sparkly shite all over the place.” Dorian glared at her, and she laughed. “Look, if you want him, better just tell him, yeah? If it’s not meant to work out, it won’t, and that’s that. At least you can say you tried.”

Dorian sighed softly. Perhaps Sera, despite her usual gibberish, had advice to impart that could almost be considered wise. Perhaps he really should talk to Trevelyan and clear the air once and for all. Or… he could come up with a way to make up for his blunder. A particularly creative way.

"Why are you smiling like a fecking dimwit?"

Dorian snapped out of his thoughts to give Sera a cold glare. "I am not smiling, I am thinking. This is what it looks like when people think."

"Thinking about how to include sword swallowing in your magic trick routine?"

"Right! I think that's enough chatting with you for one day." He stood up, herding her towards the stairs. "Off you go now. That's marvelous, yes, one foot in front of the other. So long. Give the Iron Bull my regards." Sera’s high pitched cackle echoed around the rotunda as she hopped down the steps.

***

The headache that seemed to split his head in two as soon when he opened his eyes the following morning was amongst the worst Tristan had had in months. Years. Perhaps ever. Probably ever.

He groaned as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck. He had been so drunk the previous night when he went to bed, almost to the point of blacking out, that he couldn’t quite remember walking up the stairs. On the bright side of things, with that amount of whisky, he had managed to get something close to a full night’s sleep for the first time in weeks. The mark flared ever so slightly, a sickly, fluorescent green that cut through the dimness of the room. A soft sound, like hushed whispers, a sussurus of distant voices pulled at the edges of his consciousness, and Tristan shook his head weakly. He must still be drunk, he supposed.

The aftertaste of that terrible whisky he and Hawke had drunk still clung to the back of his throat when he pushed himself up, his stomach roiling painfully. Had it even been whisky? He highly doubted that now. His taste buds had been so blitzed the previous night he probably wouldn’t have been able to tell stale beer from Antivan wine, but now he was thoroughly regretting his choices. Some of them, at the very least.

He made his way down the stairs, cursing under his breath as the world still swung every time he made an abrupt movement. Everybody was already up, breaking their fast on what looked like sweet, milky porridge. Tristan was sure he would vomit.

“Blondie!” Varric said cheerfully, raising his mug. “Come, join us.”

“We thought you’d be dead or passed out. Was about to come wake you,” Blackwall added.

“Who told you he wasn’t?” Hawke chuckled, sipping from his mug. “With the amount of berig he drank last night I’m surprised he’s still standing.”

“You drank way more than I did,” Tristan grumbled, sitting beside him. He leaned forward to glance inside Hawke’s mug, wrinkling his nose when he found it was honeyed tea. “If anyone were to die, that should have been you, don’t you think?”

Varric laughed. “Him? Die of drink? No, Blondie. He could drink a boatload of whisky and still be up swinging his sword the next morning. I don’t know what his liver is made of, but he can drink like no one I’ve ever met.”

“I’ve told you time and time again, Varric. I have my Fereldan roots to thank for that. You born and bred Marchers couldn’t handle your liquor if your life depended on it.”

“Hey,” Blackwall cut in, shaking a finger before his face, eyes narrowed. Even so, Tristan could see that he was only half serious. “We Marchers are a proud lot. Watch your tongue.”

“Or what?” Hawke retorted, shooting him a wry grin. “You’re going to pelt me with Grand Tourney trivia until I fling myself out the window?”

Tristan scoffed. “Not all Marchers are obsessed with the Grand Tourney, you know.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me who won the title in 9:31 Dragon.”

Tristan, Varric and Blackwall exchanged awkward glances. Varric’s brows were already climbing up his forehead, warning them not to fall in Hawke’s trap, but Blackwall was the first one to cave in. “Ser Abel Kaylen the Brave,” he grumbled.

“....from Denerim.” Tristan added half heartedly.

“....sword and shield category,” Varric finished, eyeing him sideways.

Hawke leaned back in his seat, mirth playing at the edges of his lips. “What a pretty picture you all make. Add a dash of superiority complex, mage antipathy and a weird obsession with Antivan spiced cakes, and you’re all the perfect example of the average Kirkwaller.”

The three of them groaned, rolling their eyes while Hawke’s booming laughter echoed around the small room. From his table at the corner, Solas eyed them over his book, one brow raised.

“Hey elf,” Blackwall said, turning to him. “Your travels must have taken you to the Marches at some point. Care to give us your insights about the people there?”

Solas’ expression became stony for a quick moment, before he adjusted in his seat, discreetly clearing his throat. “I’m afraid I would have nothing to contribute to this conversation. The Marches are as lackluster a place as any, and the inhabitants even more so.”

Blackwall glared at him, just as Hawke let out a loud guffaw. “I think I may have found myself an unlikely ally, Blackwall.”

The rest of the breakfast flowed in a similar vein, Hawke’s teasing jokes and clever quips making Varric and Blackwall laugh until there were tears in their eyes. Even Tristan laughed once or twice, taking care to hide the sound within his mug. It felt like hours later that they gathered their things, walking out into a day that was as miserable, grey and rainy as the rest. The inn’s stables were humble, but at least the horses had been given fresh hay and water. Almond wickered softly when she saw him, tossing her head back when Tristan reached inside his pocket for a piece of dried apple he always kept for her.

“Good girl,” he whispered, stroking her forehead as she chewed.

“That’s a fine horse you have there.”

“She is,” Tristan agreed with a small smile, glancing at Hawke over his shoulder. “So is yours.”

“You’re in a fine mood today,” the other man said, leaning against the door of the stall. “You should get plastered more often.”

Tristan huffed a laugh. “I really should.” He walked around Almond, his palm brushing her shiny coat as he moved to fix the saddle on her back. “My advisors wouldn’t be particularly pleased if I showed up to my meetings reeking of booze, but I think I can get away with it every once in a while.”

“You can. The world will still be there if you let loose every now and then, of that I can assure you. I’ve found that a few drinks and good company can solve just about anything.”

“I wish I shared your optimism.”

“It’s only common sense. Good times and good people are always needed, even in the most dire of circumstances. Perhaps especially then.”

Tristan sneaked a glance at him from the corner of his eye. “Why are you telling me all this?” He moved to Almond’s other side, turning his back to him.

He heard the brush of Hawke’s hand against the dark stubble of his cheeks. “Our conversation last night got me thinking. When you are elevated to such great heights, it's easy to forget that you're only human sometimes. Humans are not meant to handle so much on their own.”

"Right." The familiarity in Hawke's tone made Tristan bristle. He kept fixing the saddle about Almond's back, checking and rechecking straps and buckles that were already tightened, stubbornly refusing to meet the man's gaze.

"You probably don't need any more of my advice, but I'll still give it to you." Hawke paused, letting out a soft exhale. "Don’t push away those that care about you. There may come a moment when you'll regret it.”

Tristan’s fingers stilled on the leather straps for a moment before resuming their work. His back straightened up defensively and he clenched his jaw. “Why would I do that?”

“You look the type.”

Tristan turned to find dark, considering eyes regarding him thoughtfully. The concern in his gaze made his gut twist uneasily, and he looked away, pretending to be absorbed in securing the straps on Almond’s bridle. “I’ll… be sure to keep that in mind.” When he said nothing more, Hawke nodded sharply before walking away. His footsteps stopped short when Tristan spoke again. “Hawke.” The sound of gravel under his boots as the other man turned back, then silence. "Thank you."

“Nothing to thank me for,” Hawke said simply. “Just stating the obvious.”

“Yes. Of course. Yet, even so… Thank you.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then Hawke inclined his head. He disappeared behind a stall, only to come out a moment later, guiding his tall, dark stallion into the pelting rain outside. Tristan followed soon after, gently tugging Almond’s reins. The others were waiting for him already, mounting their horses. Tristan drew the hood of his woollen cloak over his head as he hauled himself up on his saddle.

“Right,” he said, glancing at his companions. “Time to get back to Skyhold.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be joining you, Inquisitor.”

Tristan turned to look at Hawke, startled by his own surprise at the man’s words. He hadn’t really given it much thought, yet now he realised that he had actually expected Hawke to return with them to Skyhold. Why he would ever expect that, he could never know. His departure made their earlier conversation ring in an entirely different manner.

“I have… pressing business to attend to,” Hawke continued, noticing his silence, and Tristan nodded knowingly. “I will be informing Varric of my location whenever I have the chance. As soon as I have more information regarding the Grey Wardens, I’ll let you know.”

“Very well,” Tristan said. He gazed into the distance, at the grey horizon that stretched over the mountains. “I guess this is farewell, then.”

“Only until we meet again.” Hawke smiled his usual wide smile, but there was warmth in it now, and it was directed at him. It became even wider when he reached out, patting Varric on the shoulder as he sat on his saddle next to him. “I’m off, old pal. Take care. Keep your socks dry. Don’t get killed.”

Varric craned his neck to look up at him, returning his wide smile, though it felt a touch forced. Perhaps more than a touch. “I’ll try not to get killed. Though you know I can’t make any promises about footwear.”

The tall man laughed, giving Varric’s shoulder a small squeeze before grasping his reins again. He kicked his horse forward, giving them a sharp wave over his shoulder before disappearing around the bend of the road. They all stayed there for a long moment, the rain and wind whirling about them, the distant thunders and the crackling of the rift in the lake the only other sounds.

Tristan let out a soft sigh, urging Almond in the opposite direction. “We have a long way ahead of us,” he said flatly, eyes set on the path that stretched before them. “We shouldn’t linger.”

***

“Welcome back to Skyhold, Your Worship.”

Maighdin’s expression was stern and aloof as always when she greeted him, her back stiff when she bowed her head to him. Tristan nodded sharply in acknowledgement as he dismounted and gave Almond’s reins to a lanky stableboy. His gaze lingered on the boy only momentarily before he turned away. There were so many new faces in Skyhold these days, it was impossible to recognize them all, let alone remember their names.

He walked ahead of Maighdin across the now empty yard. The moonlight fell stark and grey on the dark stone walls of the keep, the hushed whispers of the guards on patrol on the battlements drifting with the wind. Everyone else had retired to their beds long before, it seemed. Tristan couldn’t wait to sink in a tub of hot water and wash the road off him, and then plunge in his soft feather bed himself. Travelling through the pouring rain and mud soaked roads was not enjoyable, to say the least. He had hoped he would return early enough to visit Dorian, perhaps even have some dinner and wine, spend some much needed time with him. Especially after the way things had been left between them before his departure for Crestwood...

Tristan’s lips tightened at the sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. Exclusive. That was the word Dorian had used, and according to him, they weren’t it. Did that mean that… that he had been sleeping with others, all this while? Who could it be? Was it someone he knew? Had Tristan been so big a fool to think that Dorian would limit himself to him when he could have literally anybody he wanted? When he could be with someone better, stronger, more handsome, more clever, more… normal?

He shook his head to brush the thoughts away. This was no time to be thinking about all that. It was late, and he was tired, and he only needed some sleep. He could feel his leg muscles cramping from all those days on horseback as he climbed up the steps to the throne room. The guard that was outside his quarters was a tall and fair haired man, his pointy elf ears half hidden under a dusty blond mop of hair. He bowed eagerly to him, then stood at attention.

“Your Worship,” he said, knuckling his forehead.

Tristan gazed at him under furrowed brows. “Who are you?”

“M-mathras, my lord,” the elf said, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

Tristan waved him at ease, then turned to Maighdin. “Where is Nhudem?”

“Change of guard, ser,” Maighdin replied. “He starts after the midnight bells have rung.”

So, Cullen had taken the liberty of increasing the number of his guards, having people follow him and guard his quarters at all times. It seemed what Hawke had said was true. There were evidently lots of people that wanted his head, and his advisors knew that too. He wondered what Leliana and Cullen knew that perhaps he didn’t. Information that they may have kept from him on purpose. The way those two were headed, he would soon have guards in his bed, and the way he was headed, he would be thankful for it, too.

Well. At least those guards he had could take breaks from handling his foul tempers. That should be a good thing, shouldn’t it?

He let out a soft sigh as he opened the door to his quarters, when Maighdin’s voice stopped him. “Lord Pavus is waiting for you upstairs, Your Worship.”

Tristan’s eyebrows shot up, and his heart fluttered with anticipation in his chest. Perhaps Dorian had missed him just as much as he had. Perhaps Tristan had misjudged him, as he was wont to do. He nodded sharply to Maighdin as he closed the door hurriedly behind him and hopped up the steps.

The dancing flames in the hearth suffused the large room in a soft, tremulous glow. A bottle of wine was set on the low table, two crystal glasses next to it. And sprawled on the large sofa was… he.

Dorian’s head was on the arm rest, eyes moving gently under closed lids in his sleep. The flames from the hearth painted the side of his face amber, shadows playing across features that seemed as though carved in marble. Black hair falling over his smooth forehead, immaculate even when uncombed. The laces of the violet silk shirt he was wearing had come slightly undone, and a swath of velvet bronze skin peeked from within the folds. He was perfect, and perfectly serene in his slumber, beautiful beyond compare, and Tristan simply stood there, gazing at him for what felt like an eternity.

Silently, on tip-toes, he approached Dorian’s sleeping form. He stirred when the cushion dipped under Tristan’s weight, dark eyelashes fluttering open to reveal a pair of eyes like polished silver gazing blearily at him.

“You’re here.” His voice came out croaked, and he cleared his throat, brushing the back of his hand over his lips.

Tristan smiled. “So are you.”

“Your guards let me in. Apparently, you’ve ordered them to let me enter whether you’re in or not.”

“I have.”

Dorian huffed a soft laugh. “I must have fallen asleep. Way to spoil the dramatic welcome I had prepared for you,” he said as he made to sit up, but Tristan stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, brushing a stray lock away from his forehead. “You needed the rest.”

A soft smile curled Dorian’s lips, and his eyes glided gently over his features. There was so much warmth in his gaze, that Tristan’s breath hitched in his throat. He looked away, nodding at the decanter and the glasses. “What’s all that?”

“Consider it my way of making it up to you after letting you trudge all those days in that rainy bog on your own.” He reached out to him, a long finger running down the side of his face. “It must have been terribly dull without me,” he whispered teasingly, but Tristan thought he heard a tinge of regret in his voice.

“Oh, it was alright,” Tristan replied in a non-chalant tone. “I daresay Varric did his best to fill in for you.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Ha! The nonsense you speak. As if Varric could ever stand as a substitute for my dashing presence.”

Tristan laughed softly as he leaned forward, brushing his nose over his. “No one ever could.”

Dorian’s mouth opened eagerly, pulling him in, the taste of red wine lingering on his tongue as it glided over his own. Warmth spread all over his body, seeping into tired limbs and knotted muscles, a need so intense it turned into a dull ache. He had missed the feel of his lips, the taste of his mouth, the smell of his skin, the softness of his hands as they threaded through his hair. He had tried his best not to think about him the time they were apart, kept the images away, carefully out of reach, yet now the sensations hit him all at once, like a storm. He returned Dorian’s passionate kisses, bringing up no resistance as long, beringed fingers started working the latches of his leather armour open.

“I missed you so much,” Tristan blurted out in a breathless whisper.

Dorian chuckled against his lips, pulling the top of his armour free. “I can’t blame you. I’d miss me too, if I were you.”

Tristan edged back to frown at him. “I mean it.”

“So do I. My company is irreplaceable. Oh, stop giving me that look, will you?” he said when Tristan’s frown deepened. Then, he rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of mock exasperation, lips pursing slightly. “Fine. I may have missed you, too. A little.”

“Just a little?”

Dorian’s expression softened. “Perhaps a bit more than that.” His fingers tangled in the fabric of his cotton undershirt, pulling gently. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Tristan’s smile was wide and teasing when he kicked his boots off and slid between Dorian’s legs. “Can’t make any promises.” The couch was far too narrow for the both of them, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about being comfortable, not when Dorian sighed underneath him, rolling his hips over his, igniting the flame that quivered inside him.

Tristan groaned, closing his teeth over Dorian’s bottom lip. They rocked against each other until the final latch on Tristan’s armour popped open. He paused for a breath, sitting up to slide it off his shoulders and throw it carelessly on the floor beside them.

Dorian’s palms slid underneath his cotton undershirt to caress his stomach, silver eyes blazing under heavy eyelids. “Come back here,” he rasped, hooking two fingers under the waistband of his breeches to pull him back to him. Tristan tilted his head up when Dorian planted soft kisses along his jawline and down to his neck, breathing deeply.

“You stink,” he announced.

Tristan pulled back a hair to look at him, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. “Do I?”

“Oh, yes. You smell of sweat, dirt, and just a hint of cheap whisky. So very manly.” He took another deep breath, running his tongue over the tendons of his throat. “I love it.”

Tristan huffed a laugh, a shiver running down his spine with the feel of Dorian’s wet tongue on his skin. “I should bathe less often, then.”

“Don’t push it.”

Tristan kissed lips curved in a smirk as he slithered a hand underneath Dorian’s silk shirt, the slippery fabric retreating easily. His heart pounded in his ears as his fingertips ran over warm skin, soft and supple over taut muscles. The shirt slipped easily over Dorian’s head, messing his hair up only slightly before falling to the wooden floor with a hiss.

The moan that left Dorian’s lips when Tristan’s mouth slid to his neck was low and breathy and just a touch pleading, sliding down his spine like warmed, spiced honey. A shiver ran through him as he brushed his tongue over a stiff nipple and inhaled the distinct scent of Dorian’s skin. Heady, deep, intoxicating; an earthy sweetness that lingered at the back of his throat when he breathed.

“Cardamom,” he whispered softly.

“I beg pardon?”

Tristan raised his gaze to see Dorian looking at him curiously. He hummed as he trailed lower, following the dip under his ribs. “You smell like toasted cardamom,” he said. “And oakmoss, and sandalwood… and is that star anise?”

Dorian laughed, but it was a tad huskier than normal. “It wouldn’t do if I gave out all my secrets, would it?”

Instead of responding, Tristan’s fingers slid underneath the waistband of his breeches, drawing out a gasp from Dorian as he curled his palm over his hardened length. “There’s one secret I’m interested in in particular.”

With a sharp tug, he pulled down his breeches, until Dorian was naked underneath him. He couldn’t help but take a moment to look at him as he lay before him. Relaxed, yielding, palpable, within reach. Within his reach. He let his gaze roam over the smooth stomach and the long, sculpted arms; the deep flush that steadily crept up his cheeks, like a glorious sunrise; the glistening lips and the heavy lids. Maker, but he was the beautiful man he had ever seen.

“Are you just going to keep staring at me, or are you planning on doing something to me? I’d rather you did the latter,” he said peevishly, but the breathiness in his voice made Tristan smile. His mouthy lover.

He leaned down between his legs, planting an agonizingly slow trail of kisses on his thigh before closing his lips over his hardness, taking him in as deep as he could. A gasp broke free from Dorian’s lips and his hips bucked forward, his fingers threading in Tristan’s hair. Tristan lifted his eyes to watch him as his mouth worked up and down, slowly, almost reverentially, tongue sliding over the ridges of his cock. Dorian was watching him too, his breath coming short and fast, lips slightly parted. The firelight was doing wondrous things to his body; making shadows pool in the dip of his collarbone, gather in the contours of his chest and his navel, like rivulets flowing over polished stones. He was warmth and fire and tenderness, all smooth planes and soft angles, and Tristan wanted him. All of him.

Dorian’s hold on his hair tightened when Tristan took him in deeper, the tip of his cock reaching the back of his throat, his tongue moving in broad strokes. The moan that left him was low and throaty when his cock twitched with his climax, and Tristan held him fast as he greedily swallowed every drop.

He had barely taken a breath before Dorian pulled him up impatiently, tasting himself on Tristan’s tongue. Tristan hovered over him, palms running down his exquisite body as they kissed fervently, all tongues and lips and teeth.

“Filthy clothes come off now,” Dorian murmured and pushed him playfully away. Tristan got up with a groan and hurriedly tugged at the hem of his undershirt, when Dorian stopped him with a raised finger. “Slowly.”

Tristan laughed at the teasing glint in his silver eyes, sleepy with the afterglow. Dorian propped himself up on his elbow, watching him. “You’re very demanding, you know.”

“I know. It’s one of my characteristic traits.” Dorian quirked a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him, and the sight of it made a fever swell in Tristan’s chest. He wanted nothing more than to pounce on him and get lost in his welcoming warmth, but he was determined to give him a show. He pulled his shirt off slowly, purposefully flexing his muscles, biting back a smile at the spark in Dorian’s eyes. Next came the laces of his breeches. He pulled at them leisurely, taking his time working each one free, until Dorian huffed impatiently.

“Oh, just take it off and get over here, you tease,” he said, crawling to him and hooking his fingers over Tristan’s waistband, pulling them down, letting his hardness spring free. Tristan couldn’t help a moan when Dorian’s long fingers curled around his length. A small smile curled his full lips when his tongue darted out to lick the bead of moisture that had gathered at the tip, then his mouth wrapped around him in a wet and warm embrace. Tristan threaded his fingers in his luscious hair, shivering as he was taken in deeper, the velvet heat of Dorian’s mouth chasing away every other thought in his mind.

There was something about the sight of Dorian on his knees before him, watching him intently as his lips were wrapped around his cock, that made his blood course that much more swiftly through his veins. He didn’t bring up any resistance when Dorian pulled him down on the sofa, kneeling between his legs. His mouth worked him steadily, harder, faster. He brought his long fingers up to caress him alongside his tongue, until it was a tangle of lips and fingers and tongue, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

The look in Dorian’s eyes was feral and indecent when he slid a long and slick finger inside him. Tristan bit back a moan at the unexpected pressure, pleasure and lust building inside him, spreading like wildfire.

He reached down to cup the back of Dorian’s neck, drawing him up, seeking his hot and velvet mouth. The flat of Dorian’s tongue brushed over his lips as he eased another finger, and Tristan gasped.

Dorian pulled back to look at him. “Good, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Tristan breathed. “Yes, ah-”

Three. There were three fingers inside him, yet he wanted more. He kissed Dorian hungrily, moaning against his lips as his deft digits drove deeper.

“I want to feel you,” Dorian rasped. His breath was hot against the shell of his ear when he leaned closer to whisper, “I want to fuck you so hard you weep.”

Tristan nodded eagerly, licking his lips. “Yes. Please, yes.”

The soft feather mattress sank under their combined weight as Tristan lay on his stomach, Dorian hovering over him. His breath hitched when he felt Dorian’s cock brushing against his entrance, then came out in a soft hiss when the tip of his hardness slid inside him. Dorian leaned down, placing soothing kisses between his shoulder blades as he sank, inch by agonising inch, inside him.

“You feel so good,” Dorian whispered, burying his face in Tristan’s neck. “So warm, so wonderful…”

Tristan felt full. Unbearably full and uncomfortably stretched, but he dug his fingers deeper into the plush pillows, taking a deep breath. Soon, as they gently rocked together, the pressure gave way to pleasure, deep and slowly building. His moans were muffled by the pillow as Dorian thrust harder and faster, deeper, as deep as he could go, hitting that spot again and again. Dorian’s gasps and the garbled Tevene that crashed against Tristan's skin like waves made the already burning fire inside him unbearable.

The seconds stretched on languidly, seemingly endlessly, as Dorian fucked him hard. Everything was him; he was on him, behind him, around him, inside him, his scent and the feel of his cock and the softness of his hands blocking out anything else. It felt odd, losing himself into someone else like this, not being in control for once. It was with some surprise that Tristan realised that it felt… good.

Dorian leaned forward over him, and Tristan twisted his head, searching for his lips. They kissed deeply, Dorian’s tongue brushing the roof of his mouth as he drove himself deeper still, faster, burrowing as much of his cock inside him as he could.

“Fasta vass,” he moaned, deep breaths expanding his ribs where they touched against his back. “Amatus-”

Tristan met him, thrust for thrust, his tongue twining with his, seeking more, more, more. “Yes,” he whispered. “Fuck, yes, yes-”

Dorian hooked an arm underneath him to stroke him firmly, thumb brushing over the weeping head. Blinding white light exploded behind Tristan’s eyelids, all the warmth and ecstasy and tension that raked his body and clouded his vision finding their release on Dorian’s curling fingers. Dorian followed him soon after, shuddering with his own climax, his guttural groan drowned against Tristan’s skin when he sank his teeth in his neck.

With the rapture of the moment easing away slowly, albeit steadily, Tristan was soon lulled into an unusual sort of calmness by the beating of Dorian’s heart against his back. He felt warm, content, sated. Dorian’s weight on him was comforting, his breath on the back of his neck even more so. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this in the presence of another person. He couldn’t even rightly remember how long it had been since he had slept with someone before Dorian - the last few years of his life before the Inquisition seeming like a dark, unending, agonising dream. He had probably managed to sleep with a few people when nigh on black out drunk, not that he would be able to recount much now. He had felt empty, so empty back then, and those encounters had left him emptier still, and it hadn’t been long before he had written off any thoughts of companionship or affection or… or love. Was that what he was feeling now? Was that what he and Dorian had? Love?

His heart was suddenly gripped in a vice, and his breath felt constricted in his lungs, pinned as he was under Dorian’s body. He dug his palms in the mattress, gently shrugging Dorian off as he pushed himself up. Dorian eased himself off him with a sharp inhale, his palms lingering on Tristan’s hips before pulling away. Tristan rolled on his back with a sigh, resting his head upon his curled arm. He took a deep breath, stretched his legs. Stared at the ceiling.

Dorian shifted on his side to look at him. Soft fingertips glided down his chest, following the lines of his muscles, making the hairs on his body stand on end. Tristan hummed softly, closing his eyes. “That feels nice.”

Dorian exhaled a soft chuckle through his nose, smoothing his palm over Tristan’s stomach. He slithered closer to him, nuzzling his ear. “How does that feel?”

“Even better.” Tristan turned his head to him, their noses brushing. Dorian’s lips parted on a sigh, his warm tongue darting out to explore the contours of Tristan’s mouth, as it had done so many times before. Tristan kissed him back, palm gently running over his sides. There, in the half dark, in the comfortable silence, it felt like nothing else existed beyond them. It was just them, and the warmth of their bodies as their limbs tangled once more, and the sounds of their breaths when they met and mingled.

Even in that moment, though, doused in the golden light of the afterglow, Tristan couldn’t help the thoughts that slithered in, cold and invasive; was it really just them? Had it ever been? Did Dorian feel the same way, or was Tristan simply chasing an impossible dream, one that he stretched bodily to grasp yet was never meant to have?

The bitterness that he had been trying all those days to suppress rose to the surface in a wave, choking him. He pulled away, untangling himself from Dorian’s embrace. He lay on his back again, resuming his thorough examination of the high ceiling of his quarters. The moonlight slithering through the tall windows played along its surface, illuminating the swirls and knots in the grain of the wooden beams.

Dorian’s gaze on him felt as keen and sharp as a metal object piercing his skin. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Tristan gave a sharp nod, eyes still fixed above them. Dorian stared at him for a long moment before clearing his throat. “That’s an excellent ceiling you have here. Very sturdy. Fascinating, really. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

“Mm-hm.”

Another long stretch of minutes where no one spoke. A soft click of his tongue, an exasperated huff and Dorian sat up to glare at him. “Will you tell me what is wrong, or do I need to pry it out of you by force?”

Tristan glanced at him, throat constricting painfully before he looked away again, pursing his lips. “There’s nothing wrong," he said, his tone sharper and far more curt than he intended. "I’m just tired. I’ve been travelling for days.”

Dorian gazed at him for a moment longer, silence stretching heavy between them. “Perhaps I should let you rest, then," he whispered. "It’s late as it is.” He waited for a breath. Tristan never answered.

With slow, unhurried movements, Dorian rolled out of bed. Tristan’s eyes followed him as he padded across the room, around the couch where he had left his clothes. He was retrieving his shirt from the floor, when panic, deep and visceral, rose in Tristan’s chest.

“Dorian, wait.” Sterling grey eyes snapped to him, blazing with anger. Tristan swallowed thickly, sitting up on the mattress. “Please stay.”

Dorian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, then crossed his arms before his chest. “Whatever for? You seem quite over my presence already. We haven’t even been together for an hour and already you’re making it very clear that I am not wanted here. I think…” He paused for a moment, looking away. “I think it’s best if we just let things be.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means…” Dorian gazed sadly at him, the distance between them suddenly seeming wide enough to engulf them both. “It means that I’m not certain whether this can work,” he whispered.

Cold tendrils slithered through Tristan’s stomach, freezing him to the core. “You don’t mean that.”

“I’m afraid I do.” Dorian’s eyes were soft, gleaming eerily in the waning light. He seemed so tired all of a sudden, bone weary, but his movements when he pulled his trousers on were steady and precise. Tristan watched him motionless, numb, sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress, like a stone sinking in dark waters. Drowning. He should just let him go, he knew. It would probably be for the best. For both of them. It wasn’t like whatever they had could possibly last. Everything fell apart in the end, and this was no exception. Better to end it then, while it was still early. While there was still time.

Don’t push away those who care about you. There may come a moment when you’ll regret it.

Hawke’s words echoed in his mind, jolting him awake like a cold shower. Dorian was halfway to the stair landing when Tristan stood up abruptly. “Don't go,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. He raked a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. "Please, just… wait. I-” He paused, worrying his bottom lip. “I need to talk to you.”

Dorian turned to glance at him over his shoulder. Tristan’s hands opened and closed at his sides as he tried to arrange his thoughts. His face felt hot like a pan on the stove. “The other day, when you were here... Before I left for Crestwood. You said that we- that I, uh... That you- we aren’t-”

The flush in his cheeks grew warmer and warmer as Dorian’s frown grew ever more perplexed. Tristan let out a sharp exhale, dragging his palm over his face. “Perhaps I should start over.”

Dorian tilted his head to the side. “Yes, I think you should. You’re just making noises at this point.”

Tristan shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment before gingerly walking towards him, closing the distance between them as he came to stand before him. He cleared his throat and looked up into his eyes, trying to appear as composed as he could, despite the fact that he was stark naked. “Before I left for Crestwood, you said that we… that we aren’t exclusive. That we’ve had our fun, and we are both free to do whatever we want, with whomever we want. That was the way you put it, wasn’t it?” Dorian’s lips tightened as he gave him a slow nod. Tristan took a breath to steel himself. “Is that what you want?”

“Is that what you want?”

No. “I…” Tristan looked away, clenching his jaw. The evening cold slithering through the windows was making his skin prickle, and he hugged himself tightly. “I don’t know.”

He heard Dorian inhale sharply, drawing himself up. Tristan glanced at him just in time to see him squeezing his eyes shut. “Then what else is there for us to say?” he snapped. He looked angry, yet his voice sounded at the edge of breaking. He turned to leave again, when Tristan reached out, catching his arm.

“I don’t know,” Tristan started, a whisper so low he could barely hear it himself, “how to be with someone.”

Dorian brows were furrowed in confusion when he turned his body to face him. Tristan held on to his arm with both hands, as if afraid he would float away if he let him go. For a moment, it felt like his entire life was whirling in his mind, a torrent of tangled images and thoughts that he struggled to put to words. He took a deep breath, willing his voice to stay level. “I’ve been on my own for too long. I don’t know what it’s like, having someone so close to me. After my sister died, I… I could barely live with myself. I thought I didn’t deserve to be happy, not when Tilly wasn’t around anymore. I wasn’t even sure if I deserved to be alive. Bloody hell, some days I still don’t.” He paused, blinking as his eyes burned like coals under his lids. His heart was beating so hard he could feel his pulse in his throat, but he made himself hold Dorian’s gaze. “I vowed that I’d never let anyone get too close. That I’d never let myself be happy, or in love. And I had succeeded in that, until… I met you.”

Dorian moved closer to him, and Tristan's hold on his arm tightened ever so slightly. “I don’t know what it is. About you. About us. But I feel like… Fuck, I’m drawn to you. I can’t explain it. I want to be close to you. I’ve tried to fight it. You know that better than anyone. Yet I always come back to you.” His thumb brushed over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the pulse beating underneath it. "I want you, Dorian. I don’t want anybody else. Void take me, it’s never even crossed my mind. Not since the moment I saw you. I don't know how to be or how to act around you, but I still want to be with you. More than I’ve wanted anything before.”

He reached out, fingers hovering only a breath away from Dorian’s cheek, when a sharp pang of panic made him draw his hand back. “I-I can’t expect you to want the same things I do. If you want to sleep with others, then… Then I can’t stop you. I wouldn’t even dream of it. And, let’s be honest, you’d probably be better off with somebody else. I know that this, all of this, the Inquisition, my predicament-” He stopped abruptly, closed his eyes, opened them again. He exhaled slowly, swallowing through the knot in his throat. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Least of all you. I want you to… I want you to have everything. Maker knows you deserve it. I’m not sure if I could even give you half of that.” He let out a quiet, defeated laugh.“Selfish, isn’t it? I don’t know if I can ever make you happy, yet I want to be with you all the same.”

Tristan lifted his eyes to Dorian’s once more, searching his face. Dorian was still watching him carefully, his expression unreadable in the shifting light of the fire. He hadn’t uttered a word, simply listening as Tristan talked on and on. Tension coiled in his gut like a snake, and he bit the inside of his lip down hard. “I understand if you think me a fool. I would too,” he mumbled. He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes burning. He let Dorian's arm go, taking a step back.“Let’s- let’s just forget everything, alright? I’m probably not making any sense. I just- I’ll…”

Dorian’s fingers closed about his wrist, pulling him close. He leaned forward, his velvet lips finding Tristan’s, drawing him in like a magnet. Relief washed over him in waves, enough to make his head swim. Tristan kissed him back eagerly, savouring the sweetness of his mouth, breathing in the scent of him, his fingers tangling in his shirt as he held him. He clung to him, as though he were a piece of driftwood floating on stormy seas. His only chance at keeping his head above water.

Dorian pressed their foreheads together, taking a deep breath. “I want to be with you, too.”

“Y-you do?”

Dorian nodded, a soft smile curling his lips. “Of course I do, you idiot. Couldn’t you tell?”

Tristan’s heart fluttered in his chest with the gentleness in his voice, but he shot him a sullen frown. “Couldn’t you have said so before I spilled my guts?”

“And stop you when you were finally talking for once? Perish the thought.” He held him close, fingers sinking in his hair, holding, pulling. "I didn't really intend to leave, you know. Or if I did, I'd probably come back. If only to kick some sense back into you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes." He let out a soft sigh. "I've told you before that I can't stay mad at you for very long. You have that effect on me."

“Oh.” Tristan laughed weakly, rubbing the dampness from the corners of his eyes. “Good,” he breathed. “That’s good. I hope.”

“It is good.” Dorian’s thumb ran in a smooth semicircle over Tristan’s cheek, brushing a stray tear away. “It is for me. You are the one that I want, amatus. You will have to do a great deal to change my mind about that. I...” He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. There was a tinge of sorrow in his eyes when they met his own. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

Tristan couldn’t describe what it was he felt when Dorian’s gaze swept over his features, sadness mingled with care and so much tenderness. Even if he could find the words, he didn’t think he had any strength left to breathe them into being. He wrapped his arms around Dorian’s waist, pulling him flush against him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Dorian hugged him tightly, pressing kisses on the top of his head, his temples, his cheeks, the shell of his ear.

“Now,” Dorian whispered after what felt like an age and a blink of an eye, “let’s get the stench of horse and dirt off you, shall we? It’s quite overpowering.”

Tristan hummed with amusement as he pulled him towards the bed again, deft fingers tugging at his shirt. “Not just yet.”

#cw: suicidal thoughts #dorian pavus #dorian pavus fic #dorian x trevelyan #dorian/trevelyan #pavelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian/inquisitor #dorian x tristan trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes

[hellyeahomeland]

“The English Teacher” | Directed by Michael Cuesta, Cinematography by Giorgio Scali

Sara: Not really related to this image specifically, but this week’s episode was directed by Michael Cuesta, whom you may remember as the directing executive producer for the show’s first two seasons. He directed some of the best episodes of the show: the pilot, “The Weekend,” “Marine One,” “The Choice.” I was really, really happy to see that they brought him back for the penultimate episode. That feels fitting and so, so right. 

Related to this image specifically, opening on an image of Carrie literally split in half in the frame feels symbolic. She’s being pulled in two competing directions, her loyalty to Saul fighting with her desire to prevent a nuclear war. 

Gail: When the episode first started I wondered if she had escaped custody and was standing and waiting to have a passport photo taken like Brody in “The Choice” (again, a Michael Cuesta episode). (My tin foil hat has been all over the place lately!) But then it occurred to me that it’s actually the mirror of the opening shot of Carrie in the first episode this season. The close-ups of Carrie in both scenes have a lot in common, especially that we can only see half of her face. In episode one, the other half of the frame was black and here, the other half is white. I think Sara was right when she pointed out in last week’s Director’s Chair about the transition images at the end of “Designated Driver.” Carrie’s life has always been somewhere in between the black and white. 

Ashley: The way this carefully pans down across her face, only to find that she is actually cuffed to the chair, is pretty well-done. We’ve seen her in cuffs too many times this season, and trapped in other ways more often than that.

Sara: This image of Carrie watching the suicide bomb footage on TV really calls to mind the visuals in the opening credits of a young Carrie watching war and terror play out on a television screen.

Ashley: How many times has Carrie seen something awful and life-altering on television? She was in this position in season five when she saw Quinn in the gas chamber. Shocking and devastating and just kinda the life of Carrie Mathison, tbh.

Gail: I agree with both of you, this is a great callback to Carrie in the credits and Carrie in “New Normal.” Carrie’s unconventional methods often come at a high price and this scene is another reminder of that. (And how amazing is Chris Bauer, who plays Carrie’s lawyer?! Sara, he’s even giving you some sweet ‘stache!)

Sara: Love the mustache. 

Sara: Tag yourself I’m Wellington. 

Ashley: We are all Wellington.

Gail: Pretty sure I’ve been Saul all week trying to get my kids to do their e-learning. I’m tagging my son as Zabel and my daughter as Hayes. My husband is full-on Wellington, knowing I’m right but refusing to get involved.

Ashley: The sharp difference between Zabel’s terrible beard and Saul’s luscious beard is one of the best things this show has offered us.

Gail: I love that Saul’s body language tells a story too. He can hardly bring himself to look at Zabel, let alone face him.

Sara: John Zabel is a real fuckin’ slime ball and Hugh Dancy has been so, so good in this role. You can tell he must relish getting to play this evil character, going up against these actors and actors that he’s known so intimately, though entirely offscreen, the last ten years. 

Sara: I love this detail of Saul moving one of his books back just a millimeter or so. It really emphasizes how meticulous he is and also begs the question if he’s going to realize Carrie had them all splayed out on his living room floor. Does he keep them in a specific order? 

Ashley: I WAS WONDERING THE SAME THING. And I’m surprised he has so many of them — he was looking at one volume specifically, so I initially was wondering if his commie shelf was just to hide that particular book.

Gail: No small detail seems to escape Saul’s attention. Such a small movement, but it says so much about who Saul is. And yes, Ashley, some of those books were just decoys! Carrie figured that out as she was sorting the books, which is also a great detail about who Saul is. Saul’s red book collection of asset communication is also his hobby. As Carrie says, the best lies have to have truth in them.

Sara: Ben Savage as young Mandy Patinkin is some of the most inspired casting ever. I know he’s already played a young Mandy Patinkin, but I am still in awe. The flat bill cap was an excellent detail. #hat

Gail: I love how he is wearing a trademark Saul plaid shirt, too!

Gail: Another shot of a character with only half of their face shown. This time it’s a young Saul who already has his fair share of secrets.

Ashley: Spoiler alert, she doesn’t shoot him.

Sara: IJLTP.

Gail: We don’t get this close-up shot in this scene until Saul drops his facade and asks her if she’s reading between the lines... He wants to pull a fast one on the useful idiots in the Oval Office and wants her help to do it (ugh, Tasneem agrees!). From a distance, we see Saul in his office somewhere in the West Wing, playing the part of National Security Advisor, but as the camera moves in for this close-up, we see Saul as who he really is: the smart and strategic spy.

Sara: There were quite a few extreme close-ups of Saul this week. What does it mean in an episode where we learn more about his heroic past than potentially at any other time this series? For me this really put into perspective how much we don’t know about Saul. Carrie alludes to snippets he’s revealed over the years, but even she--presumably his closest confidante--doesn’t know. Saul is the opposite of an open book, pun intended. 

Ashley: Let’s crack his spine open and see if there’s a note.

Sara: This slow push on Carrie as the judge reads the list of charges against her is devastating, and not just for Carrie. It is for the audience too, because we know the truth. It goes without saying that Claire is magnificent here.

Ashley: Listening to all of the things Carrie Mathison is being charged with — specifically because we know the character, we have known her for a long time — is painful. For Claire, who has lived in Carrie’s skin for so long, it must have been torture. 

Gail: Carrie’s lawyer is dressed in red, white and blue while Carrie is dressed for a funeral. I’m sure neither is a coincidence.

Sara: I do not like the context of this shot, but I love the shot itself. IDNLTCOTSBILTSI.

Sara: Linus being the only one in a room full of military brass and West Wing staff who understands that something’s fishy here is a very “of course” moment. I love how they’re framed in shadows here. In a way, he and Saul have both been running a “shadow” government all season, working in the background, out of sight.

Gail: Saul has his own circle of trust now and Wellington’s circle is only bumping up against it, no Venn diagrams here. Saul is playing his cards close to the vest, knowing he is on borrowed time. (See what I did there?)

Sara: I loved the payoff of the Carrie/Jenna relationship this week. Jenna coming to the realization that Quinn did before--nothing is worth the damage they cause--plays like a terrible déjà vu moment. Carrie just sits there, silent, as Jenna walks out. As staff writer Jonathan Redding said, “She was never going to become another Carrie. She can’t make Carrie’s trades.”

Gail: I think Carrie sits silently as Jenna walks out because she can’t argue with her. Carrie herself came to the same realization back in season four. Interestingly, as Jenna has her realization that nothing is worth the damage they do, Carrie is sitting at a dining room table, just like Quinn was when he had his realization in “Gerontion.” Except this time Carrie is the one who everyone thinks is guilty of a crime she didn’t commit. So. Many. Parallels. 

Ashley: Putting Carrie at the dining room table is interesting — she’s surrounded by empty chairs. You can’t help but think of all the people she’s lost, and yet another person is walking away. She’s completely alone.

Sara: ICONIC MOMENT IN TELEVISION HISTORY. 

Gail: Did Carrie swipe a pair of Saul’s glasses from his house? They look similar to asset Anna’s glasses as well. Not sure if that means anything, but it’s interesting.

Sara: Gail, you can read my tin foil hat theory on that in this week’s TCWTW. 

Sara: I love love love this transition that reveals the teacher in the photo is the Russian translator. It’s inspired. 

Gail: Me too! I also love that she is in focus while everyone else is not, which adds importance to her character as well. The first shot of her mirrors the photo of The English Teacher. We don’t see her full face until she talks to Saul directly in this scene, a small detail that reveals who her character is important to.

Ashley: Her shoulders are squared, head cocked, listening — the contrast from the girl she was in the photo is evident even from behind.

Gail: Usually when a character is having an important moment, you see their face and reaction on camera, not the back of their head. Breaking that rule with Anna over and over again throughout the course of this scene is extremely effective. She’s a faceless, non-threatening fly on the wall and surely not the high-ranking Kremlin (and presumably male) official they are worried about.

Sara: The framing of these characters in this shot is amazing. Anna stands in the camera’s focus, head tilted ever so slightly. The other men don’t even notice. You can see how she’s been such an effective asset. Hidden in plain sight.

Sara: Kusnetsov’s book is Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens. This is the last novel Dickens ever wrote, which is fitting here. 

Gail: According to Wikipedia, the book explores the conflict between doing what society expects and the idea of being true to oneself. When you set that concept against Andrei’s role as a double agent, the theme takes on new meaning.

Ashley: Nerds.

Gail: Saul doesn’t yet know how important Anna is, but Michael Cuesta and Giorgio Scali are giving the audience a subtle clue here. By shooting Anna from a low angle it alludes that her character is powerful and has influence, something Saul will come to realize shortly.

Sara: We all agree that it was 100% intentional to cast an actress to play young Anna that looks just enough like Claire Danes to make you think, right? I don’t mean that Carrie is the lovechild of Saul and Anna (the timelines don’t match!). More that Saul has a type, no?

Sara: ...And in case we had any doubt that they’re drawing a parallel between Anna and Carrie, we have this transition. This episode is filled with loaded transitions.

Gail: Carrie in the center of the frame, caught in between the dark and light, is an ongoing theme this episode. We see it here again as she makes her way toward Saul’s library.

Sara: There are multiple pans over Saul’s giant collection of red books, most of the titles unreadable and blurred. But where do we land at the end? The camera holds on this book, A Woman’s Vengeance by James Payn. There is almost no info about this book on the internet, which leads me to believe it’s fake. Yet it’s in the public domain. Did they just like the title? 

Gail: I read a little about it online. It was published originally in 1872, volume 2 of 3. I read an excerpt of it on Amazon, and the first chapter is titled “A Good Night’s Work.” Having this close-up shot of these books that follow our introduction to young Anna, Saul’s asset who is clearly a woman scorned, makes this book title (and the title to its first chapter) feel very fitting.

Sara: If the Wikipedia entry about The Secret Agent is any indication, this book is a doozy. Basically everyone suffers and dies at the end and an innocent person is accidentally killed. 

Gail: That Wikipedia page is crazy! It also says that Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber, loved this book and closely identified himself with the character of the “Professor”... which ties into Saul’s alias, Professor Rabinow. I live for this stuff--always a mark of a good production when the depth of the details matches the intensity of the show.

Sara: The phantom horizontal line on the seven. 

Ashley: That is like the ONE thing that I, Ashley, actually noticed and mentioned first. Give me a shout-out, man, I mean, DAMN.

Sara: Shout out to Ashley, who noticed and mentioned this first! 

Gail: Homeland always gives us the best bokeh. I love its use here. We have a window into Saul’s biggest secret, the details surrounding it are hazy to us at first, and we can’t see the full picture yet--just like this shot.

Sara: IJLTP.

Ashley: I love how old-school Carrie is — she’s so visual, and in her own way, just like Saul. She lays it all out and uses her hands to put it together.

Gail: Her bulletin board, highlighters and thread have been replaced by notecards and old carpet that I’d like to think Mira picked out, but the result is the same as we watch Carrie put all of the pieces together. It’s HIGH RED y’all.

Sara: “High red,” omg. I’m obsessed with the sequence of Carrie assembling the book timeline and figuring out Saul’s method of communication. For me it’s one of the all-time best Homeland scenes. 

Sara: The editing in this scene is exquisite. The use of jump cuts adds to the tension and uncertainty as Carrie herself attempts to splice together these disparate clues into something greater, some sort of truth. 

The scene is almost completely free of dialogue. Claire has to convey Carrie’s journey to the truth here through only her actions. I love the shots at ground level of her literally on hands and knees flipping through the books. There is a sense of desperation and urgency to it that is thrilling.

Sara: The Smile. 

Gail: I see what you did there and I approve. IJLTP.

Ashley: I’m a little surprised that Carrie isn’t a bit more conflicted here.

Sara: Cutting Carrie and Saul together at the moment where their minds finally sync is … quite literal, actually, but it works. In these twin shots of Carrie and Saul I’m struck especially by how Saul is against a light background while Carrie is cloaked in darkness. 

Gail: These back-to-back shots give the impression that Carrie and Saul are on opposite ends of the same book which rings very true to me. The black and white imagery continues here as Sara points out. We see Carrie just barely ahead of the darkness, looking toward the light.

Ashley: Mandy just does things with his face sometimes and it’s amazing to watch.

Sara: Another extreme close-up of Saul as he realizes that Carrie lied to him. 

Gail: Saul’s line from earlier in the season rings in my ears here. “You are vulnerable to him in ways neither of us can imagine.” But to build on my thoughts on his earlier close-up shot, I think it’s an effective tool for us to get a window into what Saul is genuinely thinking and feeling at that moment. The massive implications of Carrie’s involvement in a play being run by Yevgeny are devastating and Saul realizes it in one stunning and heartbreaking moment.

Gail: Anna saving Saul’s life gives so much more weight and importance to who she is to Saul. He owes her his life and, thirty years later, his career, too.

Sara: There is something fantastical about this part of the flashback. The backdrop and extreme lighting looks sort of … fake? It almost looks like they’re on a film set. I’m interpreting this as a reflection of Saul’s memory: we all want to see ourselves as the hero in our movie of our lives.

Sara: Shout out to Gail for realizing this Charlotte Benson character was featured last season with Ivan. 

Gail: I love a good easter egg and a good callback. Details like this and recurring characters like Scott Ryan give their world realism. I stan.

Ashley: This is such a terribly effective moment in the show. We haven’t seen Yevgeny at all in this episode, and yet he’s ever-present; closing on “kill Saul” is so fucking… ugh. Stupid Homeland.

Gail: All of Yevgeny’s shots in this scene are done with a steady camera, which gives the impression (illusion?) of his control of the situation. Have we had a scene where Yevgeny isn’t leaning? My God, he’s even leaning when on Zoom for Spies.

Sara: As Yevgeny reveals the full extent of his play--“Kill Saul”--the camera zooms in on him. Eventually he takes up almost the entire frame. It gives the feeling of stakes being continually raised. And he’s still got that trademark smirk and nonchalance, despite what he’s telling Carrie to do.

Sara: Meanwhile, the camera stays mostly the same distance away from Carrie but pans in semi-circles around her, back and forth, back and forth. It’s an interesting choice as she comes to the realization of what Yevgeny is suggesting. The camera is almost like the wheels spinning in her head as she understands the full scope of the choice she must make.

Gail: As Carrie and Yevgeny go back and forth, each one trying to figure out what the other one knows, the shots start to go back and forth as well, mimicking their dance. In film and television production, there is a term called the 180 degree rule. What it means is that there is an imaginary line running through a scene, from side to side, with respect to the camera. The rule of thumb is that the camera should never cross the line because it causes the viewer to feel disoriented and confused. But when used effectively, we get the powerful effect that it had here in this scene. We (the audience) feel the same disorientation as Carrie, the same unsteadiness that is reflected in the handheld camera that shoots her. As I mentioned above, when we see Yevgeny on the computer screen, he is centered, steady and in control. Quite a contrast between the two.

Ashley: I repeat… stupid Homeland.

Ashley: We’ve seen so much darkness in this episode, mostly related to Saul — Carrie, for her part, has been pretty much in bright spaces. Despite everything that’s happened to her, I believe that this is the darkest point in her life.

Sara: Carrie hurriedly walks out of this vast, empty mansion as the lights dim behind her. The weight and horror of this decision is splayed across her face. The darkness follows her. The question now as we head into this final chapter: can she outrun it? Or will it finally catch up to her? 

Gail: Staying just ahead of the darkness and trying to find the light. Here Carrie is again living somewhere in between.

#let's crack his spine open and see if there's a note #zoom for spies #we need alt titles for these now i guess? #homeland #homelandedit #in the director's chair #the english teacher #* #by: sara #by: gail #by: ashley #michael cuesta

[myhoneststudyblr]

So I am a massive stationary addict and over the years I have had A LOT! I know what good stationary is so I thought that I would share with all you guys my favourite pens to use in my notes and in my bullet journal.

1. Muji Gel Ink Pens

This is the pen I use in a daily basis for all my school notes and class work! It is probably my favourite pen that I have ever used to write with. I also really like the coloured pens for writing key words. There are so many things that I love about this pen but here’s a quick summary:

It basically works like normal literally until there is absolutely no ink left. This is really different to most other pens that I’ve used that have tended to lose most of their colour as they begin to run out of ink.

I really love the dark black colour, which I think always makes my notes really easy to read.

It doesn’t smudge during writing.

I really love the 0.5mm width because it’s not too thin but not too thick. It’s perfect!

It’s really nice to hold in the hand and doesn’t hurt my hand after writing for a long time like most other pens do.

Of course, even though this is literally the best pen I’ve ever used, there is one slight negative that I’ve found:

It can occasionally smudge when highlight with quite a liquidy highlighter but I don’t tend to highlight that often but if I do I use Mildliners (see below), which I’ve found don’t really do it that much.

2. Pilot Juice Metallic Pens

These pens are really new for me as they were bought for me for Christmas by a friend but they have instantly become a favourite!

Pros:

The colours a gorgeous but subtle. They catch the light really well so I use them to write key words in which I think is really effective!

You don’t need to put much pressure to write with them so my hand doesn’t cramp when writing with them.

The silver one in particular is really great because it’s really light but catches the light probably the best out of all the pens so becomes really bold when it does.

Cons:

I haven’t really found many cons thus far when using them apart from the fact that the actual diameter of the pen is a little too thick for me because I hold my pen in a really odd way so can be a little uncomfortable.

3. Stabilo Point 88 Pastel Pens

I love these pens and like the metallic pens I use them to write key words. My favourite one is probably the grey one, which may sound a bit odd cause it’s not really an exciting colour, but I use it for examples and little notes in margins because it doesn’t really stand out too much but you can still read it.

Pros:

It is a really nice to write with. I honestly can’t explain what is so nice about it, it just is.

The thickness of the line is really perfect.

The colours are pastel but still bright and easy to read.

Cons:

I use line Tipp-ex that you can usually write straight over but with these pens I can’t do that, so if I make a mistake I can’t really redo it which kinda annoys me.

On some paper, these pens can bleed a bit which isn’t great. In my school books they don’t because the paper is glossier but in my note books at home they do bleed.

4. Mildliners

I absolutely adore Mildliners. Everyone who follows a few studyblrs will have seen Mildliners because they are pretty well loved in the studyblr community and for good reason. I use them loads to add lots of colour to my notes. In the picture I’ve included some of my favourite colours.

Pros:

I love all the different colours because it makes my notes seem much more colourful and original. Everyone who has tried my Mildliners have always loved all the different colours.

Unlike most other highlighters, I’ve found that mildliners don’t really smudge pen ink which is really good because there’s nothing worse than trying to make the word more readable and end up with one big smudge.

I love the grey pen (as pictured) and I use it to add shadow to boxes with formulae in or diagrams. It’s probably my most used used pen in my pencil case apart from my actual writing pen.

I’ve found that they last a really long time. I know some people have found that their mildliners run out quite quickly but that has not been the case for me. I got these pens over a year ago and use them pretty much every day but they haven’t faded at all.

Cons:

They can smudge some pens occasionally but I think they are definitely better than most other highlighters.

Some of the colours are a little bit dark to use as highlighters but this is fine for me because I just don’t use those as highlighter- I just use them like normal pens.

They can go through some types of paper if it isn’t very glossy.

5. Stabilo Highlighters

These highlighters are classics. The colours are just really iconic, particularly the neon ones. The pastel ones are particularly popular now and most girls in my school have them. I also have these highlighters in the Cool Swing style which have slightly thinner nib and thinner body.

Pros:

The colours really are iconic. I really love the subtle pastel highlighter colours and I think each one compliments the others. The neon colours - particularly the yellow and orange - are really bright and are great for getting your attention.

They last a really long time and don’t really fade at all even if you use them a lot.

The nib of the pens stay quite solid for a long time.

They really are just really classic highlighters and I think everyone should own at least one of these.

Cons:

They can smudge most pens quite a lot.

They often bleed through most types of paper so when you go on to the other side of the paper they are quite a lot of marks from the highlighter.

Some of the neon highlighters are a little bit dark for highlighting.

6. Tombrow Dual Brush Pens

These pens are really popular in the studyblr community and so I thought I would buy a set to try them out. I am really glad I did because they are truly wonderful pens. Pictured are some of my favourite colours.

Pros:

There are loads of different colours to choose from and lots of different sets to choose from as well. For example, I’ve go the primary, secondary, pastel and bright colour sets. I have not yet found a colour that I don’t like yet.

The brush part is really great for lettering. I’ve tried to use many brush pens but these are the ones that I’ve found it easiest to do lettering and calligraphy with.

The grey brush pen is one of my favourites again (can you tell I really love grey pens) because it is brilliant at doing shadows particularly on lettering.

The thin nib is nice and thin and even after constant use has not lost any of its shape or sturdiness.

Cons:

There really aren’t any cons to these pens rather than perhaps they can go through slightly on some papers if you go over it too many times but it really does not do this that much.

7. Papermania Metallic Pens

These pens were in my amazon wish list for about 6 months but I just kept putting off buying them but now I use them almost daily on post it notes and to add something a bit different in my notes.

Pros:

They really do look metallic . There are lots of pens that I’ve tried that are supposed to be ‘metallic’ are just a bit sparkly but these really do seem metallic and catch the light so well.

The colours are quite unique because even though you have the classics (gold, silver, etc.) there are also some blue and green ones that are really cool to add something interesting to my notes.

Cons:

The nib on the ones I use the most has lost some of its firmness so the line is much thicker. You can probably see this in the picture.

If you go over what you are writing too many times it can start to clump a bit which doesn’t look great but this is one if you go over the same line a lot, so isn’t too bad.

I hope that this has been a helpful review and if you have a questions about any of the pens I’ve reviewed or any others in fact- just send me an ask or leave a comment!

#studyblr #new studyblr #studyinspo #studyspo #study tips #tips #stationary #muji stationary #muji #muji pens #mildliner #zebra mildliner #tombow #brush pens #calligraphy #lettering #adelinestudiess #emmastudies #einstetic #studyquill #heypat #athenastudying #looksstudyblr

[atinywriting]

Bloody Pen | Wooyoung Serial Killer AU Chapter 4

For the Love of Art

As Hongjoong turned his back and left to question the officers, he was unfortunately unaware of the smirk on Wooyoung’s face. Wooyoung released the breath he held in and curled his fingers. The tension in his body relaxed.

He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. No one would suspect him.

There was no doubt Hongjoong was smart from the various cases that Wooyoung had worked with him. But... it was also quite easy to manipulate logic. It was easy to fabricate the old trio tale of “motive, means, and opportunity”. After all, the best way to tell a lie was to tell parts of the truth.

Wooyoung was honest and truthful as long as the case didn’t involve himself. If it did involve himself, who would suspect a person helping out with the investigation? Especially one who had helped solve many cases for a long time. No one. No one could ever guess, not even fathom with the idea that he himself had tampered with the evidence.

Wooyoung took a few steps back to admired his handiwork. It was actually the first time he had killed in such a meticulous way.  

And he found it... much, much more fulfilling. More gratifying.

Usually, he’d use a knife. A simple slash to the throat or a few stabs to the abdomen would always do the trick. Strangulation was nice occasionally. Guns weren’t the most interesting weapon. It killed too quickly, but he sometimes used it.

This time Wooyoung had planned it out only minutes after drugging the victim. He had only 8-10 hours before it died from hanging upside down. As soon as it woke up, the fun began.

Since it was hanging upside down, the blood would rush to it’s head and keep it awake. There would be no chance to faint from the pain. Wooyoung slowly dragged it out; cutting, slicing, and slashing into the flesh. It was satisfying hearing the screams, begs and cries. And the final blow, the thing’s eyes popping out of it’s head and gurgling as he cut into the neck. The light leaving its eyes as the blood gushed out and flowed down.

But, it wasn’t just more fun. This kill was also special. It would be the first murder in the project he proudly titled, Bloody Pen. Inspired by you and in dedication to you.

A gift for you, his lovely muse.

He remembered what you had shown him on the second date. Your new book would be about a serial killer whose trademark would be riddles and puzzles.

As he read your words and spent time with you, he couldn’t help but feel something familiar in you. A kindred soul? Just like how you enjoyed writing stories of crime, Wooyoung enjoyed orchestrating a story with each kill he made to pin it on someone else.

Gang related violence. Domestic abuse. An accident. Out of defense. Suicide. Overdose. Poisoning. A drunkard killing their significant other. A crime of passion where one killed out of a fit of rage. Revenge. Jealousy. Greed.

Each kill had their own small details that made it a unique story. And this time, he would weave in your story. He’d end this theme after the fourth or fifth one and continue after sometime.

Indeed, he was having more fun than usual. But, he’d get caught after a while. It was the mistake of many murderers to unconsciously establish a repeated pattern.

Wooyoung hummed as he sealed up each piece of evidence in their proper containers. His job was done. Now, he only needed to transport it all to the forensic center. Another would come by soon to properly preserve and transport the body to the lab later.

Thankfully, Wooyoung wouldn’t have to do any extra work with tampering. The rain from two days ago had diluted and erased all of his traces.

He whistled a cheerful tune as he walked to his vehicle. After dropping the evidence off, he went home and slept peacefully till the alarm clock rang.

The sky was clear. The sun was bright. The birds were singing. Another day. Another kill. Another day he got away scot-free.

As he ate lunch, he hummed as he flipped open the pages to your second book. He only had read the brief summary on the back, but he was already hooked by the premise. In fact, it was inspiration for the next kill.

A serial killer who turned all of their lovers into dolls to keep them company.

In one hand he held a pencil, outlining and sketching the plan out onto his notebook.

Salt. Baking powder... He stopped. Huh, he’d have to do a little bit of his own research into this.

Ping!

He picked up the phone and your name popped up.

My apartment at 1? For help, if you’re not busy please? ^^ I’ll text you my address.

Wooyoung paused, contemplating to himself. He’d most likely be called back to the lab around 3-4 pm. Then again, just two to three hours with you sounded nice.

You bit your lips as you waited for a reply. Hopefully, you weren’t being too annoying. You jumped in your seat as a text came in.

Only for a few hours. Then I gotta work orz

Yes! You quickly sent your address and slumped against the couch. Closing your eyes and enjoying this small moment of happiness—Wait. Your eyes snapped open and looked around your apartment.

It was trash. Utter trash from your laziness to clean up. You also looked like trash with your messy appearance and your rats nest of a hair. And... you only had an hour left till 1.

You immediately rushed: picking up whatever you could into the recycle or trash can, dusting, and sweeping the floor. You glanced at the clock. 5 minutes left. You threw on whatever looked nice enough.

A ring and a few knocks had you running to the door. You smoothed over your hair once more and opened the door. And there stood Wooyoung with his usual bright smile. Your eyes glanced down to his hand. An envelope? He handed it to you and you took it with a questioning look in your eyes.

“The diagrams you wanted,” he explained. “I drew up how different types of wounds looked. I even have bullet points on the back to describe each one. You like it?”

At those words, you practically ripped the top of the envelope off. You slid the papers out and carefully went through it all.

It was bloody. It was disgusting. It was gory with its details.

“I... I love it,” you whispered as your fingertips stroked the papers. You clutched the diagrams close to your chest. Pulling all nighters just to search up the most minuscule of details were practically over. You had Wooyoung now.

“Please marry me.”

Your eyes widened and you covered your mouth. Why did you say that? You peeked up to see him equally surprised before his face had formed the smuggest grin you had ever seen in your life.

He was enjoying this.

“I, uh, I mean...” you fidgeted under his gaze.

Why? You screeched in your head. You wanted to crawl into a ditch. You wanted to curl into a ball and never see the light of day again.

But, Wooyoung was already here in front of you. There was no escaping embarrassment.

You were snapped out of your dazed state when you felt his hand stroking the top of your head. You flushed under his attention.

“Baby steps,” Wooyoung drawled with the ever present smirk on his face. “But I wouldn’t mind marrying you—“

Before he could say any more, you stepped back and flailed your arms. Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do you wanna just come in!?” You squawked.

Wooyoung chuckled and took his shoes off as he stepped in. Your reactions were honestly adorable.

The apartment felt warm and welcoming with cozy simplicity. He sat down on the couch and looked up to where you still stood trying to calm down. He tilted his head. “Are you not joining me?” He asked with a slightly teasing tone. “I can’t help you if you’re all the way over there.”

Right! You scurried to take a seat beside him and flipped open your notepad.

“Tell me exactly how to make the deaths more interesting.”

Wooyoung began, “First of all, I noticed the way you write deaths are either vague or not descriptive enough. You might as well just be saying ‘He stabbed her and she died’. Which isn’t wrong, but that’s also really boring.”

You grumbled with a pout, “Well, it’s not like I could Google this up. Literally, no website goes into detail on this kind of stuff.”

You were dedicated to having as much accuracy as possible. Which was why details were the most agonizing thing to write. Most of the time on the Internet, you could not find it. Either turning up with a vague answer or a blank result. As much as you hated it, you couldn’t dwell on it because it would take forever and you’d probably die before publishing anything. You could only continue on. But now, it was becoming a glaring problem that needed to be fixed.

“Well.” Wooyoung smiled. “You have me for that now.” He wrapped an arm over your shoulder causing your heart to beat faster. “Secondly, how does the killer feel?”

You blinked. “How does the killer feel?” You repeated.

Wooyoung nodded. “When people are reading about serial killers, they’re interested in how a person can be so warped. They hang on to every word. What they think. What they feel.” He gestured to your notepad. “With that in mind, try rewriting your first death scene in the manuscript.”

You pressed the pen against your pursed lips. You ran back and forth to get your manuscript for reference. After minutes of thinking, you wrote it down, occasionally drawing a line through a sentence and scribbling out some words. You handed the notepad to Wooyoung and fidgeted with your fingers.

“Better now?” You looked at him, trying to assess his reaction.

He scanned the small passage. His eyes and mouth was wide. Shivers went up Wooyoung’s spine. He could feel goosebumps rise up on his skin. His breath was taken away.

The room was dimly lit and dead silent. She was strapped to the table. Her mouth stuffed with cloth, her eyes bulging out. I studied my toolbox. Yes, the scalpel would do. A smile crept on my face as I caressed the blade. Her flesh was calling for me. Her fearful face reflected onto the blade before I cut a perfect chunk of flesh out.

He lowered his head, so you couldn’t see his face. He gritted his teeth and bit his lip. The tapping of his leg grew more agitated. It took every fiber of his being to hold his blood lust in. He finally took a deep breath, relaxed and exhaled.

You were incredible.

“Much, much better,” Wooyoung breathed out as he handed the notepad back to you. “I actually felt chills.”

“Yes! Progress!” You screamed. You tackled him, wrapping your arms around Wooyoung and resting your head against his chest. “I love you. I mean—” You quickly corrected yourself. “I love how you’re helping me. Not that I don’t love you, but like it’s way too early to say that when we’ve only known each other for a few weeks and...”

He chuckled hearing your rambles and stroked your head. You really were like a puppy learning new tricks for treats and affection. Your adorableness was such a sharp contrast to the small dark passage you had just written. Honestly, if he hadn’t known you, he would’ve thought you were the same as him.

You released him and cleared your throat. “Anyways, what else could I do to improve?” You asked.

“Not any other obvious thing I can think of.” Wooyoung put his hand to his chin and nodded. “Yeah. Your only real problems was around the deaths. You have the backstory, the motive, the mystery. And now, you have a better idea to write out deaths and you have me for details to spice it up.” He smiled and patted your head. “You’re doing a great job.”

A giggle bubbled from your throat at the praise and affection. You looked at the clock, surprised to see that it had already been past 2 pm. Did time really past that quickly?

It suddenly then dawned on you, you didn’t really know much about him. Other than his profession, you didn’t know why he was in it. Nor did you know his interests. You didn’t know anything about him personally. Wooyoung had work soon, didn’t he? Maybe you could get to know him a bit more in the little time you had left.

“Why did you decide to do forensics?” You felt Wooyoung jump up a little and he stared at you in surprise. “Um, did I accidentally ask a personal question?”

He blinked a few times before replying softly, “No... I’m just surprised you’re interested in me enough to ask. You really want to know more about me?”

“Of course.” Why didn’t he think you would be? You were slightly confused but you brushed it off.

He finally answered your question. “I was always interested in the human body. How it moved. How it functioned. The anatomy. I did so well and had such a knack for biology that a teacher told me I should try out forensics.”

“I see. Don’t answer if you don’t want to, but can you tell me about your family?”

Wooyoung frowned. Family? He looked down at his feet and back at you. His eyes widened.

What?

He stared at you. Flashes of her face merged with yours. No. She was dead. You weren’t her. Sweat beaded his forehead. His body trembled. His breath stuttered. His throat tightened. Why was it getting hard to breathe? He clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palm.

A gentle warm grasp of his hand snatched him out of his state and his eyes snapped to your alarmed eyes.

You rubbed your thumb on his clenched fist. “Are you okay?” You softly asked.

Wooyoung quickly stood up. He had to leave.

“I... I think I need to go out for a bit,” he faintly said. “Get a clear head before working.”

Without a word, Wooyoung went straight for the door. Just as he was about to step out, he almost jumped feeling your warm hand grabbing onto his arm. He turned to meet your soft, concerned eyes.

Why did those soft eyes and your warm touch start to feel so familiar now?

“I’m here for you whenever you need some comfort, you know?”

Wooyoung numbly nodded and you stared as he ran off. You groaned as he finally left your sight. Thoughts swirled through your mind as you closed the door. 

You cursed yourself. Way to go me. You royally have screwed up now.

Hopefully, this didn’t change anything between you two. You’d hate to lose him because of this.

You would have to apologize to him later. For now, you’d give him some space unless he came to you first.

#ateez #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #jongho #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #kpop imagine

[plasma-paints]

Okay, Theory Time!

This is going to be really long, so to spare people I’m going to put pretty much all of this under the cut, but it involves time and space and the fact that we might have had this all wrong from the start. Also, probably best if you watch part 4 of Observation first.

Alright, so Sean not so subtly implied that the egos are in fact from different universes. The universes intersecting for a short period of time before separating again would explain why the egos tend to come and go in our timeline. A good example of this in popular media is The Convergence from Thor: Dark World. At minimum two universes, or points in space in the movie, overlap and thus matter/energy can pass between unhindered. Being in the centre of one of these anomalies would technically allow you to be in multiple universes at once. (I like to imagine bubbles mixed with a Venn Diagram for visualization.)

So pretty simple, the universes intertwine, someone passes through, boom their in our reality for a while. Except, these kinds of anomalies are stereotypically spacially specific, so if one were to enter into one and then leave its area of effect, they may not return to their original universe. Essentially, they’d be stuck, albeit temporarily if they can find another anomaly. This is what I imagine has happened to each of the egos.

It can explain away a lot of things: 

-Jackieboy-man’s and Marvin’s abilities - Dr. Schneep’s strange medical practises (at least in this universe) -JJ’s inability to speak -Chase being able to stand in for Jack

It could also be used to explain Anti in a similar fashion, just another universe’s version, but I don’t think that’s quite the case. Anti, unlike the rest, is different. That much has been made obvious by the fact that he’s the only seemingly knowledgable one. He seems to understand what’s going on intimately. “Time is broken.” This indicates that the universes aren’t necessarily colliding at the same relative time, let alone space, but the more interesting fact is that he knows that they should be. ‘Broken’ implies that he is aware of a time when time flowed properly, possibly without the universes intersecting at all. A state of order so to speak. 

Anti though is the epitome of chaos, so why does he of all the egos know what order looked like? I mean he bounces throughout space and time, bounces around space within dimensions, and doesn’t appear to have a physical form of his own. There’s absolutely nothing orderly about him. So why is he the omnipotent ego? For that exact reason. He’s unstable, unlike the others, he’s unable to remain anywhere outside of an anomaly. For whatever reason, he can’t leave. So he’s been stuck who knows how long, getting glimpses of multiple realities and eventually he must have just put it together. For him, time is the most broken, phasing between universes at an almost imperceivable pace... He, for lack of a better word, glitches.

Now the real question is why? What happened to result in this instability? Why are universes, that for all extensive purposes should remain separated, bouncing around and into each other like billiard balls? 

The simplest answer: Someone fucked up, and they fucked up badly. 

My thoughts are that it was one of two individuals who caused this cascade failure of the multiverse: Anti... Or Sean. The narrative, as I see it anyway, can only make sense if one of them or both of them is to blame. Why else would Anti continue to appear back in this universe, harassing the egos who also end up in this reality? 

Anti makes a lot of sense, as he’s like the focal point of the chaos, the epicentre. He’s the antithesis of order and seems to only want to bring down everyone with him. He makes for a stereotypical evil entity.

The story becomes more interesting if it’s Sean though, that tipped the balance. He wouldn’t even have to know he did it, an everyday action that this version of himself wasn’t supposed to do perhaps... 

***Everything under this point is a potential partial timeline/plot theory***

I’m purely speculating now, but possibly that action was making a youtube channel. (I’ll come back to this.)

It would tie a lot of things together actually, and it would finally give Anti a proper motive. He just wants this to be over. “I’m tired of playing pretend, fucking circles!” Who knows how long it’s been for him? How many different attempts he’s made at fixing this, only to fail over, and over, and over? How many plans he’s tried? How many of them we’ve seen? Think about how calmly he said, “Time is broken.” This time around was different from his usual overzealousness. Possibly because it was one of his first attempts at reaching out, asking for help, hoping that somehow, someone else would put together the pieces and end his torment. 

It’s odd and fascinating because this entire time we might have been framing him as a villain because of what we witnessed first - the violence, the threats, the manipulation- that we missed the overall message: “Help me.” 

 If time isn’t flowing the same for him as it is for us, he could have been trapped in this in-between state for countless lifetimes: “I am eternal.” Being torn apart and stitched back together a billion times a second everywhere and nowhere, “always there, always watching.” Frantically he puts in information wherever he can: glitches, video tags, titles, social media, in those brief moments when he occupies our reality once more. He’s figured out that this universe is the problem, we’re the epicentre of a catastrophe beyond the comprehension of everyone but him. He tries, and he tries, and he tries to get someone to notice him. He becomes more knowledgable as time goes on, finds tricks to staying more stable, gathering allies from alternate realities (like those from the overnight watch), manipulating universes so that they intersect at the right places, puppeteering on a cosmic scale. 

Nothing ever works perfectly though, so he also becomes increasingly desperate. No one else is putting the pieces together, bringing his nightmare to an end. Suffering endlessly until he finally snaps, coming to a single conclusion. In order for this hell to end, he has to kill the person who started it all: our Sean. Time doesn’t matter to him after all, so all of the attempts we’ve witnessed are his end game. Perhaps he mistakenly took Chase for Sean due to him crossing universes and manipulated him into ending his own life (Chase’s power hour.) Another time he appeared while Sean was dying, and tried to disable the surgeon working on him (Kill Jacksepticeye.) He partially succeeds, and Sean’s in a coma.

Here’s where to channel comes in. If it’s the error that needs to be corrected, it explains why Anti’s so obsessed with us, the community. He may think that maybe that too would be enough, that if the channel dies, it’s the same thing as Sean dying, the mistake ceases to be. Except, even with Sean out of commission, the channel lives on. The other egos, primarily Chase it would seem, taking over to keep things running while Schneep tends to Sean. 

None of the Egos stuck in our reality have worked Anti’s situation out, obviously, all they see is another version of themselves actively trying to kill them all and so they band together. Realizing that these other realities’ versions of himself were actively interfering in his plans, he moved on to eliminate them from the equation too. Possibly he thought blackmail would suffice for Chase, so he took his kids. Instead of just sabotaging Schneep’s surgery in kill Jacksepticeye, he moves to try to choke him dead instead. An unending cycle of attempts to rid himself of Sean, of the stupid little thing that has caused him unending pain and infuriation.

Except... It does end. I’ve felt rather adamant that Say Goodbye is not the first major appearance of Anti from his perspective, but the last. Time goes by, Anti grows stronger and picks a time and place to focus on: October 2016. In order to focus himself there, he creates a sort of beacon whenever he happens to glitch through. “You all said my name,” for the first major time in our timeline, a call throughout time and space, “kept me inside.” We gave him a tether to one spot long enough to act out his plan. “This is all your fault! Too long! [You should have] listen[ed] to me!” We never put the pieces together, we took too long, so he had to resort to killing Sean.“You all made this happen! You could have stopped this, but you just watched as this happened!” He’s angry with us because if we had put the pieces together we could have ended his suffering earlier as well as saved Sean. “Now, he’s gone forever.” It’s over, it’s done, Sean’s dead, Anti presumably goes back to whatever reality he was from, and time and space fix themselves. We don’t know this though, because we still have to live out our failure in a paradoxical timeline that once everything is back in balance should cease to exist, no longer serving a purpose. So it’s literally the last chance to, “Say goodbye.” Not just to Sean, nor Anti, but to our universe itself.

But that’s just a theory, a meta-theory. Thanks for reading!

@therealjacksepticeye

#jacksepticeye #therealjacksepticeye #antisepticeye #jse egos #jse theory #mayhem 2.0 #dismay2019 #theory #jacksepticeye egos #multiverse #timelines #space and time and stuff #more pieces kept falling into place

[roonil-wazlib-at-221b]

Protection: Part 4

He takes his sweet time visiting you. It’s nearly two hours later of you being bored out of your head before he walks through the door, smirking as always, and with bruised knuckles and blood on his shirt.

You raise an eyebrow at that—as if it’s supposed to intimidate you. Oh honey, you want to say condescendingly, if only you’ve seen the things I’ve done. You’ve done worse than punch someone. You know the human body inside and out and not from diagrams. And it’s a little messed up—okay, 100% messed up, but whatever.

“I want my dog and my purse,” you demand immediately. “With gun.”

“Are you really in a position to be making demands?” the mobster scoffs, crossing his arms. He looks really hot when he scowls, and the shirt accentuates his muscles. You could probably get him into bed, but you don’t like to not be in control, and you have no doubt he’s as controlling as they come. So you ignore his insanely good looks and snap back at him.

“Don’t pretend like this is some terrible thing forced upon you; it’s your fault I’m here at all!”

Harrison stands outside the door, chuckling as he listens to you two bicker, quite literally out for blood and at each other’s throats. He has no doubt Tom could woo you if he wanted, but it would certainly be a bigger challenge than any other girl. Too bad Tom doesn’t want to woo you. He’s told Haz time and time again that he can’t afford to be distracted from the business, that the business comes before everything. It would appear he’d subject himself to heartache and loneliness willingly.

Haz knows his relationship with Tom is too personal for the other boy’s liking, but he’s gotta relax around someone, right?

“None of your assassins have half as many confirmed kills as I do,” you snarl. “And trust me, hon, the real list is much longer.”

“So is theirs,” he argues back. His face is turning a little red. You’re pretty sure this is the first time he’s actually had an argument with someone. You’re going to love this whole ‘contract’ thing.

You bring your hands down to your sides angrily. “I’m the best of the best, and that’s the skill needed to take down a mob boss nearly as powerful as the Queen!”

He looks at you with hard eyes for a long time before asking, “Are you good enough to take me? A boss even more powerful than the Queen?”

You stare at him for a long moment, your brain working furiously. He might be curious, or want to see how good you think you are, but you’re mostly sure he wants to know if he should kill you using a loophole in the contract.

It’s probably a stupid move, but you’re not going to downplay your skills like they’re nothing and you didn’t work for every day for seventeen years to be the best, so you raise an eyebrow and say with a ‘duh’ voice, “Yeah. I could.” There are quite a few methods you could use, but you’d prefer to strangle him with your legs—you have no doubt Tom Holland between your thighs would be a sight to behold, even if he would be getting strangled to death.

You shake yourself out of those thoughts. God, I need to get away from this boy. You’ve thought about having sex with him more times in the last day than you’ve ever done before with any other boy. It’s stupid, especially considering he could kill you—but then again, so could a lot of other things, like falling down the stairs or breaking your neck doing a backflip. Or an aggressive goose. Just any goose, really. You hate geese.

You regret ever retiring—you’d forgotten how exhilarating it is to be an assassin. Sure, fanfictions are great and you’ll 100% read them whenever you can, but you crave the bloodshed you’d grown up to be used to.

Tom just sniffs, “I doubt that.”

“Want me to try?” you threaten.

“Not especially.” He takes out his phone to look at it. “You’ll be pleased to know that I’m going to deliver your target right to you, so to speak—I’m hosting a party in three weeks and he has just responded that he will be in attendance.”

The party was nearly two years ago, just a bit before your dad died, when you were seventeen and he was eighteen. It wasn’t anything sappy, Tom will insist, and he hates the phrase ‘Love at first sight’ but that’s… kinda what it was. You’d just walked in next to the only other person Tom’s father feared, as Y/F/N trained and hired the best assassins around. It was only a flimsy contract that kept Y/F/N from sending someone after Dominic and they both knew it. The contract, and the knowledge that Tom would respond with a vengeance and that you would have the biggest target on your head.

You were, and still are, shorter than Tom, but back then it was a much bigger difference. He’d heard about you before, all about how you were thirteen, able to fluster even the calmest men, and already had fifty-two confirmed kills and many more that weren’t confirmed. He’d known not to trust you, that the assassins Y/F/N trained doubled as spies and that many of them worked in his own household but they were impossible to smoke out (the thought had made him unable to sleep for months, knowing that at any moment his ‘guards’ could try to kill him, but thankfully between Dominic and Y/F/N there was a safe amount of respect). He was expecting a girl, probably stunningly pretty, with basically everything a girl could want, because a reputation’s gotta live up to the image, right? Well, you walked in with your Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes and blew him away. He’d thought he was prepared; he was not.

You were more than beautiful, you were a goddess—but not in the conventional way, in some sort of ethereal way. The half-frown on your face only added to that illusion; making you look like some half-pissed-off goddess hoping to smite someone. You looked serious. Tom was immediately captivated.

He had immediately left all the simpering girls hoping to become the most powerful woman in Britain, summoning Harrison to his side with only his eyes, before leaving him to talk to someone hoping to make a deal just a few paces away from you, just in case he would need backup.

You hadn’t feared him at all; you’d looked at him with a gaze that undressed him in front of everyone else and instead of being angry, Tom had been embarrassed. He hadn’t believed that you had nearly gotten the late Harry Miller into bed before shooting him until then, but suddenly he had no doubt.

He’d fixed you with a look with, hopefully, the same amount of admiration, before introducing yourself.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you’d said, glancing behind him at Haz. You’d caught him positioning his backup, of course. “You’re Dominic’s son?”

“Yes. You’re Y/F/N’s daughter?”

“Yes.” You’d smiled up at him at that, and his stomach had fluttered in a way he’d never felt before. “You’ve heard of me?”

“I’ve heard many things,” Tom had replied honestly.

You’d laughed, a light, pure sound filled with more joy than the laughter of all of the other girls here combined. “I hope only a few of them were bad.”

“Oh, quite a few were bad,” he’d insinuated, running his tongue slowly over his bottom lip. He’d never felt this need for someone before. “Were any of them true?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You’d smiled once more, making Tom proud he’d pleased the goddess, and turned, taking a glass of champagne off a platter as you did so. You’d drained the glass in a second and handed it to Tom. His brain lagging a little, he’d nearly dropped it. Anyways, he’d fumbled with it before having a stable grip on it. When he looked up, you had disappeared into the crowd.

“What’s your deal?” Harrison had murmured, at Tom’s side in an instant, shooting his friend a bewildered look. “Why do you look like you just met the love of your life?”

Tom had had a dreamy look on his face until that. Quickly he’d schooled his face into one of pleasant detachment. “That was Y/N Y/L/N.”

Harrison had groaned.

Tom had shot his friend a glare. “What?”

“You, the most dangerous man in Britain, just fell for the most dangerous woman in America,” Haz had proclaimed.

“I did not,” Tom had protested.

“Come on, Tom,” Harrison had muttered. “She’s a witch, and so many people have fallen under her spell—is it so impossible to believe you were susceptible to it as well?”

Your laughter had grown louder as the night grew on, your smiles wider. Every time he saw one Tom fought the urge to fall onto his knees and worship you, but he doesn’t kneel for anyone. Still, he couldn’t help but fantasize a future in which you two could be together.

He doesn’t want a whiny girl who worries more about her nails than anything else to be his wife. He wants a girl who can defend herself, who can fend for herself in these cutthroat ballrooms and come out as the winner, the one who can shape words to her will, the one who can put men under her spell with a smile or a laugh. He wants a girl who he can talk about his business with, one who won’t shy away from his gun or freak out every time she sees it.

He wants a titanium girl.

He wants you.

@littlemarvelqueen @musical-whovian @lemirabitur @childofcrystals

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland write #tom holland imagine #mob!tom #mob au #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #reader insert #you x tom holland #reader x tom holland

[ask-svt-hearteu]

Hogwarts! S. Coups

Anon requested: "Omfg, i LOVE your writtings! Can you do a Seungcheol hogwarts!au? I'm dying for one" and "can you do the hogwarts au for scoups?" and "Hello!! can you do a Hogwarts Scoups????? Thank you so much and your blog is wonderful💕"

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 3007

Fifth year gryffindor

Also a prefect and the quidditch team captain

Seungcheol is liked by all the teachers too

He just naturally has that “I’m a leader” vibe

Which makes sense since he literally shouts sometimes on the quidditch field

“I’M THE CAPTAIN SO YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME”

Honestly a dork and a sweetheart though

Even all the girls swoon when he walks by

He doesn’t really notice how his uhhh

Lip bites and winking and beautiful smile

Just gets all the girls to have heart eyes

the most reliable prefect ever

he's known to give quite a few detentions out for those who are out past curfew

and likes teasing Joshua about just letting people go

and likes joking around with Jeonghan about prefect powers

he doesn't mess around that one lol

There was a rumor

That he once broke up an underground duel between the houses

Some stupid sixth years and some younger kids were hexing each other or something

And he stopped them by challenging the kids there to duel him

even though he was younger than a few

And they were like pssssshhhh we can take this old man prefect

Oh boy was that stupid and wrong

They all ended up sore from being hexed like crazy

some of them had to go to the infirmary

And with detention

Cleaning up the bathrooms no magic

and taking care of the magical creatures

especially their ahem excrement

And even the teachers couldn’t stop laughing and didn’t punish Cheol for the usage of his prefect powers

But that’s just a rumor

Probably

you don't mess with Seungcheol

Obviously his best class is charms and defense against the dark arts

He wants to be an auror when he graduates from hogwarts

And he probably will be too

everyone can see it

since he protects younger students from being bullied

and he's really good at hexing people

He’s also sort of the unofficial dad / leader of his friend group

you know the one everyone knows

Which is really entertaining

bc have you seen Cheol trying to keep those 12 boys in check?

It’s hilarious tbh

all the kids screaming and joking and messing around

and Seungcheol just shaking his head and trying to calm all of them down at one time

But he does a pretty decent job

When food isn’t flying through the air and stuff isn't exploding 

Can be heard yelling across the dining room by all four houses

“If you throw the shepard’s pie one more time Seungkwan….”

“Soonyoung! Stop! Hexing! The! Peas! To! Dance!”

“Minghao stop pulling on Jun’s robes, NO ONE NEEDS THIS AT 7AM IN THE MORNING”

Joshua and Jeonghan just casually sipping their pumpkin juice

Like yea we’re prefects too and should probably help

But Seungcheol’s got this

But no haha

Those three fifth years baby their friends so much

always nagging to do their hw and eat and take care of themselves

It’s hella endearing

because you'd think they were actually all brothers or a family

The way they talk together, you’d really think those three are actually parenting ten children together

“I just helped Chan finish his potions paper, I'm exhausted what a day.”

“Don’t you mean Chan helped you with your potions paper Jeonghan?”

“SHHHHH Shua!!!”

“I just put Vernon back in his dormitory for like the fifth time, he and Seungkwan were planning something”

“Seungcheol, Seungkwan is back in his bed in the hufflepuff dormitory now too don’t worry”

“Last thing we need is another exploding pumpkins accident”

“Jeonghan, we said we’d never talk about that incident ever again.”

Seungcheol is always scheming game plans for quidditch in some empty classroom

drawing diagrams of the field on chalkboards and discussing stuff with the others

Or doing hw in the library with Jeonghan napping next to him and Joshua sitting on his other side discussing classwork or the upcoming quidditch game

And although Josh is on an opposing team

Tbh they have so much fun playing around and challenging each other

even when they play against each other

they've been seen to high five each other when the opposite team scores

and throw combined victory parties

just because they're those kind of friends

supportive to the end

it's not all about winning but having fun playing the game

though winner gets bragging rights and then it's a full-on roast session between their teams lol

These three friends man

So surprised when they were all selected to be prefects

Like who’s genius idea was it to put all of us together

But tbh they work really well together

Because they’re caring parents lololol

using their prefect powers to keep all the younger kids in check

it's tiring but worth it in their opinion

Seungcheol doesn’t really get that much sleep sometimes

Always trying to keep up with schoolwork and quidditch practice and prefect business

But he works his hardest

And Josh offers to help him too

Even though Joshua has even more crap to do than Seungcheol

The 95 line are always seen staying up pretty late to do stuff together in the library

And while the younger kids in their frien group go out and about on weekends

The three of them study

When Jeonghan isn’t napping that is

and Josh isn't off doing frog chorus or tutoring other kids with the help of a time-turner

And tbh Seungcheol should get more sleep

or at least

that was your initial thought when he caught you out past curfew one night

“Y/n?”

You were a fifth year gryffindor too

And you had all your classes with him

But imagine your surprise when you found out he knew your name

Crazy really

Again everyone in school knows the 13 boys in that friend group

And honestly who wouldn’t notice 13 guys who happened to be the best of friends and also really good-looking

But them knowing your name? Surprise indeed

But you had fallen asleep doing your transfiguration paper in an empty classroom

you had been planning on going back before curfew but

It really hadn’t been your evening

You had dropped your charms paper in the toilet

And you had fallen asleep in countless classes

Much to the annoyance of your friends when you asked them for notes

And you had skipped dinner to study for the history of magic exam

and Seungcheol was known as one of the prefects that doled out detention bc he was supposed to

bc he didn't want to break the rules

and you knew this

yet

As crappy as you felt

One look at Seungcheol and you could see the dark circles under his eyes

He was probably just as exhausted as you were

And you felt kinda bad because you relate to the struggle

But at the same time you don’t want detention

“Seungcheol! Heeeeeyyyy uhhhh! So I know I’m out past curfew, but I was doing my transfiguration paper and I didn’t understand anything and I was ready to have a mental breakdown and sooooo…”

You closed your eyes slightly anticipating the huge detention Seungcheol was about to serve up when

“If you need help, I'll see if I can help you.”

And you opened your eyes to see a smiley Seungcheol

And honestly it was as if the moonlight hit the spot where he was standing just right bc damn was he cute //COUGH COUGH// I MEANT HURRAY FOR SAVING YOUR TRANSFIGURATION GRADE

you thought it'd be detention for sure, and you didn't have the time for detention

but he sat on the desk next to you and proofread your paper

“It sounds right except you could elaborate more on the proper wand techniques for this spell which will help you reach the page length requirement

And at some point he pulled out a paper he still had to finish for history of magic

and you both kind of just naturally fell into doing your work together

And you both started quizzing each other

passing notes and books back and forth easily

And the scratching of quills on paper sounded throughout the classroom

It was productive and a lot of trying to get everything done but peaceful

The both of you just getting work done

“You’re really going to let me off without detention?” you asked him again pushing it a bit

“I’ll let you go this one time.” he chuckled not looking up from his paper

“That’s a relief, I’ll work in the common room from now on promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it y/n.”

And you both could have returned to the common room then

and you probably would have

but the two of you were just so tired

and had not been sleeping well because of upcoming exams

of course you should have returned to the dormitory when Seungcheol found you

But uhhh

No

That’s not exactly what happened

You fell asleep

The both of you did

Next to each other

Heads on the desk

really close, inches apart really

Arms grazing each others and the shuffling of the papers as your heads laid on top of the books

And when you woke up……

Seungcheol was still sleeping next to you

You might or might not have jumped fifty feet in the air while biting your lips to stop screaming

As you gathered your stuff and looked at the time

Breakfast

you couldn't be late!!!! and neither could a prefect

but you felt weird

do you wake him up?!?!?!

“Seungcheol!!! Get up classes start soon!!!!!”

And the rest of that day was hella awkward

With Seungcheol and you catching each other’s eyes every three minutes or so

And blushing

And looking away immediately

him sort of having his eyes widen in a really cute way

With Jeonghan and Joshua eyeing the two of you suspiciously

and you just turning away and talking to a friend

or inserting yourself into a convo to avoid staring at Seungcheol

and banging your head on the table when his sleeping face came up in your thoughts

get a grip you yell at yourself

And from that little

Ahem "study session"

Fate made it really easy for yours and Seungcheol’s paths to cross

You’d be sitting with a friend from ravenclaw and Wonwoo shows up out of nowhere with Seungcheol and Jun behind him

And before you know what you’re doing, you’re running down the hall and out the door to avoid him

EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE SCREAMING IN YOUR HEAD NOTHING HAPPENED SO WHY AM I AVOIDING HIM

And it’s not like he cared right?

or you'd be sitting outside doing hw

and he'd walk past with a couple of his friends

and you'd hide your face behind a book to avoid staring at him

and then you wouldn't see the little smile he had on his face as he looked back at you hiding

and the small chuckle he'd have

"What's funny hyung?"

"Nothing just,,, thought I saw someone"

or he'd sit by you in the library

and you'd have to control the urge to get up and just run away

and he'd just smile and stare dead ahead not meeting your eyes

and the both of you would wave to each other and then continue studying

Well anyway

You go up to the astronomy tower one evening

Because you needed a break from the cramped common room where everyone was studying for end of december exams

and low key trying to avoid Seungcheol too

it was weird

you couldn't help staring at him

the way his hair would lightly brush across his forehead

and the way he'd smile at you

GOSH DARN IT FOCUS Y/N

And you sat at the edge of the balcony and just laid your forehead against the cold railing

And took a deep breath

Exams were coming up

And you weren’t ready

But for now you wanted to forget the stress and just stare out at the sky

the sky was beautiful

the glow of the sunlight slowly giving way to the stars' glowing

And as you were slowly drifting into sleep

You hear a quiet voice

Someone was singing

And you peeped open an eye right in time

to see Seungcheol walking up the stairs

So naturally you do the one thing that all your years of being socially competent has taught you

And hid behind a telescope

Because reasons

And Seungcehol walked past you still quietly singing and sat down with a book and his paper

He looked tired

But he worked on his homework

And you sat admiring his voice

it was so nice and soothing

But uhhh you can’t just sit there forever right?

So you quietly clear your throat

Which makes Seungcheol jump like five feet in the air and instinctively yell

“PROFESSOR I SWEAR I ONLY CAME HERE TO AVOID WHATEVER IT IS JIHOON IS PLOTTING TO DO TO MINGYU RIGHT NOW.”

When he notices it’s just you and he sighs in relief

“Hey y/n”

And you awkwardly stand there like what

But he looks really tired

Like this is not ok

And you watch as he sort of falls

And you catch his head right as he falls asleep in your arms

DON'T PANIC

You sort of half drag him down the tower to the infirmary

“I HAVE A PERSON HERE”

And the nurse just stares at you like fam I don't endorse killing people

But she helps Serungcheol into a bed and tells you he’s just tired and needs sleep

But you’re hella worried and you find Joshua and Jeonghan

And drag them to the infirmary

And you kind of just motion like WHAT DO I DO

And they just shake their heads

“He does this once every year around exam time, he's just tired, he’ll be ok”

Them trying to reassure you even though of course they’re worried too

but they also have been plotting things

But you stay by his bed with Joshua and Jeonghan just staring at you before leaving to get Seungcheol's pajamas and stuff for him to stay overnight in the infirmary

And you fall asleep again

Next to Seungcheol

And you don’t wake up until you hear him say

“Here we are sleeping together again”

And you look up to see him smiling and looking well-rested and HEYO NO DARK CIRCLES

“CHOI SEUNGCHEOL I WAS WORRIED OUT OF MY MIND!” you scream

ligtly smacking his arm bc he worried you

But you smile bc gosh darn it he’s ok!!!!

And as you’re about to scold him again

He hugs you

Without any warning

And you freeze up blushing

Until you just sort of hug him back

and it's just you in his arms for a few seconds

“Thanks for taking me to the infirmary.” he laughs

“UH yea no problem, you would have done the same for me, bud.”

Did you just call Seungcheol bud

What

Was

Wrong

With

You

He laughed and let go

“You’re cute y/n.”

You looked up in surprise at his comment

“Hmmm?”

Seungcheol blushed and scratched the back of his head

“I dunno you just are.”

“Super specific thanks, Cheol.” you giggle

“Heh, idk just you sleeping in classes and still trying to work your butt off for exams, it’s cute.” he smiled at you

Your heart raced a bit faster

“You’re cute too.”

LMAO YOU NEED A SPELL TO STOP YOURSELF FROM SAYING EMBARRASSING THINGS

But Seungcheol just gave you a wide grin

“Do you wanna get a butterbeer or something?” he laughed blushing

“We don’t have time… but I’d love to get a pumpkin juice or something and study for that charms exam if you want to hang out…” you said blushing right back

“Sounds perfect.”

And you both talked together more and hung out a lot more too

And as you got to know him more

And as he got to know you more

The both of you started liking each other more

It was really cute and innocent and just everything

A lot of light flirting

A wink or blowing kisses lol

But even Joshua was low key impatient

“Just ask her to be your gf if you guys are a thing”

“Shua what the heck”

Jeonghan butting in

“JUST TELL HER TO BE YOUR LADY SO I CAN STOP CLAWING MY EYES OUT EVERY TIME YOU WAVE AT HER”

“DIDN’T I TECHNICALLY ALREADY ASK HER OUT?”

“NO CHEOL NOT EXACTLY.”

And so they pushed him to get you flowers

And then it was official official

No more of this flirty and playful nonsense

Instead it was full on holding hands

And sometimes he’d give you a piggy-back ride across the school grounds

Just cuz

everyone is like finally our dad has someone

even if you aren't ready to mom twelve other kids LOL

Jeonghan low key trying to sit between you and Seungcheol just so he can tease him

and Joshua just dying at the cuteness of you two

WHICH IS DESERVED BC HIM AND HIS GF ARE TOO DAMN CUTE TOO

and the two of you always are studying together

or eating meals together

or sitting together during classes

those prefect powers sometimes has perks

all the kids begging you to convince Seungcheol to turn the other way and not give them detention

but he doesn't budge an inch

"I could still give you detention for being out past curfew that night a long time ago, are you really asking me to lift the punishment of others?"

"AHh that's not fair!"

"It's not fair they're tring to use my girlfriend against me."

"Got me there, Cheol"

and just everyone thinks the two of you act like an old married couple

bickering together

but also eating the same meals

And when the two of you would fall asleep on the couch together in the common room after a late night study

No one could ever say anything

Bc too cute

Plus it wouldn't be the first time the two of you fell asleep together

The Seventeen Hogwarts AU Series: 

| S.coups | Jeonghan | Joshua | Jun | Hoshi | Wonwoo | Woozi | DK | Mingyu | Minghao | Seungkwan | Vernon | Dino |

MASTERLIST

#ask seventeen #ask svt #ask svt hearteu #requested #Hogwarts au #Hogwarts svt au #Seventeen #svt #svt17 #17 #pledis 17 #kpop scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #scoups #s.coups #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #kpop #kpop idols #kpop imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #harry potter au #hogwarts #gryfindor seungcheol #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #svt hogwarts #Hogwarts imagine

[ibblescribbles-archive]

Aye bby gurl! It me! I was just wondering how you draw feet/shoes?? I can never seem to get it right so i just cut them off xD

oh geez okay, im even worse at feet than i am at hands but i’ll give it my best shot!! usual disclaimer: this was again an impulse study at like 3 am and i’m basically just compiling things ive picked up from studyingfeet are another one of those super expressive body parts! you can convey a lot of emotions with them which is why they’re so hard to draw. they’re super flexible and generally weird but they’re important in drawing a full body! you never want to cut someone off at the ankles for compositions sake: it looks awkward and its an unnatural place to end the body. I could go into a whole spiel about how to frame things and properly cut off things for a good composition but let’s just jump straight into feet:

wooh feet studies! i didnt refine them this time around for times sake but these are all rough observations! i mentioned this in my hand study post but when drawing you should always try to break more complex things into simpler shapes. I find triangles work particularly well for quick gesture drawings, but circles and flat ovals work really well for feet! Feet also tend to have less of that soft fleshy stuff that’s in a human palm and instead they’re made up of a ton of flat planes and subtle slopes. I think capturing those two key details will help in making a foot look like a foot.

So shapes! From the side it’s easier to build the foot off of circles! I did forget to draw a circle next to the toes which would represent the ball of the foot 1but I think you get the gist! The heel is kind of squished under the ankle bone and you want to consider that the heel is flat on the bottom. Always accommodate the ankle joint and pay attention to how the skin moves around it! It’s the whole reason a foot is able to rotate in such expressive ways and often times exaggerating it can help make a foot more bony or interesting. Toes can kind of be grouped into the big toe and the rest of the little ones but we’ll get back to that later.Also, depending on how the foot is bent, skin will bunch up! So here its folded most at the back of the heel and in the middle of the arch (remember that feet arch, they aren’t fully flat on the ground) while its more tightly stretched over the front of the foot which allows the bone structure to show through.

Here you can see the planes of the bottom of the foot better, like the flat plane of the heel! The severity of these planes and how well defined they are can vary depending on age of character and other factors, but generally for an adult or someone who is well traveled, areas like the heel and the ball of the foot (area of flesh between the toes and arch of the foot) will be harder and flatter! You can also see how, similarly to the fleshy portions of a palm, the ball of the foot is separated into two larger portions! If it helps, try tensing your foot and look at how a crease appears between these two areas. (In the diagram I didn’t divide them too well, the actual areas are pretty much between the big toe and the rest of the toes.) Note that the ankle is still defined even though we’re seeing the foot from the bottom.Drawing feet from head on can be a bit challenging. It might help to show a hint of the heel to still give it that general “foot” silhouette. Also, going back to toes, unlike with fingers I’ve noticed the pinkie toe tends to curve in towards the foot. I think something a lot of people have trouble with is fitting all 5 toes into the foot naturally because they try to draw them all straight and perfect like fingers. They’re not nearly as spaced out and are often pressed up right next to each other. The exception to this is the big toe! It might be helpful to exaggerate the space between it and the other toes on occasion since its more flexible than the other toes. (Most people can move their big toe much more easily than their other individual toes… probably, im speaking from experience only LOL)

okay im gonna go ahead and put shoes under the cut so this post doesnt get miles long:

so, now that we’ve covered feet, shoes should be easier to think about! I actually really enjoy drawing shoes and I think they’re excellent subject for blind contours! They’re super detailed which means there’s alot to observe, but even just drawing them stylized can be fun. something to remember is that shoes are made to accommodate feet but they’re not going to follow the exact shape of a foot. This is because there’s a sole inside that already helps the foot fit comfortably inside and the rest of the shoe is a structure is built around that (im mostly referring to bulky sneakers which are my favorite type of shoe to draw. different shoes will vary, ie ballet flats are going to take on the shape of a foot much more while say traditional japanese sandals are very blocky and flat)

these are just some quick examples showing how shoes accommodate the arch without following it completely and how the slopes of the foot arent as defined in a sneaker.

okay, i was getting tired at this point so i stopped observING slkjfdk but basically here shoes can be broken down into basic parts too! and this is applicable to sneakers, platform shoes, dress shoes and heels to an extent! Basically anything that’s not like a flip flop or something.(Also side note but I personally really love when artists exaggerate the heel of a sneaker to stick out, it just really gives it that aesthetic chunky look)

A shoe is made up of the tongue which is, you know, the piece of fabric under the laces that you always have to pull out after tying your shoes! Its typically overlapped slightly by the sides of the shoes which.. take on a particular shape that I cant quite describe but I hope you can see how I outlined it in the drawing! If you’ve ever seen a shoe pattern laid out flat you’ll know what I’m talking about. Next we’ve got the tip/front of the shoe which is literally just like a flat oval. It’s there to cover the toes but it doesnt take on the shape of them, like i mentioned earlier. To represent this it helps to draw a line separating where the toes and rest of the foot meet. Shoes like Converse have a really obvious tip like this but shoes like Nike are more subtle and not as rounded at the top. Finally we have the sole of the shoe and the heel. The sole is relatively flat typically, though it tends to curve up at the toes and it goes slightly inward at the arch. The heel is pretty self explanatory!

aaa that got really long but I hope that helped at least a little bit! I’m pretty amateur at stuff like this but i think i covered anything that i know about currently, though it may have been a little incoherent rip

here’s the link to my hand post if you’re interested

#thatcatissatan #askibble #ibbletips #long post #feet tutorial #yawns its legit 4:33 am u guys im drafting this to post at a better time tomorrow but im dying im so tired #this was totally an impulse thing i def didnt have to type this out tonight oH WeLL #hope i was helpful im happy to give art advice i just hope you guys dont mind me throwing up all these random observations and things i #picked up from art school LOL

[allenmendezsr]

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Latest FAA Flight Instructor Knowledge Test Questions, Figures & Answers

Latest FAA Flight Instructor Practical Test Standards

Aviation Instructor’s Handbook (FAA-H-8083-9A)

Stall and Spin Awareness Training (AC 61-67B)

Also Includes:

Latest FAA Knowledge Test Guides for the Recreational Pilot, Airline Transport Pilot, Flight Engineer

Latest FAA Knowledge Test Questions for the Light Sport Pilot, Powered Parachute, Sport Pilot Instructor, ATP, and Flight Engineer

The Latest FAA Practical Test Standards for Private, Commercial, Instrument, ATP, CFI, CFII, Flight Engineer

and dozens of other FAA flight training publications!

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Use of AIP and frequency selection

Microphone technique

Phonetic alphabet

Station/aeroplane/callsigns abbreviations

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Aeronautical Decision Making

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Module:

Value:

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$297

Flight Training Manual & Pilot’s Handbook $97 26,000 Q&As, Study Guides, Test Prep and Cheat Sheets For Private Pilots, Instructors, Instrument Rating, Commerical Pilots & More $127

Bonus 1: Radio Telephony Course

$79

Bonus 2: Seaplane, Gilder, Balloon Handbooks

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Bonus 3: Pilot’s Aeronautical Handbook $24

Grand Total Value:

$673!

But to be honest, I don’t think that retail value is actually the value you’ll get out of this. It’s tough to put a price on it, because I know the truth…

Having struggled myself, I can tell you this very well could be the door to your brand new, astoundingly life as a certified pilot.

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It doesn’t get easier than that. I’m not claiming this is “push-button” easy, or that you’re going to be a certified pilot tomorrow. But I AM saying it’s silly easy to get started, and attaining your license is MUCH easier than you might think. Here’s the bottom line: If you have read this far, you only have one question left…

But Bruce, How Much Does This Cost?

Well, what would it be worth to you to get started on the road to your dreams? Truthfully you’d pay hundreds if not thousands of dollars anywhere else for this information.

You should already know that ATP flight schools charge at least $39K (39 thousand!) for flight lessons and groundschool classes. It is *sheer lunacy* to be paying that kind of money!

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Kings School – “Get-It-All” Private Pilot DVD Kit – $597

Gleim Private Pilot Kit With Online Groundschool – $249.95

Jeppesen GFD Private Pilot Kit – $311.95

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That’s another reason why I’m offering this discounted price. I’m looking to mentor new students. In fact, after the discount period ends, I’ll likely raise the price to $697 or even higher.

Let Your Dreams Take Flight…

I’ve been at this since the summer of 1997 helping aspiring pilots obtain their license. I’ve been a certified trainer for over 10 years and I know a thing or two.

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Simply click the button below to be taken to our secure servers anytime of day or night. Take action now before the offer runs out:

I’m ready and eager to start downloading CompletePilot course. By taking action today, I understand that:

You will grant me instant access. Once my enrollment is successfully processed, you will give me immediate access to ALL your CompletePilot™ training modules, including groundschool courses, plus a total of over 350+ digital pages of illustrated flight manuals, handbooks, study guides and 3000 pages of JAA/FAA exam cheat sheets.

I’ll ALSO understand that I will be entitled to the bonuses if I order right now. The 3 bonus I’ll be getting are the Radio Telephony course and the Seaplane, Gilder, Pilot Aeronautical Manual & Balloon Flying Handbooks which retails for a total of over $250.00

By taking quick action today, I only pay a low investment of just $37. There are no renewals, no recurring fees, no other charges. So I don’t have to worry about my membership ever running out. I’m in for life! 

In addition, I understand that I will forfeit this introductory price and the bonuses if I do not purchase it now.

Plus there’s absolutely zero-risk to me because this is backed by a full 60 days 100% money-back guarantee

On that basis, let me order now before it’s too late-

Regular Price: $197 Today: $37

Your order is protected by 128-bit SSL encryption.  [ Add To Cart ] (I reserve the right to remove this discount at anytime without warning.)

See you in the skies, Bruce ‘Flybook’ Hogan, Certified Flight Instructor, Educator, Flying Enthusiast

P.S:

I will be selling all the videos, modules, training aids and course materials independently in the future for $47-$97 EACH in the weeks and months ahead (I have a whole lot of them). Lock yourself in for a deep discount now!

P.S. Remember…you have my 100% Risk Free Unconditional Money-Back Guarantee. I am 110% sure you will be happier than a 5 year old on Christmas morning with your package. But if for any reason you are not, no worries. Your investment is guaranteed for a full 60 days.

PPPS: This is a TIME-SENSITIVE OFFER! You will never have the opportunity to invest in this package again at this price. Please do NOT click off this page unless you are positively certain you want to pass up on this offer forever. Give me the Complete Private Pilot Training Package right now »

” Worth Every Cent. Best Course I’ve Ever Seen. “

“ The Complete Private Pilot training course is fantastic. The Private Pilot Ground School manuals are packed with useful and important information, like several of the FAA publications put together but more graphic intensive and a bit easier to read.

Each section ends with a summary and a list of key terms, as well as questions to help you burn the knowledge better into your mind.

A fantastic product, definitely one that every pilot or aspiring pilot should own. It is a “steal” at the price Bruce is offering!

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By now, you have a good idea what CompletePrivate Course is all about. You’ve read the testimonials of people who rave about the product and you know that you have no risk when you purchase, all the risk is on me.

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[rassilon-imprimatur]

‘The School of Doom,’ by Lance Parkin

(Originally published in Myth Makers # 12, “The School of Doom” is set within the time intermission in Parkin’s Father Time, and stars the amnesiac Eighth Doctor and his adopted daughter (and biological daughter from the future) Miranda. Besides being a lot of fun and a dive into one of my favorite corners of Dr. Who ever, the story also adds yet another layer of mystery and excitement to the Four Elementals of the Post-War universe. A big thank you Richard Salter, former Myth Makers editor, for sharing this story with me! Please enjoy!) 

It was a foreboding place, a vast complex behind an unclimbable metal fence.

There was only one entrance, a vast wrought iron set of gates. The gates gaped open, like the black toothed mouth of some terrible creature. Its throat was a long tarmac drive, leading to the heart, a collection of ugly, squared-off, brick buildings. To add to the effect, the September sky was grey, oppressive.

The Doctor was smiling at his daughter, Miranda. ‘You look nervous.’

‘Of course I’m not,’ she replied.

‘Just remember those exercises I taught you to bring your adrenaline and breathing under control.’

‘I don’t need them, I’m not nervous.’

The Doctor nodded.

‘Were you nervous on your first day at big school?’ she asked.

The Doctor couldn’t look at her. ‘Probably,’ he said at last. ‘Don’t worry, though – everyone’s in the same boat.’ Miranda looked around. There was a steady stream of children her age. There was a range of emotions on display – but there was a common theme. There was straightforward nervousness, shyness, a couple were laughing, but that looked like a display of bravado. But the Doctor was right – everyone was a little scared.

She got out the car and set out to follow them down the drive. At the end of the long walk, by the entrance to the largest building, there was a teacher – or at least someone in a dark suit who she took to be a teacher – greeting everyone in turn and handing them a sheet of paper.

As she got nearer, Miranda got a good look at him. He was of average height, and looked very smart in his black suit and pressed shirt. He had neat black hair, greying at the temples and a small, pointed beard. But that wasn’t what Miranda concentrated on – she was struck by his eyes. They were black, but they burned into her, like he could read her mind. Like black lasers.

He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. ‘Hello, Miranda, my dear. I am the Headmaster.’

The Doctor watched his daughter walk down the school drive, saw her pass into the main building. But there was something wrong. As ever, he couldn’t tell precisely what was out of place, but there was something in that building that needed his attention.

He slipped out of the car, forgetting in his haste to close the door properly.

The assembly hall wasn’t quite large enough to hold every pupil in the school, but there must have been five or six hundred people here. About a third of those would be first years, like Miranda – and they were easy enough to spot, because they needed to be told where to sit. It had already taken five or six minutes for everyone to find their seat. Miranda was sitting down, looking around the hall. There were old photographs and even paintings – previous headmasters, old sports teams, a couple of the ex-pupils who had gone on to bigger and better things. All the pictures were hung up really high, leaving the impression that the mundane world of the school was slightly beneath them, now. The people in the pictures certainly looked serene compared with the bustle on the assembly room’s floor.

A group of teachers were watching the pupils struggling to find their place. They sat together on a raised stage at the front of the hall. Behind them, and above them, in an old, carved chair that looked like it had been salvaged from a church, was the headmaster. He looked down on proceedings with what seemed like Olympian detachment.

He was looking at her. And once he realised she’d seen him, he didn’t look away, not for a moment or two.

The Doctor used the sonic suitcase to open the door to the Headmaster’s office. Everyone was in main assembly, and he’d hear them come out of there, so he knew he had a few minutes at least.

There was a small reception area – a big oak desk for the Headmaster’s secretary. A place for naughty boys and girls or parents to wait until they were called into the office itself.

The office lay beyond a thick wooden door. The Doctor tried the handle, but the door was locked. The sonic suitcase wouldn’t open it, either, which was unusual, but not unprecedented.

The Doctor knelt down and tried to peek through the keyhole. There was nothing behind there. It wasn’t that the keyhole was blocked up. There was literally nothing beyond the door.

The Doctor stood up, and wondered what to do next.

On the whole, British schools, even the very best-equipped, shouldn’t have interstitial space-time voids. As the Doctor understood it, such things couldn’t exist in nature.

‘Obedience,’ the Headmaster said. ‘Obedience is the key to this school’s success. You children are among the finest minds in the land. You are the future leaders, academics and captains of industry. You are all very gifted, or you wouldn’t be here. But always remember that those gifts mustn’t be squandered, they must be harnessed. You must learn that there are rules, and that there are rules for a reason, however strange and arbitrary they might sometimes seem. But for the brightest students, those that apply themselves, those who show excellence in whatever field, there will be rewards beyond measure.’

Miranda was listening, honestly she was, but not as intently as some of the other children seemed to be. She only perked up when the Headmaster stopped speaking, and the other children and teachers applauded his little speech.

From there, it was simple enough. Everyone’s name was called out in turn, and they were told which class they would be in. As Miranda’s surname began with a W, she would have to wait for ages to find out where she was going.

The Doctor had managed to get the door open. Beyond it was solid darkness. A wall of black, but a wall with no substance to it.

Instinctively, the Doctor reached in.

His hand vanished into the void, but – to his relief - he could still feel it. It was cold, but there was something there, just on the edge of his perception. It just wasn’t in front of him. He raised his hand, but it didn’t move up, or left or right, or down. He swished his hand around.

It was almost as though his hand was moving forwards or backwards in time. Almost. This was difficult to explain. Not up. Not down… not in any of the three dimensions. Or the fourth.

The Doctor turned his hand again, marvelling as it moved along an entirely new axis. It was like discovering an entirely new colour, then trying to describe it. It wasn’t turning… or pitching or yawing. He’d have to come up with a new word.

He realised he was grinning.

A moment later, before he could stop himself, he’d leapt straight through the door, and gyred into the fifth dimension.

‘You’re only supposed to put a tick by the ones you’re interested in,’ Miss Hargrave told Miranda. ‘You’ve ticked almost all of them.’

‘I’m interested in all of the ones I ticked,’ Miranda insisted.

‘Everyone puts swimming and chess,’ Miss Hargrave said. ‘Hands up the people that did.’

Most hands went up.

‘I’m sorry, Miss, but I was on the swimming and chess teams at primary school.’

‘I see. You’ve not put down for any languages. Or the science club.’

‘No. I think I’d probably be a bit too advanced for them.’ ‘You think you’d be wasting your time in my French class?’

‘I’m already fluent,’ Miranda said.

‘Are you?’

‘Not just in French.’

Miranda looked around. Some of the other pupils were laughing a little nervously.

‘I mean… I’m not sure I’ll learn something.’

The Doctor was disappointed to find himself in a perfectly ordinary Headmaster’s Office, or at least something doing a very good impression of one.

A large oil painting of the current Headmaster in academic robes glowered down at him as he began a quick search of the room. There was a grandfather clock in one corner… but there was something odd about it. Something wrong with the way it had been made – it didn’t look quite finished.

Opening the desk he found a glowing sphere, the size of a cricket ball. Space twisted around it.

‘A dimensional stabiliser,’ the Doctor heard himself saying. It was responsible for moving the office into the fifth dimension. No-one native to Earth could possibly enter the room while it was active.

He picked it up, found it responding to his thoughts. He could hear it talking to him. Yapping, like a loyal dog.

The Doctor asked it to go into standby mode, then slipped it into his pocket.

He quickly found a set of official school notebooks, like registers. But they were full of mathematics symbols, what looked like Greek writing, and a number of very interesting drawings. One looked remarkably like a scale diagram of a black hole. Another was a spiral, like a five dimensional whirlpool.

The Doctor scowled – he knew he should be able to read this, but he couldn’t. If it had been Greek, it wouldn’t be a problem. And he wasn’t sure he could ever decipher it – very few of the symbols were repeated. If it was an alphabet, it was a huge one.

‘It’s called the omegabet,’ a voice told him. ‘It has a million letters…’

‘…but only five vowels,’ the Doctor completed.

‘So you do remember?’

The Doctor frowned. ‘No…’

Then he turned. The Headmaster was there, covering him with what looked for all the world like a laser pistol. ‘

I knew you’d track me down, my dear Doctor. But you’re in the same boat, aren’t you?’

‘Boat?’

‘Where are you from, Doctor?’

‘I don’t know,’ the Doctor admitted.

‘Not this planet, though?’

‘No…’

‘Neither am I. We’re from the same place. Something’s happened to time. Something’s happened to… to…’ The headmaster squeezed his eyes together, tried to concentrate. ‘Wherever we came from, it’s gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘It never existed. That’s my theory.’

‘Of course it existed. Otherwise, how could we exist?’ ‘It’s paradoxical, it’s mindbending and upsetting. But… it’s exciting. Liberating. Full of potential. We can push things further, how far only depends on us.’

The Doctor looked at this strange man. He wasn’t a tall man, but there was something about him – his bearing, those eyes. He was a born leader.

‘And where do you want to “push things”?’ the Doctor asked, already suspecting what the answer would be.

‘If we don’t take control, someone else will,’ the headmaster insisted. ‘This is a perfect opportunity.’

Miranda and Miss Hargrave had been arguing with each other in French for five minutes, now. The rest of the class were utterly bored. Miranda told Miss Hargrave as much.

‘You will study French!’ Miss Hargrave told her, in French. ‘You will learn!’

‘I don’t want to!’ Miranda replied, fluently. ‘I don’t need to.’

‘You are a disruptive element. You must bow to our will!’ Miranda felt a little startled by that. ‘Pardon?’ she said. The others in the class weren’t following this at all.

Miss Hargrave’s eyes were like… they were like black lasers. They bored into Miranda, who felt her mind slipping away. It was weird, like being really tired. But a moment ago, she’d been…

The Doctor was edging back towards the door.

‘We can’t do this alone. We have to recruit other… other people like us. We’d also need to root ourselves into this reality. I don’t know how yet, but we don’t have long. I don’t think there are many of us left. It’s why you’re special. It’s why your daughter is so special.’

‘Miranda’s adopted, she’s -’

‘I know who Miranda is, Doctor. I know the truth. There’s no need to hide it from me. I know.’

The Doctor tapped his lip. Until the Headmaster had mentioned Miranda this had been a game. But he was threatening her, now.

‘And you’d be our leader?’

‘We would have a universe, Doctor. A whole universe. The whole of space and time. Even I don’t think I could rule all that alone. We’d need an army, and what better place to raise an army than here on Earth?’

‘Then we’d divide up the universe between the three of us?’

‘Four. There’s another.’

‘Another time traveller?’

‘Someone else like us.’

‘But you said yourself that you don’t know what we are.’ ‘Precisely. But I know what I am not. I’m not a slave, not a servant, not a subject. I was born to rule, as were you. It’s our birthright, Doctor.’

‘…birthright, Miranda.’

She couldn’t make out the words. Not properly.

‘Genetic destiny… can’t fight it…. it’s our duty….’

Miranda was aware she’d slumped. Fainted. She could feel the cold parquet floor against her cheek. Her eyes were open, but they were sightless.

She tried to concentrate.

A year ago, she’d gone on holiday with the Doctor and Debbie. The Doctor had just adopted her, after a legal battle she didn’t fully understand. They’d gone to the sea to celebrate. Australia. Wasn’t it?

White sand. Blue sea. She’d been swimming, showing off. She’d got out of her depth.

Then the wave had come. It had been vast, and caught her out. She’d not had time to breathe, not even to close her eyes. Suddenly the world was blue, the whole world was blue and she was being swept along.

She tried to swim, but none of the rules of swimming seemed to apply. Nothing she did made any difference. And a moment later, the wave had passed over her, and she was alive. A little humbled, and very keen to get back to the beach and her father and his companion. But also, for a moment, she was invincible.

She could see again. Miss Hargrave was right in front of her face, staring down at her, trying to control her, trying to destroy her.

‘Not even the ocean could drown me,’ Miranda told her.

The Headmaster faltered, distracted.

‘No! You will obey me!’

The Doctor took his chance, and a step forward. He batted the gun from the Headmaster’s hand, catching it, slipping it in his pocket in one movement.

‘No!’ the Headmaster said again, lunging forward, grabbing for the Doctor’s coat.

They wrestled for a moment, but the Headmaster was surprisingly strong, and pushed both hands into the Doctor’s coat pocket. A moment later, he had his hand round something. He took what he thought was the pistol out.

It was the dimensional stabiliser.

The Headmaster stood there, aware how foolish he looked, pointing the thing at the Doctor as if it was a gun.

The Doctor asked the dimensional stabiliser very nicely to take the Headmaster away from here, and to make sure he never came back.

And, like a loyal dog, the sphere did just that.

The Doctor looked up at the clock. Twenty to four. Time flies, he thought. Probably a side effect of all that dimension-bending. He was meant to be picking up Miranda in five minutes!

‘How was your first day at school?’ the Doctor asked nonchalantly, five minutes later, opening the car door for his daughter.

‘Oh… fairly uneventful,’ Miranda told him. ‘My French teacher and I hit it off on the wrong note, but by the end of the lesson she was almost a different person. What have you been doing with yourself?’

‘I met an old school friend,’ the Doctor said.

‘Oh. Right. Will you be meeting him again?’

The Doctor smiled. ‘I doubt I’ve seen the last of him.

#Eighth Doctor #Lance Parkin #Eighth Doctor Adventures #Miranda Dawkins #Father Time #The Master #Doctor Who #long post #The Book of the Ceasefires

[heytheredevlopr-blog]

10+ Best Reasons to Get Excited for Samsung Galaxy Fold 2

Samsung's second galaxy fold is now literally on the horizon and is looking so good that it might just be a day one switch from me here at the top six reasons why still as 2 things that have ME pretty upset the initial.

Galaxy fold what I've been using for a month now is a book a fern that folds out horizontally to make one large tablet displays the fold too is looking like it's gonna be a clamshell a fern that starts smaller and falls out vertically to make a normal-sized phone and that's a really good thing it'll mean a device that's way less large however additional significantly one that solves the ratio drawback see with the book type issue if you've 2 halves that area unit quite tall folding them outwards is gonna result is basically a square and a square is just not good for 90% of content movies games and most phone apps are designed to work on rectangular displays with a clamshell tho' as we have seen with the new Motorola Razr you'll be able to have a tiny low square screen on the front and that is fine as a result of the main screen on the within are tall a touch taller than we're wont to however that is much better than being too wide robot Authority. Recently did a poll on individuals's favorite folding and therefore the Motorola RAZR got regarding doubly as several votes because the Galaxy fold people just like the clamshell style of the razor and even off that group of people who picked the Galaxy to fold some of them only did so just because it's a better SPECT phone if you think about it the Galaxy fold too should have the best of both worlds the clamshell design of the razor and quite possibly even better specs than the original fold also this is a refined purpose however i feel the clamshell are some things that encompasses a higher likelihood of initiating sales-wise as a result of individuals area unit or deeds subconsciously aware of the concept 15 years ago nobody would have even questioned what the purpose of a flip phone was it was accepted and so if Samsung can come in with the flip phone reinvented i feel it's a neater sell then welcome to the book for reading then we have got one UI to Samsung's really named however fantastically redesigned little bit of code which is gonna help all of their phones but in particular this foldable you've got standard all-round improvements like less intrusive notifications and even smarter dock mode that works across more applications and simply typically additional customization however a giant focus here has been reaching ability if we have a tendency to area unit about to see this super tall show on the within of the next fold this update could not have come back at a more robust time.

It'll all of these UI components your fingers really want to act with nearer to the lowest to cut back the quantity of reaching you wish to try to you would possibly already know this galaxy fold uses a plastic show in spite of everything once glass gets super skinny it loses a great deal of its structural strength and simply typically as a cloth glass is not very bent friendly but it looks like.

Samsung has found how a neighborhood glass provider referred to as dawn sees I feel has opposed idli developed thereforelution|an answer} that's ultra-slim sturdy and versatile so this might be BIC one of the primaries criticisms of the first fold is its display it scratches easily and it's got this massive crease going down the middle now I never personally thought it had been a deal-breaker I got accustomed the crease pretty quickly however whenever I share this phone to some other person

it's one among the primary things they suggests in order that reasonably speaks for itself anyway this glass answer may solve each scratching and creasing issues promptly a lot of those reports i have been reading square measure inform towards the show size on fault to being six-point seven inches that is nice in my expertise with current phone thickness and edge size this can be concerning as huge as you'll be able to go whereas still being usable however I may see why this can be not a profit to everybody you may argue that there's one thing special concerning having the ability to hold around a seven-plus in. show therein smaller kind issue it's going to in all probability even be a hole-punch screen, not a full uninterrupted panel and this can avoid wasting thickness versus having to use a motorized pop-up for the front camera however speaking of cameras the particular camera Hardware on these Samsung flagships it hasn't had a significant push since the galaxy s7 one thing has reasonably favored style enhancements over camera upgrades that is getting ready to amendment in 2020 consistent with code found within the Samsung camera app they are already performing on a firm which will shoot not simply 8k video the 108 megapixel photos and this might line up dead with past leaks but also the fact that Samsung has actually launched a 108 megapixel sensor it's already a very real thing assuming then that the next the fold will still be positioned as a high-end device as a decent likelihood it's about to take pleasure in this - conjointly if you simply count the number of cameras on the initial fold you get 6 for 6 cameras and at any one time you're only ever using a maximum of three you've got one selfie camera for when you're using the front screen - selfie cameras for once you are victimization the most screen and 3 cameras at the rear it's simply a small amount inefficient they've effectively engineered constant camera system twice just so you can take selfies in both folded and unfolded positions which increase cost and thickness if they can find a way on this new fold to have just one camera. The system that you can use to take selfies while the phone is folded and then rear photos well unfolded that would be game-changing it would mean they could pour their entire resource pool into only one set of cameras rather than scattering their resources over 3 sets which you'll be able to take not simply mind-blowing rear shots however also selfies with constant quality and speaking of quality.

I'm extremely attempting to up the sport on YouTube thus if you may subscribe that will be wonderful currently it's wanting just like the second Galaxy fold isn't reaching to be a traditional successor and in fact instead of going up in price something is supposedly coming down if I had to guess I'd say around $1500 compared to 2,000 for this one there have been a full range of reports concerning this recently however the one factor I did notice that backs it up is that the proven fact that the code name of the second fold was leaked as being SMF 700 which if true suggests it would fit below the existing SMF 900 fold because this is such a new category of devices Samsung may be still figuring out where the fold fits in its lineup I can say one thing for sure at $2,000 there is no way the original fold was shipping at high volume numbers and so considering the incredible amount of R&D that would have gone into making this thing there's a good chance at the company's current foldable ventures of running at a loss, of course, it alone takes one hit product to turn all that around and The Fault too could very well be the one and what makes me especially hopeful is that Samsung has been in this situation before their original Galaxy S was seen by many people is just a cheap iPhone different however the Galaxy s2 that came next cemented its place as a real rival Samsung's initial incurvate phone the Galaxy spherical was an entire flop however it sealed the means for his or her future incurvate endeavors that while not universally wanted are a giant hit the corporate has quite developed a name for bouncing back okay two things i'm disturbed concerning and i am not talking concerning things sort of a lack of a earpiece jack or lack of water the resistance i believe these things are pretty major first of all as I mentioned very likely Samsung will make the fall to a cheaper phone but it still needs to have the absolute best specifications it's got to have the most recent chipset it's got to possess lots of RAM we tend to already expect these items from traditional flagships so what i am expression that this versatile kind issue can't come at the cost of performance now the the reason I am particularly worried about this is because Motorola thinks that it can they've discharged a firm that appears heaps like what Samsung has planned however they've opted for a few underwhelming hardware it's flower 710 chip 128 gigabytes of non expandable storage any 5-megapixel selfie camera the second thing is battery there's going to be a massive the trade-off here because I have no doubt that if this thing does eventually come out the manner, one thing goes to promote it one amongst the most commerce points goes to be that you simply will fold it up and it will be pocket-sized and so supported this and also the proven fact that Samsung incorporates a little bit of a name for giving merely enough battery there is a probability they will do constant here and give it merely enough battery so at the purpose of shopping for it once it's latest it's going to last a full day then again six months of serious use down one line you'll probably be reaching for the charger at 6 p.m. whilst I welcome a cheaper phone I think the for two needs to be in everything phone with pro users in mind, not a sleek-looking mid-range phone with a cool foldable gimmick function over form to put another way I would also add to this as a third minor concern that there is a the rumor that Samsung's also gonna put an S Pen inside of this thing and I don't think this is a particularly smart move the way I look at it is this you could see some customers as a Venn the diagram you've got people who want an S Pen in one circle and people who want a foldable in another circle and already both of these circles are fairly small these are niche ones but if something makes one flexible phone and this also is an S Pen focus device then they're catering primarily for just this tiny the overlap here for everyone else you're just getting a smaller battery a little bit extra cost and yet another thing that's going to drain your battery so that's the next fold it'll probably be announced March to April next year but I'll have more info before then so if you could subscribe that would be amazing I hope to examine a firm that is a lot of refined quicker and a lot of sturdy thus perhaps this point we can't even would like an avid video simply to inform you the way to take care of it thanks for reading and I'll catch you in the next one!

Via - https://www.maunohanan.co.in

Heytheredevlopr

[fly-pow-bye]

Ducktales 2017 - “Daytrip of Doom!”

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Christian Magalhaes, Bob Snow, Rachel Vine, Matt Youngberg

Written by: Rachel Vine

Storyboards by: Emmy Cicierega, Ben Holm, Jason Reicher

Directed by: Dana Terrace

Imported guitar games!

We start off the cold open of the first regular episode with Scrooge McDuck waking up, not really minding that Huey, Dewie and Louie are playing with foam dart guns. He even helps Dewey out by telling him not to shout when he's aiming at something, possibly training him for future missions. Mrs. Beakley doesn't exactly agree, as she alone has to prevent anything from getting broken.

Eventually, we get to see the far more adventurous and Mabel Pines-like Webby, doing what she does. Webby takes this game far more seriously, using grappling hooks, night-vision goggles, and even sets up a trap for Dewey and Louie to fall into. This contrast between the Webby and the boys sets up the main premise of the A plot.

After Scrooge McDuck finally draws the line at Donald Duck bathing in his washroom, Scrooge McDuck starts a family meeting to lay down two rules. 1. His space is his space, and 2. Refer to Mrs. Beakley for any other rules. While he had some character development with the nephews, he's still just as selfish as ever. He doesn't appear for most of this episode, giving more of the spotlight to the nephews and granddaughter.

This is not to say it's only the nephews and the granddaughter. Mrs. Beakley continues the meeting by flipping the blackboard to reveal a complicated diagram of rules. Much to Donald's chagrin, one of them is that nobody is above them, not even Donald, and he's not very happy about that. They get into a fight, telling the kids to leave. This sets up the B plot of Mrs. Beakley and Donald Duck not really getting along.

After they're forced to leave for what is probably not a kissing session, as they assumed. Webby wants to play more games, but the boys suggest a nap instead. Louie gives a better plan: going to Funso's Funzone! Dewey decides to invite Webby, because she's been sheltered all her life. Webby leaves to get her stuff by climbing up the wall. Whimsy!

Webby brings the usual kids stuff: grapping hooks, night vision goggles, the same kind of things she used in the foam dart scene. She tells herself that she's going to play it cool. She is not going to play it cool. From this scene, one can guess where this is going. She's going to be awkward, she's going to ruin the day somehow, the boys will shun her, and she's probably going to use these items to help the boys defeat whatever evil is going to capture them later in the episode.

While Webby gets super excited, we take a slight detour to the B plot, where Mrs. Beakley confronts Donald over him hooking up too many things and literally just holding a running water hose. There isn't much to say about these scenes. The episode just stops to show Donald Duck failing to get power. I've watched this episode a lot; I don't really remember what was funny about these scenes. For the record, Scrooge is nonexistent in this episode beyond the first scene, though he seems to be on Donald Duck’s side by virtue of not really caring. That's not necessarily a bad thing; he didn't need to be in this episode.

Webby gets to go on a bus for the first time in her life. Huey tries to prepare her, among other things, not to lick anything. Let's see how that works out!

Not well. She couldn't even follow the "no licking anything" rule, though thankfully on a pole. Apparently, she was so annoying, even the boys get thrown out, even though they didn't do anything. They seem fine with it, seemingly giving her quite a few chances. However, they have to walk through a seedy part of the neighborhood to get to their destination. Where people write "flatulence" on the wall, ducks play hopscotch on crime scene chalk outlines...

...and, of course, where three of the Beagle Boys are mugging some poor bird and stealing his truck. If you're familiar with the original show, they certainly have more distinct designs. One of the major differences is that Burger, the fat one that loved to eat in the original cartoon, is now a skinny guy who only speaks in grunts. It looks like they just took his admittedly "not cool nowadays" personality away, but maybe it'll get better in future episodes.

After the commercial break, they're finally at Funso's Funworld, and this episode turns out to be a "kids visit the Chuck E Cheese clone" episode. Each of the nephews seem to have their own way of having fun. By each of them, I mean just Louie and Dewey.

Louie takes her to the Pizza Pier, and he continues to be the sleaziest of the three. He clearly knows everyone in the pier, and is able to talk his way into free tokens and free drinks. Specifically, asking for water cups, and getting fruit punch. Webby is horrified, but Louie asks her to try the same thing.

Of course, her lack of social skills and inability to lie, outright telling the server what she intends to do with the water cup, only ends up getting the manager, who happens to be a pig, to kick both of them out. There is a really good joke that really plays into Webby's new character that is really subtle, but it's mostly just the expected scene otherwise.

Meanwhile, the Beagle Boys are. A man in a Funso costume tells them that no adults can come in unless they're accompanied by a minor. Big Time points backwards, and we see Bouncer in an ill-fitting outfit and holding a lollipop.

Now, how is this any different from those awful drag jokes in certain lesser cartoons? First, it's not a drag joke. The joke isn't just "look at this wacky villain in a costume", they play up now nobody would actually buy this. He actually says that line. An actual joke, if simple.

Speaking of simple jokes. Dewey introduces Webby to Uke or Puke, an obvious Guitar Hero parody. The joke is vomit.

Dewey: Behold! The best game ever created! Japanese import, there’s only one in the U.S., and I have the top ten scores...so I’m pretty much the best in the country.

Oh, so it's a GuitarFreaks parody! Despite never playing a video game before, she easily gets the hang of it. Yeah, that's definitely not accurate to real life, especially with those Japanese rhythm games. In fact, considering arcades nowadays, especially considering Chuck E Cheese, I'm surprised tickets never get involved.

We never get to see if Dewey's high scores get beaten by the utter magic of Webby, because this is all interrupted by Big Time and Bouncer in the Funso costume they stole by force in the previous scene. It ends as soon as it begins, as Webby instinctively hits the person sneaking up on her with the fake ukelele. Unforunately, not only do people see her as beating up Funso, he happens to land in a way that unhooks the game, getting rid of all the high scores.

As said before, they don't really think of a thing she could do to ruin Huey's enjoyment, so he just joins in to show that they aren't really that mad, subverting our expectations. Of course, this doesn't last long, as an acccident involving a deep part of a ball pit and the grappling hook causes Webby to accidently cause a fire. Even the boys get banned from Funso's, even if only one of them actually did anything wrong.

As for that prediction, while the boys never shun her directly, they sure think it loudly. Thankfully, as the manager calls Funso to take them away, it turns out Funso is still the Beagle Boys in disguise. Tying them up with rope, something proven on this very blog to keep superheroes from escaping, Big Shot has them call...

Ma Beagle, their boss. One of the main aspects of Ma Beagle is that Big Shot really wants her to give him praise, but Ma Beagle just isn't having it. He tells Ma Beagle all about his plan to kidnap the McDuck Brats, and have Burger throw a ransom note at Donald Duck, letting the B plot converge into the A plot for the benefit of the episode.

While the Beagle Boys are different from the original, they're still not too bright, as Ma Beagle tells them they just painted a giant target on themselves. Not only could Scrooge McDuck come in and give some a whollop rather than dollars, but possibly Mrs. Beakley as well! They don't get into too much detail, but the fact that the maid has a reputation says a lot about her.

Sure enough, Mrs. Beakley and Donald confront the Beagle Boys, and everyone's preparing for Mrs. Beakley to finally show what she'll do in an adventure situation. Unforunately, we're just going to have to wait.

Instead, it's Donald Duck that takes him down with his trademark outburst. The disappointment is most replaced by knowing how Donald Duck probably took care of things back when he was adventuring with Scrooge and Della. As for the other two, and how the nephews and Webby get out of their situation, I like being more vague when it comes to shows I actually enjoy, so I'll just spoil at least one things: Webby at least knows how to get out of rope, which was made believable by her previous actions.

Needless to say, I was mostly correct about my initial assumption, as Webby learns it's okay to be the odd one even if it caused them to be banned from a place they really loved. They seem to be okay with it, so everything turned out alright.

While this episode does a good job in building up Mrs. Beakley as this amazing person, both in how the Beagle Boys and Ma Beagle talk about her and a little joke in the end, we never actually see her do anything beyond her keeping the house safe from the nephew’s dart gun game in the beginning.

Teasing things that may happen in future episodes is happening a lot with this show, and it will happen in the next episode as well. Clearly, they want to be watching. I want to watch these potential episodes, so...mission accomplished?

How does it stack up?

Obviously, this wasn’t going to be as epic as the special that started this show. There’s still some good jokes, and one of my worries, that Webby would become this invincible can't-do-anything-wrong-unlike-those-icky-boys character in an effort to try to make her not as unmemorable as the original Webby, didn’t entirely come true. On the other hand, while not everything has to be a part of a major plotline, this is a cartoon after all, most of this episode felt like a throwaway.

According to Comcast, this episode was meant to be episode 3. Having seen The Great Dime Chase so I can have some sort of comparison for my ratings, I can probably see why they decided to swap the two. Not that this episode is bad, far from it, but let's just say, the next episode will have more of a bang than this one.

Honestly, this is the most skippable episode I've seen of the show so far, even if it's still entertaining. In the Fly Pow Bye economy, with its show-specific bell curves, Neutral Nephews are worth a little more than a Happy Buttercup.

Next, let's get to the chase!

← Woo-oo! 🦆 The Great Dime Chase! →

#fpb dt 2017 #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #disney #fpb reviews

[mikazukikannagisjourney]

Know THYSELF: The Importance of Knowing who You are, and why this Matters

Subtitle: This super-long post also has some tips somewhere in the end =)

Hi everyone, I hope you are all doing well.

I was gonna post a spiritual log but I got guided to write this, after I reviewed my own stuff aka my natal birth chart, my human design and the gene keys I was born with. To be honest, knowing the self is probably, and in my opinion the best gift you can give your self, as well as others. Because truth be told, some of the most miffing people out there, (based on my experiences) are those who don’t know what they want, if they actually want want they want, or have no idea how to deal with personal issues and stuff because they don’t actually take time to get to know themselves. Inversely, some people are also annoying because they don’t know how to interact with other people, and are too caught-up im in their own worlds to even care or think that they may have hurt other people by being too-self-absorbed. Spoiler alert: I WAS and probably am still on this entire spectrum so I am not saying that I have transcended this whole dilemma and I am better than anyone else. Lol that would be a dream tho, not.

*If you click the links you can get your own charts generated, just add your birth date, exact birth time, and more or less exact birth location, if you wanna learn more stuff down the rabbit hole*

OK, now that the intro-ish stuff has been brought down with, I shall formally start this very long-ish post by writing stuff about why it is important to know your self.

Partial Self-awareness: The myth that you already know everything you know about yourself right now, but some part of you says otherwise.

Well, that sucks right? I mean, no matter how much you say you know what you want or you are completely sure about something major about your self, there is at least a 10% chance that you may have missed a spot. And this normally won’t make itself known until you start forming relationships outside of your own zone: friends, workmates or schoolmates, lovers, mentor-student relationships, even having pets or kids. Normally when we are by ourselves, at the very least we feel a bit more confidence, strength, even some self-love. Because we see ourselves through our own lenses, albeit tinted at times. However, once we start seeing ourselves through the eyes of other people, as well as getting stimuli that are often beyond our realm of control, we often get surprised, and we start acting out of character. And by that I mean out of the character that we thought we knew, in a negative way. Left unchecked, unassessed, or even ignored, this anger or frustration goes on to become triggering mechanisms that would eventually sap us of our good vibes, our zest for life, or even wanting to go out and get some sun, or moon, or stars. In really worst cases, not knowing the self fully can cause self-sabotage in the form of self-doubt, insecurities, jealousy, having zero initiatives, you know, stuff that can make or break relationships. And if you already invested a lot of emotional, financial, and whatever attachment to these things, losing them can really hurt like hell, which leads to more self-sabotaging behaviors, more ruined stuff, and so on. Like a gut-wreching death spiral that only sees death as an end goal.

But don’t worry, it’s not all doom and gloom, for if you know yourself fully, and chose to heal or change what needs to be changed: attitudes, beliefs, mindsets, perspectives, the stuff that relies on your own perceptions, then at least half of the issues become readily solved.

How?

By learning how to recognize patterns of behaviors and responses that were causing the self-sabotage in the first place, and doing stuff to change them so that instead of feeling down and worthless, you instead regain your self-composure, your balance, and most importantly, you become EMPOWERED. YOu grow to become a better version of yourself. See? I told you the importance of this cannot be stressed even more lol. 

But seriously... You might start asking “How come I didn’t even know these?”

Well, actually, your conscious monkey brain doesn’t, but your deeper than an iceberg subconscious sure knows. Not that it’s smarter than your conscious or anything. It’s just more powerful though, because it has more storage capacity and won’t budge no matter how many times you do your affirmations or what. Not that I bash affirmations, goodness no, They’re very helpful with proper usage. But the subconscious mind is a lot thicker than your skull, and more often than not everything it has learned won’t just simply go away no matter how much motivational speeches or conscious affirmations you do. Well, for me and a whole bunch of people who bashed the Law of Attraction when we first tried it. Around 90-95% of the trial users lolol I am trying to make the mood happy here ok? Also don’t be angry at your subconscious mind, it’s the reason why you can sing sappy songs while riding a bike or driving your car. It’s also the reason why you could just start making pancakes without needing a book, assuming you have been cooking it all your life. It has some cool skills too, you know. But when it comes to chasing our dreams and our happiness, despite our best and intentioned efforts, the subconscious mind can either help us tremendously or be our biggest hater, basher, and even barrier and blockage.

This is because the subconscious mind has greater capacity, as well as a deeper connection to your outer world. It sucks to know and hear this but yes. After doing subliminals for 2 years and just now getting the hang of it and getting some harsh unwanted results due to my own unresolved issues,yes, this is a very painful truth. And this is where the idea of gaining power by knowing yourself comes to play. 

Why?

So you can heal your own wounds. Resolve your own personal issues. Become closer and more connected with other people, in deeper ways. And most importantly, be a better person than ever before. All with the help of your subconscious mind. 

*Quick reminder, the subconscious mind can be likened to a recorder. By itself it does only one thing: PLay recorded stuff. Unless you push “Record” in order to change a track in the tape (or memory card yeah I work with both types lolol), it can’t change the stuff that were already written on it, and it will only play whatever tracks are already recorded in it. Forever. Click here to learn more about this dual-sided nature of the subconscious mind and how such changes can affect our genetics, through DNA methylation. Trust me, we learned this stuff back in college and is only appearing out now.*

Yay, the first part of this post is already done! NOw let’s move on to the next two. I shall base my stuff on HUman Design because aside from it working for me, I haven’t seen anything like it that helped me learn even more about myself, amybe a lot deeper than getting natal birth charts. Not an expert but you can check the materials here. It’s one big rabbit hole if you wanna read more into it. You’ll need your human design chart though.

There are two ways of learning who we truly are: learn directly or indirectly.

1. Learning who the self is, directly.

*If you already got your human design chart, please check if you’re a Generator: Pure Generator or a Manifesting Generator (has the 20-34 channel connected, throat to sacral center aka the red square in the belly part of your diagram) because this is for you. All other types are in #2, but since this is for you to learn who you are, or who you are not, you can read this part too*

Well, that should be easy, right? Well, yeah, easy on paper, but not gonna lie it’s quite challenging to do in real life. BEcause learning how to do it involves a lot of taking risks, gaining new experiences, meeting new people, going to new places, and all that enrichment stuff. BAsically going out of your comfort zone. I’m not saying you should abandon all your core values here. But if you’re only not wanting to do something because you’re scared (i.e. you are uninitiated with meeting new people through dating apps) and not because you’re going against your personal values (i.e. being forced by a bunch of friends to go on a date with someone that harassed you when you already stood your ground and asserted yourself to this person), well the former is a component of your comfort zone and should be expanded, by all means.

Basically, just be open to new and expansion-making experiences. Doesn’t need to be grand. You can start with going back to old hobbies, adding new skillsets to those you already have, read books that you normally wouldn’t read, stuff like that. Or expand your current knowledge on what you already know.

You can also start from scratch, learn something new, or try out something that scares the heck out of you, like learning trigonometry or advanced calculus, or learning the mechanisms of cell-signalling cascades lolol not kidding there though. Meet new people in classes, events, or just try participating in online forums as a noob. Watch a movie that you didn’t wanna watch and never did because of all the bad reviews, but this time with an open mind and heart.

Or do someting cathartic, like CLEANING. Clean your house, clean your inboxes, clean your friends list, your phone contacts, and don’t forget to clean your mind of the subconscious garbage, because seriously that’s a lot more hard work than unfriending a bunch of people lolol but I am serious here. People uinderestimate the energizing effects of cleaning, because it literally removes energetic cords, it clears the energetic field (yours) and I have to tell you that as a person who just moved into a new place, seriously cleaning is both an annoying and a rewarding experience. It can help you assess your values in life, what matters most to you, and what makes you happy. Even before Marie Kondo started her stuff, I was already doing this since college. That was almost a lifetime ago. Dang I feel old, and fabulous lol.

But then you might ask, “WHy am I doing this, exactly?”

So you can learn what you like and don’t like. What gives you joy and what  doesn’t. What makes you happy and what makes you feel effed up. Not that it gives a more solid self-identity, but rather it allows you to be fluid, and gives you a chance to be on both sides of the fence. So that you can give better opinions and suggestions. But at the same time also empathetic to the ideas of people on the other side of the fence. You can even be a better friend or lover or companion who can spread your joy and love, especially since Generators have the type of aura that is welcoming and energizing to others (my Projector friend told me so, she feels great after we had our gabfest and after I give her card readings. lolol shameless self-promo). Comprising roughly 70% something of the world’s population, if all of the generators consistently do their best in knowing who they truly are, miracles can happen, and there would be less annoyance and frustration, and more satisfaction in  our daily lives. In turn, we get to channel more high vibrational energies to everyone else on the planet. As a Generator like you (I’m actually a Manifesting Generator, still same more or less), this is our gift: to share others our enduring strength by energizing ourselves as well as the people around us. Which is why seriously, now is the best time to be open on both sides because in the midst of all the current (and probably will only escalate more) chaos, you only need your inner guide, your personal compass, and knowing that you are confident with your choices because YOU had the actual experience only makes you even more powerful, because you can truly speak from the heart. Not everyone can do that, because the other people who are scared to take this leap just stay on one side for their entire lives. You’re born to be better and stronger than that, so just do it. (Or not, just trust your gut. We are gut peeps lolol no really, that’s part of our design) Also, based on your design (a defined aka solid sacral center, the square under the diamond shape) you have more than the usual capacity to endure, and to allow things to happen for you based on your gut instincts. Even when the going gets tough.

Additional important note: As Generators (the workforce of the world lol but yeah really), because our sacral centers are defined aka solid (especially when combined with a defined solar plexus center aka a yellow triangle at the right side of the square) this means that we innately have a strong sense of self: who we are and what we want, or don’t want. Or we don’t easily get influenced, even if we were conditioned to be. Thus, our power lies in knowing who we are, and knowing who we are gives us consistency, reliability, and ultimately satisfaction in our choices and decisions. That is how we generate our power, by following our gut feelings and following through till we complete our task or goal. After finishing it beautifully as expected (of us lol), it gives us a wonderful sense of completion, and it makes us feel great about ourselves. We trust ourselves better. And this is a form of self-mastery that can really give you peace. However, self-doubt, not following through, or not asserting ourselves takes away our precious power, which leaves us drained, exhausted, burnt-out, angry and frustrated, well, basically stuff that leads to depression and not to mention a really weak physique, and we really need to have a strong body for all of our motor centers aka the stuff that helps make things happen) to be at tip-top shape. This whole shite happened to me way back because I just kept myself getting trampled even though I was already unhappy with my work and how I was being treated, all for the sake of getting some cash. I basically gave my power and self-worth away, and I ended up with a really horrible (now a somewhat chronic) back pain (I am currently having this condition as I type this now. It popped up due to my need to release anger, see previous Thought log lol) and even deeper depression. While it may take us a bit shorter time to recover compared to other types, it still sucks that we have to stay in recovery, and in a whole lot of pain. So preventing burnout by doing what we love (that’s where we get even more  energies to do a whole truckload of work) and attaining a strong sense of self-satisfaction and self-love is really what we need to push ourselves towards self-improvement and to attain a more fulfilling and magical life.

Basically, KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. That’s exactly my point.

2. Learning who the self is, indirectly

*Check your chart if you’re a Manifestor, a Projector, or a Reflector, this is for you. Sorry if the stuff won’t be as rich as the previous one since I have more experiences as a Generator, Also I based these on some Projectors I know lol haven’t met an actual Manifestor or Reflector they’re like around 9% and 1% of the population respectively, so if you’re either, please don’t hesitate to say HI. But if you’re a Generator, especially a Manifesting Generator, feel free to read lol*

So if you happen to read the entire segment on Generators, and you’re not one, I’ll give you a pat on the back (or hugs if you want), that was a lot of stuff to read. And it isn’t even for you. But ironically, if you happened to read it, then you just did some learning about yourself INDIRECTLY. TA-DAH!

But I am not making a bamboozle here. What I said was something that many people actually base or formulate their own opinions with. By interacting with others, they learn more about themselves by hearing many perspectives, churning them into their own brand of butter, and eventually formulating something out of it. Unless you’re a Manifestor, you just say the word and people make your butter lolol yeah really.

But seriously, for people with this method of learning about the self based on outside sources is even better and more effective than trying to figure out things on their own. Having the opinion or experiences of others (most-likely a Generator because there’s more of us lolol the power of Statistics) is a better option in learning (i.e. you watch what experts do instead of doing all of the available options out there by yourself) than trying out what works because having to do stuff through a process of trial and error can actually put an energetic strain on these three types. While Generators can do all of that trial and error thingy because of their scarily solid willpower and their strong energy centers aka the sacral center, because this is not defined aka clear and white as a ghost for Manifestors, Projectors and Reflector types, it means that whatever energies you already had will be readily depleted, and recovery can take a long time, even when you feel like you exerted only a little effort. Trust me when I say that what you did was more than enough if you felt like you just wanna lay down and sleep for the entire day, or week.  

If you’re wondering how I had in idea on why this is so, well...

I don’t know about the other two types since I don’t personally know of any Manifestor or Reflector, but I guess having a Projector younger brother who gets exhausted playing games if he tries to figure stuff on his own and a Projector friend who gets easily drained after getting duped by other people to become a sounding board and later regrets it before ending up in a daze really helps me better understand open sacral center types a bit better. I just compare them to myself in similar situations, and assessing what happens to them after I give them a piece of my mind or whatever. For my brother, aside from watching video tutorials or reading GameFaqs (lol) based on whether I watched him play or not, just chatting with him while he slays demons, monsters, or whatever he’s playing at the moment sorta extends his play time by about 30mins at least compared to when I don’t appear around him to watch. He’s probably unaware though lolol BUt my Projector friend who is also one of my Soul Sisters and is quite familiar with Human Design (because I pushed her to get an overiew aka me explaining her chart to her and she actually realizing how legit the whole thing is lolol Manifesting Generator issues hahaha) actually tells me that each time we chat on the phone, she gets readily-grounded and energized, as well as having a better sense of herself after the call. I won’t exactly know if it’s because of me being a Generator who naturally does it, or because she gets free extended readings (lolol again, shameless self-promo here), or just the combination of getting her questions answered as well as getting her energetic fix. She just tells me that she feels depleted at the beginning of the call, after geting caught up and too-anxious on thinking what to do, why things happen, basically the mind starts running so fast But then she gets super-excited and revived during and before ending the call, because she receives clarity on what she needs to do, even if it makes no sense to me logically. And I weirdly after that can still go on and gab some more, I sometimes even do chores after that.

So what is the point of this segment about Projectors?

Well, it has two points:

Sometimes it is easier to walk the pavement than make it. Unless you’re a Manifestor who initiates things. But (then again, this just means that they’ll make the layout, the others will just do the manual labor) they can only do so much with their own power, and it would be a bit helpful for them to ask aid from other people like filling in the other “back-end” stuff that needs to be done aka follow through with the details. Being humble and telling people what you plan to do, how it can be done, and putting trust on other people that they will do it the best way they can with their power (because probably they’re Generators lol), can revitalize your energy and creative ideas. Same for Projectors, it is better to just create a plan, and assuming that people were already on board with your plan (because your abilities got recognized, your ideas didn’t get rejected and you felt great) to manage people who can do it through delegation and division of labor (they’re probably Generators because again, statistics lolol honestly I wanna be a Manifestor but nope), and just rest. Sorry, I can’t say much about Reflectors though, but I believe that they need a long time to ruminate things and decide, or else they’ll end up being disappointed with their choices and feeling even more disempowered.

Learning about other people’s opinions, knowledge and experiences can be rewarding  because you not only learn about your own needs in a deeper sense through sifting and distilling of the information carefully, but also by having an idea on what makes the people around you tick. This can help you become really good at catching on their current states, which can improve your communication and rapport with them. It also makes them more receptive of you, especially if you’re a Manifestor because let’s face it, you can be quite intimidating and seem angry all the time (or so they say). It also saves the Projector a lot of disappointment due to rejection because they gain a better sense of not pushing their output into the faces of the people and instead waiting for the right chance aka getting recognized and invited by others to share their stuff. Trust me, a lot of people just wanna share their own unsolicited opinions and advices and while some can take the heat when rejected, others just cannot and it is hard for them to let go, to the point that they think it is a personal attack. Hint: it’s not.

In Conclusion: There is no right or wrong way to know more about your true self. 

Any method can actually work for any type, just as long as you don’t feel threatened, compromised, or be under so much stress. Just remember to work with what you’re designed with: Generators can do the trial-and-error thingy, and Manifestors, Projectors and Reflectors can go for other people for their input and other kinds of information sharing so that a consensus can be reached aka you'll get to know better if something is for you or not based on whether you like it or not.  Also, you don’t have to rush things (ahem, GENERATORS, AHEM), sometimes going with the flow is just as important as paddling, sometimes it’s even better and gives more magical results.

I hope this super long-post helped you in any way. I did whatever I can within my knowledge and intuition so that this post can be made. If even just one person helps this make their lives better, then this is all worth it.

Thank you very much for reading. Any comment, suggestions, even just a short reply are most welcome. If it helped you in any way, I would love to hear about it.

Be well always, and may you find the healing you seek.

With love and hugs from Source above,

三日月 🌙

Mikazuki

PS. If you found the information in this post to be very helpful, insightful, and of great value to you and your own personal journey, please feel free to reblog, share and heart/like, or if you feel super-generous, energetic exchanges are welcomed! Please click here and use this email address: [email protected]

Thank you so much and be blessed!

#thought log on knowing the self #know thyself #why knowing who you are is very important #know yourself #how to know who you really are #learn who you truly are #learn who you are #know who you are #human design #generators #manifesting generators #projectors #reflectors #manifestors #human design generators #human design manifesting generators #human design manifestor #human design projector #human design reflector

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Junkrat Headcanon

He has a bad memory, patchy really. There’s a big old void in certain places, and at best, other bits get filed in the wrong places sometimes...

He might tell you a story six or seven times, and never remember you know it.

He might be asked a basic question, and blank.

Sometimes he turns to Roadhog, because the man is usually in the vicinity, for answers. The taller man’s ability to just produce all the facts, stories and things Junkrat can’t recall, after a few seconds’ thought at most...  it always left Junkrat in awe of him. Like he was some mythical being endowed with some great ability to know-all or something... 

He does tell him that... a few times, because the thought surfaces a few times, and Junk never quite remembers he’s said it. But Roadhog always laughs, good-naturedly, and lets the statement float away on the breeze uncontested.  Sometimes Junkrat worries he puts too much on Roadhog, asking him to be the repository for both their memories... as much as he can be, but Mako never seemed to mind. And openly says so more than once, when Jamie needed to hear it.

But the thing is... while Roadhog will always be there to quietly remind Junkrat of a fact or memory he forgot, or just listen to the same story a thousand times, because he KNOWS Jamie and understands it upsets him to realise he has forgotten again... 

-

Perhaps, when they join overwatch, the others aren’t as fast on the uptake as Roadhog. [And Roadie was whipsmart, despite what people always assumed (because of his appearance), the man could size up a situation or opponent in a heartbeat and crack skulls in the next...]

-

“How can you not know how old you are?” asks Mei, puzzled, as Junkrat scrambles to recall. He ends up so stressed out he can’t get a sentence strung together, trying to recall. 

Besides, you never tell someone a weakness unless you can trust them completely and they’ve been at base a day or so.

It leaves the cryogenics expert with a less-than-stellar perception of him; thinking him evasive. Especially since he couldn’t answer any cursory questions with any real certainty...

But he was telling the truth.

Why would no one believe him?

-

“I think he’s just faking it...” Mcree says to Hanzo, when the pair accost him to ask about the treasure and the omnic secret. But he can’t recall it, off-hand... he did have prompts in the sidecar, and Roadie knew what it was... but Jamie couldn’t remember. 

“I’m telling the truth!” he insists, but their expressions hit home more than their words. The disbelief. “I ain’t lying!”

“Oh yeah... prove it!” comes the challenge.

But he can’t. They keep asking the same questions, asking the wrong way, not leading anywhere but in circles.

“You will tell us.” Hanzo assures.

And they won’t accept, “But I can’t...” as an answer.

He’s so tempted to use his bombs to get out of this confrontation, but that Soldier guy looked like he’d get real mad if Junkrat blew up another wall; and he didn’t wanna get thrown out. Roadie seemed to like it here, and they had clean stuff, real food and beds!

They have him backed into a corner, literally and figuratively. And he kinda wishes there was a good lie he could tell the bounty hunters to make them back off... but it was hard to be deceptive if you might accidentally tell the truth or something along those lines. The logistical thinking tended to get muddled.

It was why he liked technology, explosives, machines... so ordered, diagrams were absolute; he could follow them and understand without too much stress. Tended to remember pictures better, anyway.

And maybe, he could have just stood up straight and walked away, ‘cause they weren’t exactly the tallest on the team or the burliest... but the thought is buried under all the additional processing happening internally. 

He starts to wonder if there even was a secret, had he made it up? had Roadie told him he knew one, to placate him? Or had he lied about that? And if it was real... what was it? He didn’t have any of his usual visual clues (something roadhog had helped him devise after realising Junkrat was great at memorising or at least associating, diagrams and ideas).

A metallic fist slams the wall by his head and reality snaps back with a flinch, “What?”

And there’s a moment, between the two older men, where they seem almost uncertain. Like they were starting to believe Junkrat... but before anything can process, Roadhog comes storming in to the explosive expert’s rescue. He’s never been happier to see the guy in his life...

...or has he?

-

“How could you do such a thing?” Ana scolds, putting out the small kitchen fire (and to be fair it was an accident). “What would your mother say?” 

It stops him dead.

...what would she say?

...who was she?

...had he had a mother, before? 

...was she still out there wondering what happened to him or should he have mourned her?

...what if she was, how would she feel about her son being... this? He’d killed people... sometimes blew shit up for the fun of it... 

So many questions, and none of them could be answered... all he had was a familial-shaped void where his memories of her should be...

Perhaps it was the hollow, haunted look on his face or his non-responsiveness, but Ana clearly realised something was wrong. She approached him from an angle where he could see her coming, if he wasn’t lost internally... and slowly put a hand out, eventually placing it on his shoulder.

She anticipated the slight jump, the Junkers were not yet used to having contact with anyone but each other for a long time, but their survival instincts/paranoia overrode their touchstarved-ness. At least he could look at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know...”

“No... ‘sokay... I just... didn’t remember I didn’t remember ‘til now.” he mutters, unusually subdued. “Can’t remember... if I had one, or her face... nothing..."

“I am sure you had a wonderful mother, who loved you as much as I do Fareeha...” Ana reassures, off-handedly thinking about how she would feel if this was her daughter, young, lost and unable to recall anything about Ana’s love or pride in her. Just the hypothetical situation broke her heart.

“...maybe.” concedes the junker, then he laughs coldly, brushing her hand off as he walked away. “But if she’s a lucky... she died long before she had to see her son turn into this...”

To that, the Sniper could not think of a comforting retort. And her hatred of the Omnics, of the damage they had wrought on so many lives, young and old, grew ever-stronger in that moment.

-

“...oh, did you have a sister?” asks the ever-curious DVa one day as they pass a toystore and Junkrat pauses to stare at the dolls. 

He looks at her blankly, cocking an eyebrow, and says nothing.

She raises her hands in mock surrender and laughs, misunderstanding, “Dude, if you collect dolls that’s totally fine with me! I know Torb has this collection of old tech that he’ll never get to work again, but clutters up the place with anyway... and I think Reaper has glass figures or something and-...”

“Thanks... but s’not that.” he interjects her supportive speech. He keeps looking at this one doll, just a random, run-of-the-mill type, kind you’d find all over the globe for cheap. “Just... made me think I seen that before... or somethin’ like it, and I don’t think it was... mine...”

He frowns, “Least probably not... mighta had a whole collection before the world went to hell or something...” and then he makes that piercing laugh that still sent a chill through the Mechapilot’s bones. The conversation was at an end, clearly. So they both moved on... but she didn’t miss his glance back at the doll, or the confusion on his face as he tried to grasp at phantom memories.

DVa never brought it up again.

-

“Crikey, that’s fucking amazing, mate!” comes the booming praise, over his newest track, and the shorter of the two clicks back onto solid floor; having been practicing his wallriding in the specially-equipped gymnasium. 

“Thank dude!” beams Lucio, a man who was basically sunlight in human form. His smile falters for just a second, but Junkrat sees it.

“Wot, mate? Is it the ‘fucking’? I can say ‘freaking’ instead if ya prissy ‘bout that sorta thing...” Lucio hesitates, but decides to be straightforward. “Nah, I’ve heard worse you say what you want, man. It’s just... I mean, not that I don’t appreciate the daily compliments, but-...”

And he sees Junkrat’s face fall. “I’ve... said that to you before?”

“Yeah, but it’s fi-... wait, come back!” he calls after the retreating Aussie, but Junkrat’s already gone. 

Now he sees what Ana meant. They needed to speak to Mercy about this.

-

“...no, I meant where IN Australia?” Soldier sighs, exasperated with the new recruits. It’d been a long day of paperwork, and he was over this little game.

Junkrat shrugs, “Ya asked where I was born, and I’m 99% sure it was Australia... dunno where exactly though.”

God, this damn kid was playing games again, this happened everytime he or Reaper needed to get something administrative done with the Junkers. He should have asked Roadhog, but Mercy wanted to speak with the guy for some reason... so he was stuck interviewing the evasive explosives expert.

“Alright, fine... I’ll just put down ‘Australia’ until you’re ready to cooperate. Next question, WHEN were you born?” 

“Uh...” Junkrat stalls, starting to count on his fingers. Jack could toss him out the window for prolonging this, did the Junker get perverse amusement out of this or what?

“That’s something I also ain’t real clear on, think I’m... twenty... uh, twoish?”  “You’re telling me that you, someone who has committed elaborate heists all over the globe, and evaded arrest... magically can’t remember his real name, age, or birthday?” snaps the man, really losing his patience for whatever this is.

“Well... yeah,” admits the Junker, getting a little smaller as his eyes dart to the only exit in the room, flesh hand fingering one of his bombs. 

“Don’t you dare blow anything else up, we’ve already replaced two walls this week!” he cautions, fingers itching to go for his blaster. Was this what Overwatch was reduced to? A handful of ragtag criminal punks being recruited to fill the gaps where good soldiers had stood, proud and willing to serve?

“...ya ain’t giving me many other options here, mate. I said I don’t know, and I don’t. Roadie might... sometimes I remember things and tell ‘im, but then I forget I did...” 

The answer makes him pause. Maybe the kid wasn’t lying or fucking about.

He gives him the benefit of the doubt, “Alright, I’ll ask him. There’s still a few questions left we can try to answer... Do you have any current convictions? We can check yes automatically. Any dietary requirements?” Junkrat perks up, but Soldier cuts him off with, “Bearing in mind that requesting fried frill-neck lizard (whatever that is) be added to the rotational meal menu... is not a dietary requirement.”

The Junker deflates a little. “Then nah.”

Well, at least this was going faster. 

“Okay, just a handful more, bear with me... have you had your complete medical check with Dr Ziegler, yet?”

The odd laugh he got in response stated that clearly the Aussie had managed to evade Mercy, thus far. 

“Put that as a No, then.” Soldier mumbles, checking off everything n the clipboard, and hovering the pen over the next set of boxes...

“What is your preferred sex? Male, female, nonbin-...” he tries, but Junkrat’s mirthful tone cuts him off.

“Prefer it as often as possible with all of the above, mate.” The wink he adds at the end has Soldier tossing the clipboard in surrender... clearly the kid was messing with him.

“I’m too old for this...” he moans loudly, knowing Reaper was probably watching the security feed and laughing his undead ass off. 

“Hey,” interjects Junkrat with a peculiarly soft tone, belied by the shiteating grin plastering itself across his soot-stained features. “I like a bloke with experience...” 

He blew a rather exaggerated kiss at the exasperated Soldier, and the man just gave up there and then, looks like he was never getting a straight answer out of the damn kid. How had Roadhog survived all these years?

Meanwhile in the monitor room, Reaper was, indeed, laughing his head off. He’d never let Soldier 76 live this down. 

-

Zarya was always aware that she cut a startling figure of a woman, tall and muscular enough to wrestle multiple bears at once. Many people tended to stare, agape, the first time they saw her, or exclaim something in surprise.  Some flushed or stammered, clearly attracted, it was very flattering.

But it could grow wearisome.

Especially when it came to the newest Overwatch members.

Once again, the comment rang out about the gymnasium. “Crikey, what a beaut of a sheila!”  And yes, it was flattering, intended to be, in fact. However, the reality was, she had heard it so often in the last few weeks, it was starting to grate on her nerves somewhat.

“Thank you my friend,” she acknowledges, as always. “I like the way you light up a room” she responds, smiling. And, as always, he laughs.

In fact, many on the team had tried to put out the ever-present fire, more than once; but it was just part of him. Didn’t burn anything, just sort of glowed.  Zarya found it mesmerising, especially during these ‘paint-by-numbers’ sessions.

At first, she had thought it was a joke... or something between them, an ‘in-joke’ da? But, it was the look on his face when he said it that made her realise that this Junkrat person sincerely saw her anew almost everytime they crossed paths. 

His face betrayed the same shock, awe and mild lust that had adorned many faces that gazed upon her in the past. Every time. And she realised that perhaps he did not remember their previous encounters...

It was less frequent, now a month had passed, but every so often, she would hear it. But pretending to be delighted, every single time, was not so heavy a burden to bear for a teammate. Zarya would play this game, until he remembered... and even if he didn’t. That was what friends were for.

Besides, it was flattering, and he was not so bad. They both despised omnics to a similar degree, and she respected his approach to battle.

-

“...are you aware that we have the same conversation every few days, Mr Junkrat?” Winston asks, adjusting his glasses and peering at the Aussie.

For his part, Junkrat immediately drops the wrench he was working with and tenses; his expression clouds, like he’s deep in thought, trying to run back over past situations where they’d done this.

Tracer appears by Winston’s shoulder. “Did you break him?”

“...’sfine.” Junkrat answers, bending to pick up the tool and keep working. “Didn’t realise. Sorry.”

He doesn’t respond to their overtures at conversation for the next hour, and leaves for lunch with Roadhog. But he will be back in a few days, and Winston won’t break the narrative again... it is always a fascinating conversation, even if it is easily scheduled.

-

“I did not build her for this, how many times must I tell you!” shouts Efi, the eleven year old genius frustrated to, once again, find one of the new ‘heroes’ trying to ride Orisa like some kind of horse.

She’d told him so many times that was not appropriate, or, inherently safe.

But every so often, he’d be there; this ‘Junkrat’, who always looked dirty and acted as if he had no idea that they’d discussed this matter before. It did not feel good to see him make such a startled expression, guilty and chagrined, until she said the words ‘again’ or ‘how many times’... which always turned it to confusion and embarrassment.

Today, she had returned to base to find him there again, Orisa trying to be patient as always. “Please cease your actions, for your own safety. I was made to protect, not to be transport, although I will be happy to carry you in an emergency.”

“Get off of her! Why do you keep doing this?” she shouts, understandably annoyed. 

And the australian explosives expert freezes, his previous joviality at the challenge of trying to ride an omnic (which he had originally detested, until Efi had bridged the gap between the Junkers and her creation) evaporates. He looks suitably chagrined.

“...did it again, huh?” he says, and leaves too fast for her to answer.

Orisa narrows her eyeslits.  “This is the sixteenth incursion by the new member ‘Junkrat’, and his twelfth attempt to ride me as one does a horse or vehicle.”

Efi blinks, “Oh? What did he do the other four times?”

“Memory data and visual surveillance indicates he came in, in much the same manner as usual... then paused, and stared for a long time, before leaving.” Answers the OR15. 

“...memory data...” mutters the genius. “You don’t think...?”

“Observation and analysis suggests that interactions with this person are repetitious due to faulty memory collection databanks.” Orisa answers, succinctly. 

“He doesn’t remember I told him off.” Efi responds, thinking, “Have you collected indications that he is able to read proficiently, in your interactions, Orisa?”

“The new member, designation Junkrat, is literate based on personnel records and observed behaviours.” 

Efi brightens, “Oh, perfect!”

The next time Junkrat suddenly gets the idea to ride the Omnic team member (Orisa), he encounters a sign on the door. “Hello Mr Junkrat,  Just to remind you, Orisa is a member of your team and not a horse! She is capable of carrying you out of danger if you need it, but cannot be ridden, because she was not built for that. I made this sign to help you remember our conversation about it! Thank you for understanding, Efi” He huffs out a small chuckle, “Fair enough, kid.” and leaves. But really, even if it’s a little concerning he can’t recall... he’s touched she went to the effort of making him a sign to boost his memories around the topic. He leaves himself a note to teach her how to make an impromptu explosive out of everyday items, as a sort of thank-you; after all, what harm could come from that?

-

“I am sorry to interrupt, but you have told me this story several times, Junkrat.” Symmetra informed, succinctly. 

He just about choked on his own tongue as he swung around to look at Satya with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

She nods, once, in confirmation.

“...oh.” He rubs the back of his neck with his metal hand. “Ah, sorry. Kind of repeat stuff sometimes... didn’t realise... just tell me if I do it again, okay?”

They are in lab three, working on their weapons. Her sentry matrix needs an upgrade, and he has to make a few additions to the bomb-launcher and riptire. It was a weekly activity; everyone had staples of their battle technique and weaponry, but additionally, they all liked to improve their items where possible.

They work in silence for a long while, both caught up in different trains of thought, before Satya breaches the companionable void of sound. “You may have noticed, that I do enjoy things to happen a certain way... that I do not overtly mind repetition, Junkrat. Do not think I am angry or annoyed with you. I was merely... pointing it out.” “Ya don’t have to be nice about it, m’used to being told I already said something. Ain’t a big deal..” he finally answers. “You misunderstand me, Junkrat. There is comfort in both silence, and familiar repetition, especailly for me on occasions when battle has been difficult or a task is frustrating... while my initial statement was to make you aware you repeated stories, it was not an entreaty to cease. I enjoy listening to them, when we work. As I hope you do, when I speak of my own.” “Oh...” there was a pause. “Oh! So ya don’t mind I’m a little messed up?”

Symmetra smiles warmly. “I do not believe there is  person out there who is not, to some degree. Now would you like to continue the tale, or shall I retell one of mine for you?” “You really don’t mind?” he checks again.

“Junkrat, when you look at the architecture of my home, it is grand and beautiful, intricate... and most importantly, the pattern within each design is repetitious. That is what catches the eye and captivates. A story worth telling, is always meant to be retold to those who will listen and understand.” “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever said they’re okay with me telling the same shitty stories over’n’over again... you’re one alright sheila, Symmetra!” he grins back. “Now, where was I? Oh yeah... so there I was, ‘fore I met Roadie, right? And there was this big bloke at the bar-...”

The familiar cadence filled the room as Symmetra went back to work, content at having the rhythm of things restored once more.

-

"I thought we had settled this...” sighed Genji, to his mentor. “Patience.” cautioned Zenyatta, unobtrusively weathering the brunt of the anti-omnic rhetoric for possibly the fifth time since the Junkers had moved onto base. “This is not his fault, not directly, and we cannot blame those who have suffered for their hatred born of fear and loss.”

“But we have done this so many times already!” sighs the youngest Shmada brother.

“And we will do it again, in future, as necessary. That is what it means to know true patience...” responded his mentor, utterly cryptically, as always. Roadhog tended to glare them down, but Junkrat was the more vocal. And they’d thought after the first few altercations and subsequent conversations, that things were finally evening out.  They seemed to trust the pair enough in battle, to heal and protect, but then there would be days like this. Days when there was no recognition in the shorter Australian’s eyes, as he beheld them with shock, fury and some slight tinge of fear-laden madness... 

Genji deflected anything physical, and Zenyatta provided calming words until the young man had calmed down, recalled them, or simply run out of steam. At which point he would provide his Orb of Harmony to reinstate tranquility. It was frustrating, and while Zenyatta was content to wait it out, provide a calming presence and wisdom afterwards... Genji just wanted to know why it kept happening, and how much longer they would have to bear it. 

-

Mercy had tracked him down, eventually.  For the mandatory physical (comprehensive, not the basic bioscan from their initial entry). She had heard things... from various members, both directly and indirectly; had spoken to Roadhog. And now she was armed enough to offer him options...

He resisted, as was initially assumed he would. But between her gentle persuasion and Pharah kindly carrying him there (sans explosives), they managed.

Like Roadhog, his basic biology was a little out of whack, due to the large degree of passive and direct radiation they had been exposed to over the years. Elevated heartrates, internal scarring, little things that were outside normal range by only a fraction...

She did need some help to pin him down for vaccinations, because he didn’t really see why they’d bother... the radiation took care of that sort of thing, kept the bugs at bay and all. But Mercy insisted it would be important in the long run... one the radiation was treated, which was, of course, something they could flush out using her nanotechnology and new concentrated anti-rad serums.

She was explaining them in detail, and he got lost somewhere in the technical side of things, so Mercy flat out vaccinated him against anything she could think of... he honestly wasn’t that bothered afterwards. Perhaps it had been the unknown component... there can’t be that much medical care in Australia right now.

It was then, Mercy brought up the difficult topic... of memory, and mentioned that she had spoken to Roadhog. Junkrat didn’t seem overly offended, just kind of embarrassed. “Yeah... can’t remember much...” was all he offered.

“Well, I will be honest Jamie... I cannot do much for the missing gaps in your memories, but I do happen to have a few methods available that can stimulate your neural pathways and promote greater memory retention and recall. Especially for short-term memory, like conversations and such."

“You can do that?” he asks, surprised.

“Of course!” she enthuses. “But I must caution you, the results will not be immediate... but they will improve your memory retention and recall over time. Maybe not to a perfect level, but...”

“I’ll take whatever ya got!” grins Junkrat.

“Excellent,” Mercy replies, moving over to pick up the associated devices. “Let us begin...”

-

Unfortunately, the team noticed. And put their noses in his business.

-

“No, it’s NOT!” he shouts, startling the room into silence. 

He’s too angry, too frustrated, to elaborate, and storms off. Roadhog’s footfalls tart, then falter... like he’s decided not to follow Junkrat. That’d be right.

He kinda wanted Roadie to come... but he also wanted space. It was a messed up feeling Jamie didn’t have the words for...

But, as he stormed out onto a landing a  few floors up, he realised he wasn’t alone.

“Do you wish to talk about what troubles you, Jamie?” Zenyatta asks, in that oddly ethereal tone, hovering nearby. 

Junkrat feels the Orb of Harmony attach, it always makes you feel lighter, strangely safe. He plonks down on the ledge, drawing his flesh knee to his chest; resting arms and chin on it. 

“It’s... I dunno, mate... how’m I supposed to feel?” Junkrat says, voice cold, tone seething. “Everywhere I fucking look-....! Oh, er, sorry mate, you a monk and all...”

“Think nothing of it... swear if it calms you, ‘mate’ Jamie.” Zenyatta replies, tone almost amused. 

“Well it’s just like, I know me memory’s fucked up... has been for a while. Before roadie, when I was by myself, it didn’t matter ‘cause I didn’t remember I didn’t remember, right?” 

“Indeed.”

“Then I teamed up with Roadie, and he kinda started to remind me that I had said something, or forgot something... and he remembered the important stuff... d’you know I can;t even remember how fucking old I am most of the time?” Junkrat laughs, incredulously, with a hint of anger and hysteria mixed in.

“I understand that would be frustrating.” Zenyatta consoled.

“You bet your shiny metal arse it is!” laughs the aussie.

There was a pause before Zenyatta adds, “I do not, technically, possess an ‘ass’, what else may I bet on this?”

The Junker hoots out a laugh, at the very serious tone the monk said it in, and the mood lightens a fraction. 

“Heh, nah... the real problem is just... ever since we got here, everyone’s either been super angry at me or just letting me repeat stuff over and over. I don’t know which was worse, really. I mean, you’n’Genji had to deal with me yelling at you all the bloody time, and I remember that now... feel like a fucking prick about it... 

But... now everyone knows they’re TOO understanding. Everytime I mess up, whether I know it r not someone’s bloody saying ‘It’s Okay’... but it’s NOT! It’s not okay... it’s... I dunno, I cant put it in words or nothing.”

Zenyatta nods. “You feel more self-conscious about your memory concerns due to the fact that now a larger group of people know, and it is frustrating, which is understandable. Our teammates are trying to help and understand, as best they can... but the concept is new to them. However, the more you remember, and the more they show sympathy to your condition by providing you friendship and insights into their own lives, the greater your awareness of what you do not know of yourself. Specifically your past, and who you were.”

Junkrat squints at him. “...did becoming a monk make ya psychic mate?”

Zenyatta hums back in amusement, his version of laughter. “Something akin to that.”

“I mean, ya right but I don’t wanna admit it. ‘Snice to have everyone care ‘n’all, still weirds me out though... and it’s... too much, sometimes. Sorta like what Symmetra says happens to her... how, suddenly, everything gets too much and she has to get away. Not that bad, though.   Dunno, ‘sall weird. Do ya think I should go back and apologise or just avoid everybody for the rest of my life?” he jokes.

Zenyatta hums back again. “Perhaps we can simply sit here and watch the sunset, and decide what to do after that. If you are still feeling unsure, I do have Transcendence ready... you will be far too relaxed to worry about anything, afterwards.”

“That a threat to make me go back inside after we watch the fiery orb hit the sea?” Junkrat mutters.

Zenyatta tilts his head. “Indeed, Jamie.”

“You’re pretty fun for a monk, and an Omnic, Zen...” Junkrat says, a faint smile on his face as the frustration ebbs away under the mysterious power of the orb and good company.

“High praise, Jamie. I thank you... ‘mate’.”

And that’s how Junkrat nearly fell off a balcony, laughing at an omnic monk imitating his Aussie accent.

-

His memory does improve, somewhat. But the team learns to just work with it, and accept duplicate conversations as something that occasionally happened. It hurt no one, and everyone had their idiosyncrasies... who was to judge any one hero for theirs?

Junkrat, sometimes Jamie if he recalls it, feels integrated into a community for the first time since he can remember. And can finally trust other people, outside of Roadhog; though hoggie is still his go-to for forgotten facts and friendship.

#overwatch #junkrat #headcanons #no reason #also as an aussie i authenticate all statements in this post bc i have legit used crikey that's fucking amazing mate more than once in #actual convos #longpost #mercy #zarya #zenyatta #dva #roadhog #lucio #ana #pharah #genji #mcree #hanzo #orisa #efi #it's 5:30am and this is what I spent an hour wrting for some reason