#EMMY WHO R U ANYMORE???

[zyafics]

okay....that pic of the cat with a collar.....okay emmy may be growing on me

now to the pic i put "so, the old me?" OH SO YOU DONT HANG OUT ANYMORE? U DONT LAUGH ANY MORE? YOU DONT FUCKING LISTEN TO MUSIC ANYMORE?! STOP LYING BITCH U JUST WANT HIM TO BE BAD AND SHIT SOOOO FUCKING BAD KILL URSELF RADIO HOST B I Y A T CH

just kiddinggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg

Rafe calling emmy his kid omg u stabbed me.

LET HER LIVE!

its different with context 🥹 (feel like im fighting for my life explaining reader to u 😭)! reader does not have a traumatic experience with cleo, pope, or any of her friends. her doing those things have been processed and her exposure to getting better alone. this is now with someone who was part of her trauma—part of her experience and so those "things" are co-tied to the memories for her. so she's trying to understand him. trying to see where his intentions lies. because no matter how easy words r, actions are louder and so that's what reader is trying to vet.

[statelies]

(   *  💀  /  jessie mei li, questioning, she/they )  —  is that emmeline vance i just saw rushing down the corridor? i hear they’re a twenty year old hufflepuff, returning for their sixth school year, but their friends would tell you that they are industrious & compassionate as well as blunt & graceless. if you want to know more about them, i guess i could tell you that they’re muggleborn, and from what i hear, they’re currently allying with the order. when our divination professor looks into their crystal ball, they see: falling asleep studying over open books, split open pomegranates, working under flickering candlelight, casual intimacy between friends, a kitchen full of laughter.

CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Izzie Stevens (Grey’s Anatomy), Callie Torres (Grey’s Anatomy) (+ Sara Ramirez, the they/she icon we all deserve), Kara Danvers (Supergirl), Charles Boyle (Brooklyn 99), Alina Starkov (Shadow and Bone), Janet (Not a Girl) (The Good Place), Penelope Garcia (Criminal Minds).

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Implied Racism.

LINKS: Pinterest. Playlist (Coming Soon).

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

I N T R O

full name ➵ Emmeline Huan Vance

nicknames ➵ Emmy; Emma; Line; Em; Melly; Melsy; Vance; Hurricane

pronouns ➵ she/they/her/them

birthdate / age ➵ October 24th, 1959, 09:47 am / 20 years old

birthplace ➵ Brighton, East Sussex

childhood home ➵ Unknown home in Brighton, East Sussex — 162 Orchard Croft, Harlow, Essex

current residence ➵ Hogwarts, Scotland

religion ➵ agnostic; paternal grandparents were Methodist ( Protestant ) while maternal grandparents were also Christian

occupation ➵ full - time student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

P H Y S I C A L

height ➵ 5 feet, 2 inches / 157.5 cm

weight ➵ 48 kg / 106lb

body type ➵ hourglass shaped figure

hair ➵ dark brown, bordering on black; soft and wavy

eye color ➵ dark brown

dominant hand ➵ right

FC ➵ Jessie Mei Li

voice ➵ Jessie Mei Li

special characteristics ➵

small waist

has a birthmark on her right ankle that looks like an apple

pierced septum

smells of ➵

lavender hand lotion

pomegranate

cardamom, jasmine and orange blossom perfume

E M O T I O N A L

zodiac ➵ scorpio sun (x); sagittarius rising; cancer moon

MBTI ➵ ISFJ (“The Defender”)

positive traits ➵ industrious; compassionate; generous; warmhearted; benevolent; selfless; observant; honest; personable; kind.

negative traits ➵ blunt; graceless; meticulous; well-meaning; impatient; internalizes feelings; oversensitive; tactless; overbearing; clumsy.

likes ➵ Pumpkin pasties; duelling club; laughter; the rush of incoming patients; cooking for friends; Ballycastle Bats; Diagon Alley; being barefoot at the beach; roadtrips; apple juice; hugs from friends; nicknames; vanilla candles; the heat of a boiling cauldron; Sugar Quills; warm sweaters; pizza; pomegranate seeds; cheek kisses; taking photographs; finishing essays early; coffee with milk and two sugars; Queen; Aston Villa; cats

dislikes ➵ spam (the food); apparition; the Daily Prophet; starless nights; Kenmare Kestrels; karaoke; losing bets; skinned knees; snakes; pigeons; the colour fuschia (it’s too bright); ticking clocks; banana flavouring; funerals; Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans; Celestina Warbeck; mayonnaise; blue M&Ms; her lao ye; the word mudblood; leprechauns; fans of Kenmare Kestrels; losing football matches; witch Halloween costumes; rugby

amortentia ➵

birthday cake

fresh mint

old books

orange blossom

M A G I C

blood status ➵ muggleborn

wand ➵ Aspen, dragon heartstring core, 8 inches, hard

wand-quality aspen wood is white and fine-grained, and highly prized by all wand-makers for its stylish resemblance to ivory and its usually outstanding charmwork. The proper owner of the aspen wand is often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand is one of those particularly suited to martial magic. An infamous and secretive eighteenth-century duelling club, which called itself The Silver Spears, was reputed to admit only those who owned aspen wands. In my experience, aspen wand owners are generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders; this is a wand for revolutionaries.

patronus ➵ Hippo

E D U C A T I O N

Hogwarts class ➵ Hufflepuff, 1981

extracurriculars ➵

Hufflepuff Prefect / September 1979 - June 1981

Herbology Club & Greenhouse Keepers / September 1977 - June 1981

Toothill Duelling Club / September 1979 - June 1981

Wenlock Study Club / September 1979 - June 1981

courses & exams ➵

Ancient Runes - O

Astronomy - E

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

History of Magic - O

Muggle Studies - O

Potions - O

Transfiguration - O

Care of Magical Creatures - E

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

health ➵

walnut allergy

hayfever

pets ➵

Jíngyi; the long-eared owl

Shu; the white cat

handwriting ➵ Abuget

F A M I L Y

Deirdre (née Wilkinson) Vance ➵ paternal grandmother; retired nurse; deceased May. 1980

Edward Vance ➵ grandfather; retired soldier and miner; deceased Jan. 1980

Xiulan Wong ( Wong Xiulan ) ➵ maternal grandmother (lao lao); homeschooled; housewife; alive

Da Wong ( Wong Da ) ➵ maternal grandfather (lao ye); homeschooled; shop-owner; alive

Dr. Cillian Vance ➵ father; worked for/with the Red Cross UK (and the Hong Kong Red Cross); alive

Mei (née Wong) Vance ➵ mother; teaching assistant; alive

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌

emmeline had always known they were different. at first, it was because of her skin, the way she looked and spoke and could never find anyone to play with on the playground, her chinese middle name and her lao lao being the one to pick her up from school every morning. she would cry to her mother at night, cling to her arms like they were the port keeping her safe from the storm, and listen to her father sing, voice warm and tender as she drifted to sleep, but she never got the answers for why she was treated differently — never got answers for why she was the only non-white child in her school, never got answers for why they hated her so much, hated her existence. but she weathered through primary school, finding her footing in secondary school with her only friend, aisha, who never cared that she was different, that sometimes she could do things that nobody else seemed able to do, that she’d been encouraged to always tell the truth, nothing but the truth, that sometimes she’d say things that hurt, things that stung even though she never meant for them to.

for a while, the feeling of being wholly different faded, or at least, emmeline didn’t notice it quite so prominently anymore, and then suddenly it appeared again — but this time it had been because she didn’t know if she always felt like a girl. not a girl in the traditional sense, anyway, not some days. she liked dresses and fancy heeled shoes and tiaras, but found herself equally at home in plaid shirts and her father’s way-too-big suit jacket and kicking around a football, and for a half-asian barely a teenage… person (she’s still working on it), suspended constantly between two identities, it confused them (even though they’re perfectly aware now that those things are superficial, but the feeling still remains). the only person they ever talked to about it back then was aisha — their lifeline, their best friend, the one their parents reluctantly approved of because they had been so lonely for so long. while aisha was crushing on boys, sweaty and loud and just this side of too teasing, and starting to wear makeup and changing herself, emmeline was trying to find where she fit in, trying to understand who she was, who she is, why they feel so different.

in the midst of all that, emmeline’s letter to hogwarts came. just another difference for emmeline to feel, the knowledge that they have magic was unexpected and tore her family in two. the family she loved - her mother, her father, her lao lao and lao ye, and granny and pops - all had differing opinions on whether or not to accept it, whether or not to send them to school and deal with the fact, up front, that emmeline was, and always would be, special. in the end, emmeline’s pops snuck her out, following instructions from a professor mcgonagall, to find diagon alley, the place where emmeline suddenly felt she fit in. she could feel the magic in the air, could feel it almost crackling in the space around her, almost inviting her in. of course, it took some time — a little too much time, really — to buy everything she needed, and when she cried into her ice cream on the way home, overwhelmed and tired and feeling so many things, he was the one who held her all the way home. 

he and their granny were the only ones there to send them off the hogwarts that first year, their parents reluctant to accept anything so unnatural about their child, but emmeline hardly cared at the time (even though it hit them later that night and they sobbed into their pillow), too excited to remember to even wave, too excited to remember to cry because she was leaving behind the only friend she’d ever truly known, and when they saw hogwarts, that castle appearing, they just knew. they were home. she knows, after years and years of being torn between two identities on so many different fronts, that people aren’y happy she’s here, happy she has magic, happy she calls this place her home away from home, that she laughs loud at the hufflepuff table and wears yellow and black face paint for quidditch matches and tried out for the muggle football team, but there’s nothing they can say to change who she is, her pride in the blood flowing through her veins, in the magic at her fingertips. emmeline’s always known they’re different, but having magic, being home at hogwarts, is the first time she’s ever felt proud to be so.

[maandags]

Eidolon (Angel!Keith x Demon!reader) {part v}

*goes into hiding for 23455 years*

– – –

Summary: Keith is an angel, and he’s completed mission after mission for the Upper Hand, the organisation controlling all of the Above. He’s only failed a mission once: when he was assigned to kill you, a surprisingly charismatic demon. He roamed Earth–Middle Ground–for years before he was caught by the Upper Hand again, and things quickly go south.

Genre: angst YEEEET

Word count: 6.2K

Notes: masterlist - {previous} - {next} -- me: *doesn't update for 67 years* *updates* *doesn't update for 67 ye

– – –

And when I fall to rise

with stardust in my eyes

In the backbone of night, I’m combustible

~ King of The Clouds, Panic! At The Disco

– – –

“I got you caramel popcorn.”

You look up from where you’re tying your boots and raise an eyebrow. “Beg your pardon?”

A plastic box filled with the sticky treats lands on the couch next to you. “Caramel popcorn. You like it, right?” Keith runs a hand through his hair and plops down too, giving a small wince. He’s trying very hard to hide the fact that he’s still feeling pretty beat up, but he’s not very good at it. Or maybe you’re just very skilled at reading him.

You cautiously take the box, pop off the lid and pluck one grain from its siblings. “I do like it.” With a flourish, you stick it in your mouth and smile at the sweet taste. “How’d you know?”

Keith looks down. “You probably mentioned it while I was… out.”

Your fingers, halfway down the box already, freeze. “Say what now?”

He shrugs stiffly, the shirt draped over his lanky frame only barely moving with him. He’s lost so much weight while he was sick, and it’s affected him more than he cares to show. He still tires easily, needs a lot of sleep. He gets nauseous faster, and gets dizzy when he stands up too abruptly. Over the past few days he’s been getting better, staying up with longer intervals between naps every time but he still isn’t quite back to normal.

And it’s bothering him. You can tell it’s bothering him. He tries to help you in any way he can, though those aren’t many. You’ve had him buy groceries a few times so you could come straight home from work–but that was often quite late in the evening, and you right now you’re just about to leave for work.

“I keep getting these flashes of memories that aren’t mine. And–well–you’re the only person I’ve talked to for about two weeks, so I figured they were yours.” He gives a nervous laugh. “Well, practically the only person. I’m guessing it wasn’t the grocer who leaked some of his memories into my brain.”

“No. ‘Cause that would be weird,” you say, carefully removing your hand from the popcorn and placing the bucket on the low coffee table in front of you. Suddenly you feel cold again.

“Look,” he starts, and you firmly keep your eyes on the bowl of popcorn, not wanting to meet his, “I don’t know what you did or who you went to for whatever it is that cured me. But I do know that you saved my life, and I’ll forever be in your debt for that.”

“Keith–”

“No, seriously. I don’t need to know everything. That’s completely fine. But I don’t want you to get hurt because you were trying to help me.” And he sounds so sincere, like he means every word, and you look away and purse your lips and tug at your shoelaces because he’s really not making things easy for you.

Whenever you think you finally have your thoughts out in a row, Keith swoops in and says a line like that one and makes everything foggy again. He could have drop-kicked you in the stomach and you would be less confused. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You wonder if he’s doing it on purpose–if he knows you’ve been tasked with a mission that’s nothing short of impossible.

Not impossible in the literal sense of the word. In fact, it would hardly be a challenge at all; Keith’s still weakened and even without your knives you could overpower him in half a second. No, the impossibility of the task lies in a more complicated and nuanced territory: your morals. Your feelings towards him, to be exact, and how much you can ignore them. If you even want to ignore them, and up til now that’s not looking very likely a possibility.

The portal pass Prince Lotor gave you sits untouched in a locked drawer in your nightstand. At night, when the only sound filling the air is the nightlife of the city, you can feel it pulsing beside you, beckoning to be used. It’s tempting you, whispering for your touch, begging to return home. As far as you know, portal passes don’t have expiration dates, but you’re still hoping that the call will eventually weaken until you don’t even notice it anymore.

No, giving Keith up to the Below isn’t an option. But he’s growing stronger every day, and at one point he’s going to leave. He’ll leave, and you won’t be there to protect him anymore, and that means he’ll be fair game for any Bounty out there who caught word of the prize his capture will grant.

And really, you just want him to stay.

You want him to stay because your life has been infinitely more interesting since he showed up. You want him to stay because you took care of him for a week while he was dying, and you’re the reason he’s here, alive, in the first place. You want him to stay because you’ve grown to like him–and because he understands you in a way no one else can.

“I’m not hurt,” you assure him. Your fingers ghost over his briefly before you pull them back to your lap. “I won’t get hurt. I promise.” He gives a tentative smile and you zip your hoodie up over your t-shirt. “Let’s focus first on getting you all healed up, all right?”

“I’m fine!”

“Keith, you tripped over your own shoelace and immediately knocked yourself out. You almost threw up after going out onto the rooftop.” You tug a soft hat over your ears and, after a small moment of hesitation, grab a last small handful of caramel popcorn and cradle them in your palm. They really are good. “I’ll be back this afternoon. If anything’s wrong, call. I might not pick up right away but I’ll call back.”

He sighs, tugs at a strand of dark hair. “Okay. Bye.”

You snatch up your keys and open the door. “Take a nap,” you smile over your shoulder. You don’t stay to see his reaction.

– – –

The day goes by as most work days go by, and you huff out a breath when you sink onto a chair around lunchtime. “I’m taking my break,” you tell Emmie–the real Emmie–and she nods. It had been pretty weird to see her and the others for the first time after the whole Bountyhunter fiasco. You were pretty sure none of them noticed how you stiffened when they’d greeted you first thing in the morning, and even if they had they would probably just think you had a rough day or something.

Your phone buzzes and you jump. Before picking up, you glance at the caller ID. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Oh, did I get it right? I always forget when you have your lunch break,” Allura says.

“You got it right. I’ve literally just sat down.”

“Fabulous. It’s the hospital, you know. Messes with your perception of time.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I wouldn’t know.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t.”

You shake your head, but a smile tugs at the ends of your lips. “Did you just want to chat or did you need anything?”

“Nah, I just wanted to chat. We haven’t talked in ages! And also you won’t tell me what you’re doing or what’s going on or who is staying in your apartment… you know. Breezy stuff.” Her tone is light, but you can tell she’s a little pissed at you for ghosting her, and you honestly can’t blame her.

“Allura… I’m really sorry about that. My life’s just been really messy for the last two weeks or so. I’m working on it, I promise.”

She sighs, and you imagine the way her lips purse as she glares out into the distance. “You know,” she says suddenly, “I think I’ve been a pretty good friend so far.”

It takes you aback, and you choke out a startled laugh. “You have been. I mean, you are. You’re the best.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what’s going on? Maybe I could help.”

You lick your lips, lightly kicking at an empty cardboard box on the floor. “It’s hard to explain. I–it’s–it’s complicated.”

“Right.”

“Listen, I want to explain it. I do. You deserve to know what’s going on, but… I’m afraid of what you’ll think if I do tell you. And I’m afraid–” You only just manage to cut yourself off and swallow the words about to tip from your tongue. You let your head fall back. “Okay. What if we meet up tonight? After work? And I’ll explain what I can, okay?”

She’s silent for a moment, then says, “Fine. Okay.”

Silently, you let out a breath you’d been holding. “All right. Uh, how about the park? Let’s say half past eight?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You switch your phone to your other ear. “So, uh, see you then? I guess?”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye,” you say, but she’s already hung up. You growl, squeezing your eyes shut and raking a hand through your hair before rubbing your temples. “Fuck.”

Is this whole ordeal worth jeopardising your friendship with Allura? No. But then again, how much of a choice do you really have? What are you going to tell her? Oh yeah, I’m actually demon, and I kind of saved an angel that I then later learned is on the lam so now I’m harboring a fugitive. It just doesn’t ring very well.

But you’re going to have to tell her something. She’s starting to get suspicious–she has every reason to. Maybe you’ll just have to improvise a bit.

A glance at your watch tells you that your break ends in ten minutes, and you haven’t even had your lunch yet. You stand up and make your way to the snack dispenser, logging in a coin and, with a fair amount of shaking and punching the already-battered sides of the machine, plucking out a pack of raisins and a chocolate granola bar. Not much of a lunch, but oh well. Keith would have your head if he knew these were your only nutrients of the day.

Then you shake your head and frown. Since when do you care what Keith thinks?

As you nibble on the granola bar, you contemplate your phone that you laid on the coffee table in front of you. Part of you wants to call your home phone. Just to see how Keith’s doing. What he’s been up to (in the whole five hours that you haven’t seen him). Stupid, you tell yourself. Stop it. He’s fine. He’s a grown angel, for Hell’s sake. He can take care of himself.

Really, you just want to hear his voice. It’s comforting. He has a nice voice.

But you mentally scold yourself. Just because you decided you won’t turn him in doesn’t give you an excuse to get all cuddly with him. So you lick the last of the chocolate from your fingers, straighten your blue work shirt and stuff your phone in your back pocket. Tony allows phones in pockets as long as they’re switched off, so you make sure you do just that before you push the door open and resume your shift.

“Keith?” You shout his name before you even properly entered your apartment, and you’re greeted with an irritated hum from where he’s half passed out on the sofa. “Have you just been sleeping the entire day?”

“Hm.”

“Good for you. Wish I could get more than four hours’ sleep a night.”

He cracks open an eye. “You only get four hours’ sleep a night?” Oh. Not as unconscious as you thought.

“No, no,” you quickly lie, “nah, I was exaggerating. I get plenty of sleep. Don’t worry.” You kick off your shoes and drop your keys in their little box. “But you sleeping is good. It means you’ll feel better soon.”

“Hey, hey,” he says, suppressing a yawn and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “don’t change the subject.”

“Keith. I told you I’m fine. Drop it.”

“No.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He looks at you, squinting with fatigue, but his eyes are determined and glint. “You look like crap. You’ve been working your ass off when you look like you can barely stand on your feet. I didn’t want to say anything because–well–I figured it wasn’t my place to tell you you should rest,” he adds, a bit awkwardly, but voice still firm.

“It’s not,” you say, eyebrow still raised and feeling your shoulders stiffen with ever word falling from his lips.

“But you should. Rest, I mean. I don’t know why you won’t take care of yourself, but I don’t want–” He catches himself before the end of his sentence, and when you narrow your eyes you think you can spot a faint blush dotting his cheeks. “Anyway. Just… be careful, okay?”

“Sure.” For some reason, it’s easier to be curt when he’s worrying about you instead of the other way around. Though you don’t think you’ll actually stop being worried about him until he’s a hundred percent back to normal, but him reaching out and voicing his concerns about you has your emotional walls immediately shoot up.

Up until now, you hadn’t realised how much you’d started to let them down.

You grab a cup and fill it with water, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen as you gulp it down. Keith’s gaze is still fixed on you, and you pointedly direct yours at the floor.

“Y/N–”

“Keith. Drop it. Seriously.” You set the empty cup down on the kitchen table, maybe a bit more forcefully than necessary. “I’m actually going out tonight.”

He frowns, and again there’s that flash of concern that has you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m just meeting up with a friend. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but you don’t have to wait up for me if you want to go to sleep early. God,” you add with a scoff when he purses his lips, “don’t look so disapproving. What are you, my dad?”

“Y/N–”

“I’m going out.” Your voice is quiet but icy, and you can see Keith knows he won’t change your mind.

He closes his eyes briefly. “At least eat something before you go.”

“I’ll get takeout on the way or something.” You turn on your heel and, after a split second of internal debate you pull your scarf from its place on the coat hanger and wrap it around your face. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

You don’t even wait to hear his answer.

Allura’s waiting for you on your bench, her purple scarf pulled around her cheeks and her hair piled atop her head in a bun. She looks up when you approach, then shifts a little to the side to make room for you. Her eyes are narrowed, though you suspect that’s due more to a mix of fatigue and a protection against the cold wind than it is anger against you.

“Hey,” you say, sinking onto the bench next to her.

“Hi.” She crosses her ankles and looks away briefly before focusing her gaze on you again. Her brows furrow slightly. “What happened to you?”

You freeze. “What?”

“I mean, why do you look like that?”

A hesitant laugh rolls past your lips. “Like what?”

“Like you haven’t slept, eaten, or seen sunlight in a week. No, don’t even–hey, look at me.” She grabs your wrists and forces you to look her in the eye. With every second she scrutinises your face the worry in hers grows, and she reaches out to tentatively touch the tender skin beneath your eyes. “Have you been overworking yourself?”

“No,” you say, deflated, though it comes out more like a whine.

“How much sleep have you been getting a night?”

“Allura, stop it. I feel fine.” It’s a lie, and she doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t need you fretting over me as well.”

She leans back. “What do you mean, as well?” Her lips purse and she takes your hands in hers. “Y/N, what is going on?”

You sigh, cursing yourself and this entire situation internally. You have to think very carefully about what you’re going to say and how you’re going to say it. You bite your lip, and after a moment of silence you say, “Remember when I called you a while ago about that fever?”

She nods slowly. “And I told you to sweat it out, and you said that wouldn’t work, so I told you to go find my uncle.”

“Right. Well, I did,” you sigh, thinking back to the strange excursion that was the trip by Coran’s shop.

“And did you find what you were looking for?”

“I did.” She raises an eyebrow, rolling her hand in a Go on gesture. You exhale, fumbling with the words in your mind before speaking them out loud. “It wasn’t for research purposes. I needed it because… a friend of mine–well, he’s more like an acquaintance, really–was very sick. And no, I couldn’t take him to the hospital,” you add quickly when she opens her mouth to say something.

She frowns. “Why not?”

You cringe slightly. For some reason, you don’t think He’s not human is going to cut it. “I just couldn’t, okay? Please just–just trust me on this. Listen,” you say, lowering your head into your hands, “there’s some things I really can’t tell you. I just can’t. But I’m trying my best.” Your voice catches and you’re surprised to find your eyes sting. You angrily wipe the forming tears away.

“I’ve known him for a while,” you continue. “But we never really… talked before. Because we come from… different places.” What a way to simplify it.

“So he’s, like… some kind of famous, rich, bourgeois-esque guy? Is that what I’m picking up here?” She’s trying to lighten the mood, you know she is, but the laugh you manage to grit out is bitter anyway.

“That’s one way to put it.”

It’s silent for a while, and the tension that cloaked the air before starts to fade. Allura can be quite hot-headed sometimes, but she doesn’t always manage to stay angry for long–though in this case, she would have every reason to. You’ve been avoiding her, even if you had a good reason.

Then she sighs. “I’m trying to understand, Y/N.” You glance at her, keep your mouth shut. “But it’s hard. And I’m not sure if this is just you being your mystical self, or if there’s something really weird going on, but I don’t like it. At all. Not if this is how it makes you act and feel.” Again she shoots a pointed look at your face. “But you’re asking me to trust you, so that’s what I’ll do.”

Your eyes, that narrowed as you looked down at the ground, snap open and you turn your head around fully to look at her. “Seriously?”

She nods. “Yeah. Seriously. And I don’t like it,” she repeats, shifting to sit on her hands and glaring out into the darkening evening streets, “but I trust you to not do anything stupid. Or, well, anything very stupid.”

And it makes you feel good. A huge weight seems to fall off your shoulders and you breathe a relieved sigh. “Thanks, Allura.”

“Well.” She sits up straight and hooks an arm over the back of the bench, turning fully to you, her mouth curling into a wicked grin. “Now that we worked that out, you’re going to tell me about this guy, because I want to know who you’re risking our friendship for, God damn it.”

Your head tips back. “Allura. Please. Don’t.”

“Nuh-uh-uh,” she tuts. “None of that. You owe me this. Fine, I’ll start easy. What’s his name?”

You slowly roll your head until you’re looking her in the eye. “Keith.”

She nods, grin turning smug. “Where’s he from?”

You flinch. “…Somewhere up north.”

“Ah. Touchy subject?”

“Eh.”

“Fine,” she huffs, “then answer this one. Why would he come to you now if you’ve never even spoken before? You made it sound like he was in serious trouble.”

“He was. And, well… I guess he came to me because he had nowhere else to go.”

Allura hums. Then, “You sound like you care about him.”

You start. “What?”

“You know. You took him into your apartment, you stayed home from work for a week to take care of him, you almost fucked up our friendship for him… that’s not just because you felt sorry for him.” She says it so breezily, the words more a joke by now than anything, but you still wish she hadn’t said them–if only because they ring so true.

“I barely know him,” you protest weakly.

“But you want to. Get to know him, I mean.”

“Fuck, Allura, I wanted to talk, not for you to tell me how to lead my love life,” you groan, sliding along the backrest.

She wiggles her eyebrows. ‘Who said anything about love?”

“Oh my god.” You jump up, dusting off your coat and giving your scarf a vigorous tug. “I’m gonna go now. Again, the coming days–weeks, maybe, I don’t fucking know–might be weird. There’s a bunch of stuff Keith and I need to sort out. I’ll call you eventually, but it might be smart if you kind of stayed out of it? I’d appreciate that. As a personal favour.”

“Uh, sure,” she says, looking equally taken aback and somewhat smug by your sudden flustered and rambly state. “Why’s that?”

“You know. I was already manipulated into thinking you were being tortured to get information out of me, so. I’d rather that doesn’t happen again. You know what, just pretend you don’t know me until I call you, all right?”

She freezes for only a fraction of a second, then scrambles up and grabs your sleeve.“Say what now?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

“That absolutely is a big fucking deal, Y/N.”

“Figures. I’m really sorry you got sucked into this mess, Allura. You deserve better friends than me.”

Her lips purse, and before you know what’s happening she’s pulled you into a hug. “Please be careful,” she whispers into your shoulder.

You wrap your own arms around her and squeeze. “I’ll try.” Welcome to my shitstorm of a life, you think wryly, then you gently free yourself from her embrace. “I’ll call you when this is all over.”

She nods, and you’re about to walk back to your apartment when something occurs to you. You spin around again, mindlessly rubbing your forearm. “Hey, one last thing.”

“Yeah?”

You bite your lip, hesitate. “Your uncle Coran. He might be able to answer some of your questions. He’s… a special guy. I think he knows more than he lets on.”

Allura gives a small smile, then nods. “I’ll think about it.”

Your living room windows are dark, and that should have been enough to make you suspicious. Keith doesn’t put out the lights until you’re home.

But your mind is still occupied with everything you told–and didn’t tell–Allura, and you’re just feeling good that everything went the way it did. You won’t have to worry about her getting hurt anymore, and the light feeling of maybe everything will be okay after all is the reason you don’t notice anything’s wrong until you turn the keys and open the door to be greeted with darkness.

You freeze. “Keith?” No answer.

Slowly, you flick on the light switch beside you, blinking hard to force your eyes to quickly get used to the light. Nothing. The sofa looks eerily clean and made up. The blanket you gave him sits neatly folded on one armrest. Your heart speeds up, and you make your way over to the kitchen. The fridge’s contents have been rearranged. The tub of caramel popcorn is in the cabinet where you keep your sweets. He’d put it there before leaving. It’s a small gesture, but one so sweet and innocent and final that it makes a fist clench over your heart.

Somehow you sense that this is it; he’s not coming back. This isn’t one of his impromptu errands. He cleaned up after himself, made sure everything looked exactly the way it did before he even set foot in your apartment.

But it doesn’t feel right anymore. It’s empty.

Keith was never much of a presence. He wasn’t loud or brash or in constant need of attention, but he would quietly come sit in the armchair next to you when you were reading on the sofa, or he’d join you at the kitchen table and doodle on a notepad, one foot tucked under his butt and the very tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips. His company made your apartment feel that little more alive.

Made you feel that little more alive.

And it’s not that you can’t handle yourself on your own. You can do that just fine. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy having him in your home. Another presence like you, to remind you that you’re not alone.

And it just feels weird. Why would he leave so suddenly? Without even giving you a warning? Without saying goodbye? It doesn’t make sense, and you sink down onto the sofa, fingers absentmindedly trailing over the fuzzy blanket. The room’s too clean for him to have been kidnapped or murdered; that would have looked way messier than this. No, he went by choice.

It’s late. It’s late, it’s dark, and if Keith really doesn’t want to see you again you don’t stand the slightest chance to find him in the nightly streets.

And yet, half a minute later you find yourself–all the while cursing and scoffing at yourself under your breath–outside once more, narrowing your eyes against the chilly evening wind. You hesitate for a moment, not quite sure of where to go, then you decide to just make your way to the nearest underground station and figure out where you’re headed from there. Keith knows this city, but you know it better.

So that’s how you end up in the underground at half past ten P.M, brain working at a thousand miles per hour, looking for a runaway angel that you know you have a very slim chance of finding. The cart is surprisingly crowded, and you have to crane your neck to find an unoccupied seat. You plop down beside a reading student.

The grind of the track below you makes it hard to think, so you let your head tip against the backrest of the seat and close your eyes with a sigh. A hand comes up to rub your eyelids. “What am I doing,” you whisper to yourself. The student casts you a half-curious look, but wisely doesn’t say anything.

If Keith doesn’t want to be found you doubt you’ll find him–but what if someone else does? What if someone who knows about the price Lotor fixed on Keith’s head finds him and recognises him? He’s in no shape to fight. He can barely stand upright for more than half an hour. He’ll be handed over to the Below, and then… You don’t want to think about what might happen next.

So you have to find him. You don’t know where to start, don’t know if you even can, but you have to at least try.

Your gaze flicks up to the screen where the route is all stippled out. You’re almost halfway, with four more stops to go until the final destination. None of them ring any bells at first, but then one catches your eye. You bite your lip, leaning slightly forward.

It could be. It would make sense.

You could be wrong, of course. But there’s a feeling in your gut. You’re jittery and fidgeting with the buttons on your coat and when the train slowly stops to a halt you’re the first through the doors. Your destination is clear in your head and you round corners without looking, confident that your feet will carry you where you want to go. After all, you’ve walked this route more times than you can count.

The factory is as silent and still as it was the first time you slipped through its broken gates and between its walls. You can hear faint voices coming from a room on the ground floor; laughter, music, chattering. Probably just a private friend get-together. Keith won’t be there.

It feels weird to retrace your steps from that night. The room where your painting still gleams proudly against so many others–an angel and a demon, red wings dripping from their backs. The painting makes your gut twist in a funny way, so you don’t stay very long admiring it. Then there’s the hole in the wall behind it leading to the staircase. You hop through, start climbing the steps at a leisurely pace, keeping as quiet as possible.

Only then do you start to think about what might happen if you do find him.

Up until now, you had only thought about the possibility of not finding him. But what if you do, and he explains why he left and tells you to go away? Or what if he doesn’t want to talk to you at all? Would you be able to let him go that easily?

You almost stop and turn back. Almost. But there’s something about him. Something about him that makes you feel a certain way, and you’d tried to push it down and ignore it but you don’t think you can do that anymore. And with every step you take your heart beats faster until you’re running the last feet up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

You half expect to see him as soon as you walk through the doorway, but of course that doesn’t happen. You slow to a halt, unsure of where to go first. You take a step forward, and the hollow sound echoes in the hallway. You clear your throat before calling out. “Keith?”

Maybe not the smartest move if you were going for discretion, but you threw caution into the wind when you stepped onto the dark top floor. He’ll be here or he won’t, and you’ll figure out what to do then.

Another step, and you peek through the first doorway. “Hello? Keith?” Nothing. You steel yourself. You’ll go by all the rooms. You won’t leave until you’ve combed through the entire floor.

And then you hear him softly say your name behind you, and you whip around. He’s leaning against a doorway, a faint smile tainting his lips, sweet and genuine but a little sad, too, and all you want to do is run to him and wrap him in your arms and press your lips against his–

But you don’t. “Keith. Hey.”

“Hi.”

You’d wanted to be a little less forward, but just the relief of seeing him caused your verbal filter to completely disappear. You step towards him, your hand reaching for him despite him standing too far away. “Why are you here?”

He raises a brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“What–I came to find you, obviously,” you scoff, the words coming out sharper than intended. You screw your eyes shut, your shoulders bunching around your ears. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m just–I’m glad I found you. I was worried.”

He looks down, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Right.”

You bite your lip. “Keith.” His eyes meet yours, and you hesitantly close the distance between you until he’s a mere step away. “Why’d you leave?”

A shrug. “Don’t know.”

“Don’t believe you.”

He sighs. “I just–I feel like I’m being a burden. You’re looking more tired and sick every day and I’m just so useless.”

You start, recoiling slightly out of pure shock. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve noticed it, you know.” His jaw sets and his eyes grow cloudy. “How you try and leave the room every time I’m there. Or how you work overtime to make sure you have to spend as little time with me as possible. Or how every smile you give me is forced. They never quite reach your eyes.” His fingers twitch. “But I don’t blame you. I get it.”

You throw a look over his shoulder. The room he chose is empty bar a filthy pillow that looks like it came straight out of the trash and a blanket in the same state. “So you’ll just live here instead.” You kick an old, empty beer can out of the way. “Real homey.”

He shrugs again. Then he shivers, and it’s that small gesture that completely shatters you. Tears form in your eyes. “You wanna know why I did it? Pushed you away?” You don’t wait for an answer. “Because I actually like you way more than I should. And I was scared of what would happen if I let myself get close to you. I still am. But,” you add, nudging his arm, “that doesn’t mean I want you gone or living in a dump like this.”

“So you came to look for me.”

“Yeah.”

Now he smiles, rubbing his eyes. “You found me pretty quickly. That’s rather embarrassing.” With a sigh, he lets himself drop to the floor and props his elbows up on his knees. “Can’t even run away right.”

You scoff, sliding down the wall next to him. “Don’t sound so disappointed. I, for one, am glad I found you.”

His fingers ghost over yours. “Me too.”

And it might just be that you’re very tired because you’ve been on your feet since six A.M, or that you’re so happy and relieved to see him in one piece after running through all the possible horrible scenarios in your head. Whatever the case, you figure that if it isn’t clear now that he’s more to you than just an inconvenient guest, it might never be, so it wouldn’t mean anything if you were to take his hand in yours.

So you take his hand in yours. He stiffens for only a split second, then relaxes. After a while, he whispers, “How’d you know I was here?”

You hollow out your cheeks. “I didn’t. I wasn’t sure, I mean. But… I don’t know. I had a feeling, I guess.” You shoot him a pointed look. “You’re not gonna get sick again, are you? Last time we were here you almost died. I’d like to not have to try and find Coran’s shop again, ‘cause that was a complete disaster last time.”

Keith giggles. “I wasn’t planning to.”

You shove his shoulder with yours. “Moron. Don’t scare me like that again, all right?” The insult is kind of cancelled out by the fact that you’re still holding hands.

“Okay.” He bursts into a coughing fit and you throw him a sideways look, letting go of his hand to awkwardly pat him on the back.

“This is exactly why you need to come home,” you scold softly. “You’re not better yet. Come on.”

He casts you a look, hesitancy painted across his features. You raise your eyebrows slightly. “What?”

But then he shakes his head and pushes himself up again, holding his hand out for you to grab. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

You take it and let him pull you up, and then you’re face to face. Close. Closer than ever before. For a second you’re just standing, holding onto each other’s hands like it’s the only thing tethering you to earth. You want to kiss him. You want to kiss him. Your eyes flick down to his lips, ever so briefly. You want to kiss him.

“Let’s go.” Pulling your hand out of his feels so wrong, but you do it anyway. Reluctantly. You shove your hand in the pocket of your hoodie to hide its trembling. “We’ll take the underground.”

The ride back is not awkward. You wouldn’t call it that, but there is a kind of tension hanging in the air between you and him and you decide that you don’t like it. Another part of you whispers that it’s probably for the better. The tension means you won’t make any rash decisions. It means that you’ll think about the words you say and the things you do, important or not.

Maybe it won’t make a difference in the end. Maybe it will. At the moment it doesn’t really matter, because it’s late and Keith is half asleep in his seat, and you only allow yourself a brief moment to look at him–really look at him, study the little details of his face that would normally be clouded by lines of worry or fatigue. When he sleeps he looks so peaceful, without a care in the word. His skin smooths out. His mouth hangs open ever so slightly. He snores a little. He looks younger and, somehow, free.

But then your stop is announced over the loudspeakers and you startle as the train slowly grinds to a halt. You nudge Keith with your foot. “Wake up.” He groans, blinks a few times before hoisting himself up, softly muttering under his breath.

Your apartment looks exactly as you left it–which is to say, eerily clean and tidy. You pull a face and immediately march over to the sofa, where you shake out the neatly folded blanket and deposit it on a heap in a corner, after which you give the cushions a good shake. Keith stands in the corner of the room, hands in his pockets, a bemused smile on his lips. You crinkle your nose at him. “It felt too… orderly.”

“Because you’re not orderly.”

“That’s right. It didn’t feel like home. Like some unwanted cleaning lady came in and reorganised my entire apartment. I hated it.”

“So you’re mad at me for trying to tidy up your house?”

You roll your eyes. “Not mad. Not about that. If anything, I’m mad because you fucking ran away, but that’s forgiven and forgotten. Look, I’ve made your bed.” You point at the rumpled sofa and try to hide your mounting grin.

Keith shakes his head, laughs, and it’s a sound you will never grow tired of. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

There’s a silence, but this time it’s not awkward in the slightest. The tension’s still there, but along with it is a kind of quiet understanding. A little sad, maybe. A little longing. But it’s something you’ve both accepted as impossible, and at the moment, that’s okay.

Because he’s back. And he’s okay. And really, that’s all that matters.

[bleumingbrie]

introduction: bleumingbrie

d e b r i e f / h i h i !

hi! its me brie once again! lol i’ve prolly done around 3 introduction posts on this blog since i’m so indecisive about what this blog should be and i’m probably taking this stuff too seriously but i think i finally figured it out. my blog has been centered around studying since i am a studyblr but i want to expand on that. so, i guess if you’re only looking for a mainly focused studyblr, i’m prolly not your gal anymore, but i just want to spread happiness and warm messages such as advice about life or motivation. i still want to post studyblr content but i don’t want to feel like its not right to post other content such as like advice about dealing with difficult times or just random posts about how my day is going and how we should really appreciate the small things in life more. ahh i feel like i’m being so dramatic but tbh i just want to be that helping hand when somebody needs it.  so here i am haha welp here’s my actual intro now:

a b o u t   m e :

i’m going by brie on here because its the perfect code name cuz i’m a spy and i need to protect my identity (lol jk i wish) i just want to keep my personal identity private so call me brie :D

i’m from the U.S. or more specifically texas yeehaw

i am currently 16 and a sophomore in high school/grade 10

my zodiac sign is an aries

i am an enfj and a type 2 (enneagram) p.s i hope i spelled that right oof

i love mainly all types of music but i love songs that are calm and make me want to sway lol like aphrodite by rini or a keshi song

i have many hobbies but some include: reading, drawing, journaling, listening to music, watching anime, writing letters/stories, and etc. 

i could talk way more about myself but i should start working on some homework so i’m going to wrap things up quickly 

e t c : 

remainder: you all should stay hydrated and healthy during these times especially since we have time on our hands during quarantine!! 

also, feel free to send me a message or ask if you’d like to become friends or are in need of advice or just want to ask me something i guess lol

ooh yeah, my main quote or little motto for life is: don’t just exist, live and i want that to be a friendly remainder for everyone reading this, it’s never too late to change :)) 

okay and here are some people who motivate me: @elliotstudies @cheruib @lebleurenard @lovelysuggestions @minttea-studies @mini-emmie @studybuddiesareoverrated @sprouting-studies @tbhstudying @studylustre @rylie-studies @thekingsstudy @thomastudies @onlypooh @auesten @depressed-student @procrastinatae @sunnyside-studies @flowerais @fawnluvr , and many more!! 

anyways, i’m signing out for now but i hope that your day/night treats you kindly, stay hydrated and keep on doing your thing! you gots this! 

                                                                 love, brie 

[blurays]

.

i dont constantly look anymore but its been exactly 17 months n 1 wk since the start of this idk median survival is 15 months so look at me go i guess 

if i was still on chemo id be finishing in a few days

i know im not supposed to think about it all the time or people dont want me to but whenever i dont for a while it just freaks me out like im not worrying about it Enough

i feel like im supposed to have some sense of profound gratefulness like oh every day is a blessing now but idk i dont and it just feels like things are getting More unfair which like. poor emmy shes always whining abt smth ik but yeah the hip thing has felt just, profoundly unfair

like ever since this started it’s been: a few months of steroids/er visits -> brain surgery -> rehab -> full round of chemotherapy and radiation -> 10 rounds of chemo while walking on a broken leg -> total hip replacement -> physical therapy that started out so hard that i would scream when they lifted my leg

like. 17 months but this is like the start of me not being physically hurt and sick and even then its not like i feel great i still ache all the time and im limping and its gonna take me like 3 months to recover from this and thats not even having my other hip fixed...

idk its just like ive probably said this before but everythings abt like extending my life not quality of life i havent had Any quality of life at all for 17 months so yay i made it past 15 but for what and i do hope it gets better but idk its just really fucking sucked for a year and a half and i feel like no one Gets it i mean some people do obviously a lot of people are really kind but idk people just expect me to be like . a normal human being which is yeah i dont get a free pass i know but like its hard i feel like its not even worth trying anymore bc even ppl who do know have so little sympathy lol its like . idk sometimes i get mad like no one shld get a pass for being abusive or smth but the way ppl r like accommodate x disorder but for me its like nope u have to learn to act like us even tho everythings different for u on every possible level

ppl think they know what its like like obviously some people know or relate to parts etc but ive hd multiple ppl be like well we could all die at any minute and its like... fuck off it’s different when your life revolves around it. when ur on some weird vague countdown at all times and everything in your life is abt trying to push it back a little like wtf am i supposed to do w that

ok anyway... who knows.. wnted to write smething long and weird xx

[luckersnwalsh]

✦ –– / J U L I E T T E | W A L S H . ˚ ⁎ * ·

✦ –– /  f a c t s ;

name: juliette walsh age: thirty two gender: cis female pronouns: she/her sexuality: lesbian place of residence: brooklyn, nyc occupation: paralegal face: emmy rossum zodiac: capricorn ennegram: tba temperament: melancholic

tw; brief mention of drugs

✦ –– /  h i s t o r y ;

i. born in cork, ireland. father never stuck around. already had a second family by the time jules was six, a third when jules was nineteen. not that she cared too greatly. dad was an absolute loser with several speeding convictions and anger management issues so no big loss. the financial loss was certainly felt, however. mum worked three jobs to keep food on the table. the two were inseparable and despite her mother’s misgivings, they still are to this day.  maybe thats why jules takes ‘independent living’ a little too far nowadays.

ii. in primary school, jules was quickly labelled as a ‘problem child’.  her mother thought she was doing what was best for jules by not pushing for a diagnosis in autism, let’s just say it kinda fucked jules up even more. with a high IQ and a low EQ, most people assumed jules had some sort of savant syndrome. top 3% in the country! aren’t you proud? i have no friends, though. oh you’re just mature for your age. focusing on better things! the pressure mounted, her relationships non-existent and jules found herself closed off from the world, nose forever stuck in a revision book. 

iii. these problems follow her throughout her educational career. eventually she hit a burnout in her first year of sixth form college after trying to juggle too many subjects at once. that brainy maths whizz of a girl ended up going from an A+ to an E in less than a year. every subject failed in the most spectacular of manners. the gifted child suddenly wasn’t so gifted anymore, and it only fueled her resentment towards her teachers who pushed her to take on so much in the first place. there was, however, one shining light. law. the only subject she passed in her first year. the one subject she rebuilt her entire course to fit around when she applied to retake her college classes. 

iv. jules was destined to get a degree. after all, her mother never managed to get one, so jules had to go to university. freshers was... an Event, to say the least. the discovery of alcohol, marijuana and roommates who she had to force herself to interact with certainly morphed jules into quite the temporary wild child. it didn’t last long though. jules learnt the hard way that it doesn’t matter how hard you change yourself for your ‘friends’, you’ll never be good enough for them. by the start of her second year, jules was living on her own in a crappy one bedroom apartment with two cats. needless to say, this suited her much better. (still lights up on occasion though, oops)

v. half way through university, offered a placement in a new york firm as part of an exchange program. change is difficult for jules, but her ambition overcame her nerves. she had no attachments keeping her locked in at home, and with her mothers (unquestioned) blessing, jules hopped on to a plane with two furry passengers in hand.

vi. it’s difficult to find a job in new york when you’re foreign, young, female and don’t have any connections. and then there’s the issue that jules never wanted to be an actual solicitor, after all. no no no, that would require public speaking, keeping emotions in check, not swearing at the prosecution. for the most part jules worked as an intern to a small public defender firm. ( and then i need to talk to oaklynn mun before i fill the rest of this bc we need to work out details of this firm she eventually joins )

✦ –– /  e x t r a ;

juliette’s ideal is j u s t i c e. pretty obvious for the lawyer, but needs to be said. this ideal was present at a very young age, and coincided with her more... violent tendencies. juliette might be lawful, but she’s not exactly lawful good. for example, is there a kid who keeps pushing you off the slide so they can have multiple turns? don’t worry, jules will be waiting at the bottom to punch them the next time they come down. kid keeps hitting you during class? can’t hit you if jules bites off his arm. really, jules would’ve made a damn good vigilante, but sadly this isn’t that kind of story. 

jules comes off as quite stoic, a little bit cold and cynical. in her worst moments, she’s aggressive and like i said, can be pretty violent. since academia has been hard drilled into her since she was a bubby, she can tend to come of patronising and a little holier-than-thou.

get on her good side though and you find someone extremely logical and focused, and the most reliable person you can meet. generous and giving, jules is the type willing to give up her left leg if it meant someone could walk again. manage to make her smile and you’ll probably fall in love. whilst she keeps them hidden, she has a variety of special interests (in fact, she’s actually quite the nerd). unlock them all and you get a prize! (its her heart, you are now her best friend)).

her cats are called jasper and fred. yes i will eventually provide photos as they are models off my cats.

eventually there will be a pinterest and playlist here

[theaurorfileshq]

I G N A T I U S   Y A X L E Y  /  A U R O R   C O R P O R A L

AGE:  Thirty-Three

BADGE NUMBER: S14E59

BLOODSTATUS: Pureblood

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Trans Man, He/Him

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: Scottish accent, curse scar from fingertips of right hand to crook of elbow, great hair, always wears nail polish and poorly made friendship bracelets.

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+): Combative Magic, Memory Charms, Ability to Remain Detached from Cases

(-): Indecisiveness, Inability to Take Things Seriously, Just a Little Guy, Formerly Rich Heir

BACKGROUND:

Everything is simple, for a very long time, that’s just the way it is for people like him. Ignatius Yaxley learns this very early on. Families like theirs don’t have to worry about the sort of things others do. That’s what mum and dad teach, and that’s what he believes. Sometimes he wonders, though, if it’s normal to be afraid of your father, and feel closer to your nanny than your mother. He wonders if it’s normal for dinners to be silent, for parents to sleep in separate rooms.

(He learns from friends with surnames like Rosier and Dolohov, late at night in the Slytherin common room when no one else is listening, that his family isn’t so special in that regard.)

There’s a set path for people like him, so he follows it. He graduates with a handful of NEWTS, and a laissez faire attitude even other purebloods find annoying. He takes a job training as a hit wix in his father’s department, because what else would he do? And he ignores any of the doubts simmering in the corners of his mind that maybe he doesn’t want to become his father’s spitting image.

(Ignatius Yaxley is not a moron, no matter what anyone else might say. The whispers about what his parents were allegedly involved with, he knows what they mean. Doesn’t matter that they’re not in Azkaban, all that means is they were smart enough not to let themselves get caught. If he had to guess, he would’ve said the allegedly part need not apply. Now he’s certain.)

Sometimes, he thinks maybe he would’ve realized how royally fucked all of it is sooner if he hadn’t realized the other rather important thing about himself when he was so young, if he’d been on his mother’s path, instead of being told he could have his choice of spouse, a knowing smirk on his father’s lips. It almost makes him wish he waited longer to let his father have a son, maybe until after he was out in the world.

Because that’s when it happens. Not for him––no, he’s already been out of Hogwarts for years, made a name for himself in the Ministry as one of the best young hit wizards in the department––but for her. Travers. It’s a good surname, a pure one, but he doesn’t know her and she doesn’t know him, too young to have overlapped much at Hogwarts, when his parents tell him they’re having dinner with her family the following week, since he’s failed in his job of finding himself a wife, when he’d been too busy focusing on his actual job.

Ignatius Yaxley is engaged to Isabella Travers within the month, without ever having a conversation with her alone.

There’s a party to celebrate, and during it, he tries to change that, for both of their sake’s, the creeping fear that none of this is right, none of this is fair, becoming less creeping and more real every moment. He puts a hand on her arm, leans closer in the hopes no one else will overhear what he wants to say, and she flinches back, before he can even speak, eyes wide with a fear he’s seen before in his mother’s eyes. That moment, something in him breaks. Maybe not in the expected way, certainly not in the noble way, but all the same.

After that, he doesn’t try again.

Instead, Ignatius develops a habit. After work, he wanders the streets of London, and he goes into Muggle pubs. He orders a drink, he talks to no one, and he thinks. Thinks about what it might be like if he was strong enough to say no to all of this, or to try harder to be something different, or anything else but this. It’s his silent rule, think and drink and don’t talk to anyone else. Savor the feeling of no one watching. It works for a long time, until a stranger slides into the seat next to him one night and asks, “Are you a tourist? You look very out of place,” and he laughs a little too loudly, and answers the question, caught off guard in just the right way.

She keeps asking questions, and he keeps answering. It’s strange, because it’s not strange at all. It just feels normal, talking to her, doesn’t matter who he is, or who she is––she’s Sawyer, she’s his age, she’s a playwright, she’s a Muggle––it’s just the two of them, talking. First a few nights a week in that pub, then on weekends, too, then in the middle of the night, in her flat, in her bed.

It’s a strange to realize you’re in love with someone you’ve been taught all your life to hate.

He’s able to force both families into a long engagement, buys himself time to figure out what to do, but it always comes back to Sawyer. It’s longer than is fair before he tells her who is really is, tells her about the world she’s unaware of. He practices memory charms for weeks before, in case she reacts badly, in case she decides she doesn’t love him anymore after he tells her.

He tells her everything. She shrugs, and smiles, and tells him she’s pregnant.

Suddenly, there’s another choice to be made. His wedding to Isabella is the same weekend the Muggle doctor’s tell Sawyer she’ll have the baby. They spend nights sitting awake discussing, and he wishes sometimes she would make the choice for him, just like every other choice in his life has been made by someone else, but she refuses, insists he make it himself. She asks questions, and he answers.

It’s unsettling, Isabella’s lack of reaction when he tells her, but then he reminds himself that this sort of thing is expected. She simply nods, and asks if it’s someone she knows. When he says no, she just nods again, and says that as long as it doesn’t get in the way of their marriage, their duties, there’s no reason it should matter. And he’s staved off the real decision again. The problem is, the Muggle doctors know more than expected; Sawyer goes into labor the day before the wedding, and the choice is again made for him.

Their daughter is born ten hours before the wedding, healthy and beautiful.

They name her Emerson after Sawyer’s mother, and it feels good to be able to make that choice, not to be forced into following tradition. For ten hours, it’s bliss, the three of them there together, no care for the outside world. It’s easy to see clear answers looking down at the soft bundle in his arms. She’s so small, so good, untainted by the world yet, and for ten hours, so are they. The bubble’s burst when the doctor discharges mother and daughter, after the wedding was meant to take place. Idly he wonders what excuse they used, but only in passing, the bliss of new parenthood clouding his thoughts. And for once, Sawyer seems content to live in that world where no questions need asking.

It lasts longer than expected, and the peace isn’t broken how he’s expecting. No, he knows he’ll have to face his family when he takes the trip to collect his belongings from the manor, but he doesn’t expect to have no trouble putting a bag together, seemingly no one around until he’s getting ready to leave again. His father’s voice is casual, like they’re talking about the weather. He gives him an hour to get rid of the problem and return alone, or else he’ll take care of the problem himself.

Instinct is to run, but she’s always been braver than him, and she can’t run, she’s always preferred finding answers instead. He’d joked once that if she had magic, she would’ve ended up a Gryffindor, but it’s not so funny anymore. For once, her decisiveness is a curse, and time runs out.

Four masked figures apparate into the flat, and for the first time, he’s not fast enough on the draw. The curse hits her like a puff of smoke to the face, only he realizes instantaneously it’s not a curse. He’s been practicing too long not to recognize a memory charm when he sees it. And that second is just enough for a curse to hit him in the arm. If he hadn’t been trained by the very hand that cursed him, maybe it would’ve been over there. His father’s Imperius nearly hits him right after, before he’s snapped out of it and fighting. It doesn’t take long, in a blind rage like he’s never felt before or since, to knock them all on their arses, to cradle little Emmy in his arms, and get to Sawyer, cowering in the corner, looking at him with horror.

When he gets close, though, she flinches, backs up as far into the corner as possible, eyes wide with that familiar fear.

But he tries this time, over and over again he tries, waiting for the recognition to wash over her face. It never does, though, whatever charm they’d case, too strong, too catastrophic for him to undo.

(The irony of spending so much time perfecting memory charms for her, but being unable to undo one will never escape him.)

It washes over him slowly, just like the tears that come, that he’s not going to be able to fix this, and maybe she’s safer like this anyway, as much as it hurts. For once, he makes a choice with ease. He adds his own memory charm, to make certain every trace of him is gone, and then he does the same to the attackers before getting them out of the flat. Emerson is wailing as he cleans up the damage, as he adds her baby things to his already packed bag, as he erases every trace of himself, of her from Sawyer’s flat. He adds protective charms around the place, and leaves, only goes a few blocks before apparating to the first place he can picture clearly that feels anywhere near far enough away.

There’s a few days at the beginning after he’s found a room in a shitty hotel in the South Side, where he considers giving magic up; it might be easier to live in Sawyer’s world not just to keep her and their daughter safe, but because the betrayal stings too deeply, all he was taught suddenly turned on him, blood meaning little as soon as he stepped off his father’s path. But no matter what he’s done to stop the curse that his father hit him with, the black tendrils creep higher and higher up his forearm, and the white hot pain keeps his awake when the baby doesn’t.

It doesn’t hit him how in a haze he is until the mediwix asks for his name, and their eyes flick oh-so briefly from him, to the baby fast asleep in the carrier. The curse is halted near the crook of his elbow, but the mark’s been left, and worse, the moment the mediwix leaves, the aurors appear. A rude awakening, to realize all his name gets him here is interrogated, every bone in his body screaming to fight the downright disrespect from the American aurors, except that for once he’s not thinking of just himself. He’s thinking of the baby, and he’s thinking of what Sawyer would’ve done, anything to keep Emerson safe.

So he cooperates. He bites down every insult begging to come out, and he answers them, imagining Sawyer’s the one asking the questions, instead.

It’s made abundantly clear that he’s going to have eyes on him, even if his surname isn’t nearly as tainted as others, at least at first. So he uses those eyes to begin picking up the pieces and rebuilding, always happy to take advantage of connections. If they want to keep an eye on him, then it might as well be easy, and he might as well use it. The eyebrows raised at the suggestion parallel even his own, why. And he simply shrugs it off, says some shite about sticking to what he knows, not wanting to admit that maybe he feels like he needs to do something good, for all the people he hurt the first twenty-seven years of his life; that’s the only way he’s going to feel even slightly okay with what he’s done, and with choosing to leave Sawyer behind.

The adjustment isn’t easy by a long shot. It’s not something he likes to admit out loud, but he never learned how to take care of himself, always someone else to do it for him, even at twenty-seven years old, yet alone taking care of a baby, too. Even worse that he’s suddenly being put through training all over again, like he’s seventeen. He rolls his eyes through it all during the day, then sells more and more of the family heirlooms he took on his way out once the money he’d saved runs out paying for babysitters and rent, pushes through sleepless nights up with Emmy, but he does it. And when he finishes, he’s given an offer he never would’ve expected. The MACUSA Central Squad.

It’s almost hilarious, considering the very clear distrust that only grows with every year considering the whispers crossing the Atlantic. But then, he gets it; he knows a thing a two about keeping his friends close, and his enemies closer. It’s mutually beneficial, they keep him safe, and he gives them what he knows, which is to say very little. All the better that he’s not an enemy, and that he can maybe find some perverse sense of catharsis by doing something good. And maybe even better to be around aurors constantly just in case the day comes that his father comes looking.

And the thing is, it’s a good life, better than he could’ve imagined, and he never would’ve imagined this for himself. His daughter is safe, and well-adjusted, all things considered, and they’re pretty bloody close to happy, even on their own together. He tries not to think of Sawyer, tries to remind himself he made the right choice. He ignores the fact that Emmy still hasn’t shown any signs of magic, even though by her age he’d already transformed his first owl into a kitten accidentally plus a dozen other things. It doesn’t really matter all that much, not yet, not for plenty of time, he tells himself.

What he can’t ignore, though, is that every day everything he ran from creeps closer and closer. Ever watchful eyes on his back, waiting for a slip up. It feels easier to revert back to old ways, and take the hands off approach; he does what he’s asked, no more, and no less, head down, holding it all at a distance.

The issue is that that’s not enough anymore. Not for anyone else around him, not for Emerson, not for him.

[meyhew]

who do u think is pressed and always saying shit about louis even if she always says that she dont care about him anymore. imagine u r in jeopardy who come to ur mind?????

@emmi @hannah focus ur energy on supporting the person you claim to love instead of putting down his loved ones. treat people with kindness is more than a catchphrase 

[speakviolence]

u r not and evan fan anymore or u just tired of him?

im not really into the ahs fandom or celebrity culture anymore. wish him the best tho and i was mad salty when i saw that he got snubbed at the emmys yet sarah paulson got nominated for playing a white lesbian who cries about everything again

[sonjabysonjamorgan]

my emmy.....#thoughts

ok the nominees were announced two and a half weeks ago and the actual emmys dont happen for 2 months so i thought, what better time to let u all kno what i want? so here goes:

for Best Drama im like literally loving how fckin bad this category is lmfao. like the americans is the only show on here that should even be nominated! like i watched season one of the crown and its just these fuckin losers standing in fancy rooms being gloomy bc they Are Symbols and cant Be People :(((( and who gives a shit plus also nothing happens bc none of these people do anything remotely worthwhile in their lives!!! handmaids tale seemed 2 have fallen apart a bit and westworlds like. not that smart or intriguing lol. im watching it! but i dont think its award-winning television. this is us i think got nominated? and i love that show but its not all that amazing. same w stranger things but i feel like its even less deserving imo, plus if u all dont know how i feel about g of t’s at this point then well....why r u here. i think those r the nominees, i havent checked since they got announced and im not checking emmy nominees now btw

for best Drama Actress OBVI i want sandra oh to win, and im trying not to get my hopes up but :(. i 4got tatiana maslany was eligible this year and i dont think she has great odds but if she does win i guess im good bc its still 🇨🇦. keri russell would be good too, i havent seen past season 2 but everything i know about the show has me feeling Ok if she wins. uhhhhh yeah its gonne be claire foy or elisabeth moss but i dont want it to be 💔. and evan rachel wood is certainly....There. im p sure they had robin wright as the sixth nom just cuz shes always nominated and they didnt realize til last minute that house of cards didnt have a season this yr and they scrambled for someone else lmao.

idek whats going on w best actor like jason batemans there? what was his show? im good w either of the this is us guys, the show has great acting! jeffrey wright also got nominated for westworld and w/e and idek who the other 2 dudes are

best supporting actress i would loooove thandie newton as shes the only part of westworld i care about and shes great. its crazy that 3 out of 7 noms are from handmaids tale but tbh ann dowd was on the leftovers so she can do whatever she wants for the rest of her life and i support it 100%, blonde miranda from mass effect is fine, and finding out alexis bledel can actually act is enough of a pleasant surprise for a supprtinf actress nom imo. i dont feel strongly about lena headey and millie bobbie brown either way

best supporting actor idk whos here except dude from stranger things and the lannister #bros. uhhh idc rly but i do love the only acting noms for g of t’s are all the lannister siblings lol

idk whats going one w the comedy category!!!! i only watched unbreakable kimmy schmidt and grace & frankie and the good place so???? im glad the emmy ppl finally realized modern family isnt good anymore and veep not being there means we’re gonna get some new stuff so thats fun! i think i like (or in theory would like if i watched) all the nominees so like. lets have fun ppl....

i want assassination of gianni versace to win all its categories in limited series stuff!!! thats the only thing i watched and it was great!!! watch out for judith light!!!!

thats all the categories i know, thank u all ive had several beers today

[violcteyes]

❛  nobody  s m a r t  plays  f a i r ❜

* ╰ Was that ANYA CHALOTRA I just saw walking down the hallways? Oh wait, no - that was EMMELINE VANCE. The FEMALE is a 19 year old SLYTHERIN who is in 8TH YEAR. I heard the HALF-BLOOD has chosen to SIDE WITH THE ORDER which explains why SHE is CHARMING and HARD-WORKING, but also CYNICAL and WITHDRAWN. But who really knows?

pinterest , connections

parallels ; rosa diaz ( brooklyn 99 ) ,  éowyn ( lord of the rings ) , jackie brown ( jackie brown ) , shoshannah ( inglorious basterds ) , margaery tyrell ( game of thrones )

A B O U T

NAME: emmeline sophia vance NICKNAMES: emma , emmy  AGE: nineteen DATE OF BIRTH: february 21st PRONOUNS: she/her ORIENTATION: straight SPOKEN LANGUAGES: english , french ZODIAC SIGN: pisces

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic good FOUR TEMPERAMENTS: choleric MBTI: estj ELEMENT: fire WAND:  hawthorn with a unicorn hair core, 11" and quite bendy flexibility FAVOURITE QUIDDITCH TEAM: puddlemere united HOUSE: slytherin BLOOD STATUS: halfblood PATRONUS: a fox

H I S T O R Y:

— emmeline is the only child of lillian vance and an unknown father of indian descent. from the stories lillian told emmeline of her father, he was a nice man until lillian revealed to him that she was a witch, and he left her without gaining knowledge that she was pregnant (lillian only admitted this story one night after a glass too many of wine).

— though technically halfblood, emmeline was raised completely in the wizarding world, with a mild knowledge of muggle affairs, though not many.

— her mother was pureblood, and worked as a curse-breaker for gringotts, and she met emmeline’s father during her travels around the world. lillian quit curse-breaking after she became pregnant, and took a job as a secretary in the ministry.

— ever since she was a child, emmeline was ambitious. she once declared during a trip to her mother’s work that she would be minister of magic one day, to the current minister himself. 

— lillian knew her daughter would be a slytherin from the start, despite coming from a family of ravenclaw’s and gryffindor’s. but she knew her daughter would not be an evil or dark wizard, despite the stereotypes of slytherin house. maybe a little power-hungry, but that was ambition more than anything.

— it wasn’t until emmeline was 4 when lillian realized her daughter was different in more ways then one. she’d thought the hair changing at first had been just because she was a child. babies and infants didn’t have a set hair colour until a certain age, right? or maybe it was the light. but she couldn’t deny that her daughter was a metamorphmagus anymore on her fourth birthday, when she made her eyes and hair bright purple like the icing on the cake in front of her.

— lillian managed to convince her daughter to change her hair colour to it’s natural black, but the eyes remained the bright purple for the rest of her childhood, and her teen years. emmeline liked the way it made her different, and remembered.

— emmeline was confident when the hat fell on her head. she knew where she belonged. it barely touched her when the dusty piece of clothing announced to the hall that she was a slytherin. there was not the deafening applause she had imagined, but there were polite claps from the slytherin table. nowhere else. her eyes had narrowed on the three other tables lacking enthusiasm, and wondered what made them think they were better than her, and her house.

— she would never discriminate against another house, and she does not accept any discrimination against her because of her house. she was not evil, she was not awful, she was just aggressive.

— emmeline knows her morals, and knows there is no higher or lower blood, only talent and power. you did not need to be pureblood to hold the most power. she knew muggleborns more powerful than some of the incestuous offspring in her house.

— emmeline wishes to be minister of magic one day, and fully intends to work her way up the ladder to become the most powerful witch in the country. the right way.

— dark magic is not to be dabbled in, but there is a grey area that is acceptable... as long as its not mentioned aloud.

— despite her aggressive nature, emmeline can be quite charming, especially in front of people who will benefit her in the future. but she’s not entirely shallow. she has quite a few friends that she knows she can depend on, and who can depend on her. loyalty is the most important trait for her in a friendship.

— oops reagan went overboard again hahahaha message me to plot pls bbys

[nebris]

In the future, will the English language be full of accented characters?

Here's something to think about as you sip your latté (or your piña colada) while listening to Beyoncé (or Mötley Crüe): Just how important to the English language are accented characters? And will they withstand the test of time?

We've included accents in some words for a long time; after all, we like to steal words from languages such as French, Italian, and German. But they're not an official part of the English alphabet, partly because they weren't so easy to type or typeset, and partly because … well, they're not English, are they? But the letters w and j and q weren't English originally, either. Nor was the apostrophe. And the letters þ and ð were English until we got rid of them. So is the accent on its way out, or is it seeping in?

Technology has long influenced our use of letters in language. For example, English has always had the sounds we now spell with the letters th, but we used to be able to write them with þ and ð. When printing presses arrived from Europe, their sets of type didn't include those characters, so those characters disappeared. On the other hand, it wasn't until more recent centuries that English speakers (and writers) found it useful to have an official distinction between v and u and between i and j (before then, Julius was just another way of writing Ivlivs) or decided we had a use for the letter w that came from Europe. And we didn't really need q, but it looks so ... Latin! So, the sets of type for our printing presses included those letters.

In other words, we adopt letters for a handful of reasons: usefulness, aesthetics, and because, well, we simply can. We abandon letters when it becomes too difficult to write or print them out.

The apostrophe has a similar history. It was invented in Italy, introduced into French in the early 1500s to indicate a dropped letter (something French does a lot), and then borrowed into English later in the same century to indicate the same kind of thing: I'm, 'tis, can't. It also indicated a dropped e in the possessive, so Shakespeare's play Love's Labour's Lost was originally Loues Labour's Lost because the e was dropped from Laboures but not from Loues (remember that u and v weren't separate characters yet!). But the idea of using an apostrophe before s in all singular possessives — and after s in all plural ones — caught on over time, partly because it helped make some useful distinctions, but also because it made the speaker seem smart. And it was part of our sets of moveable type.

So what about accented characters? If English didn't steal words from everywhere, we probably wouldn't have much use for accents. We could use a mark to distinguish between, for instance, the noun and verb forms of protest (prótest versus protést), but we've gotten along for centuries without it. The New Yorker, probably unnecessarily, lets readers know typographically that it understands how to pronounce coördinate. But when we need to distinguish between rose and rosé, divorce and divorcé, expose and exposé, or resume and résumé, accents start to look very attractive.

They also have a certain exotic charm. As Emmy J. Favilla says in her BuzzFeed style guide A World Without "Whom," "I'm partial to using accent marks any chance I can get, because they are cute." Benjamin Dreyer, copy chief of Random House, makes his opinion clear in Dreyer's English: "Sojourning in a chateau can't be nearly as much fun as sojourning in a château." We have a lot of weird silent letters in English spelling (as in people, isle, phthisis) for no other reason than to display where we pillaged the word from, so we're certainly going to want to keep that extra soupçon of éclat on the façade of jalapeño. Otherwise we would look naive — sorry, naïve. It's no accident that so many accented letters are found in food terms; we take savory delight in what seems exotic.

And yet we just don't see them as truly essential. We no longer put the circumflex on rôle or hôtel. We often implement accents incompletely, rendering carménère (a type of red wine grape) as carmenère, Ångström (a very small unit of measurement) as Ångstrom, and résumé as resumé. And sometimes we add them where they didn't even exist in the source: latté, for instance, from Italian latte, which has no need of the accent because in Italian you always say the e; maté and animé likewise add an accent as acupuncture to rouse a final e that we might otherwise treat as silent, though the source languages had no such need.

Certainly they can be fashionable. The double-dot crown named variously the diaeresis and the umlaut (a name taken from the sound change it signifies, just like accent) is especially popular in branding, where it almost never indicates any difference in pronunciation. Branding expert Nancy Friedman maintains an ever-growing collection of decoratively umlauted names, starting with the band Blue Öyster Cult, progressing through Häagen-Dazs, on through Freshëns and Yogen Früz, and on to Söfft, Melōränge, and iögo.

But, as Friedman has pointed out, "The diacritical marks may make for spiffy logos, but they have a downside: They don't show up in the web address, and they're rarely reproduced in newspaper stories." In fact, accents are against the rules for newspaper stories: The Associated Press Stylebook says flatly, "Do not use any diacritical or accent marks because they garble for some users."

Obviously not everyone agrees with this. The New Yorker would not coöperate with anyone who wanted to take away its precious diaereses. The Chicago Manual of Style, the leading guide for many book publishers, plants its flag squarely in the accent camp: "Words, phrases, or titles from another language that occur in an English-language work must include any special characters that appear in the original language." And, technologically, Chicago is more with the times than the AP: We are not on typewriters anymore; Unicode has made a huge variety of accented characters widely available, and even smartphone users have the means to add every accent you'll find in almost any European language.

But as long as accents are for words "from another language," they're not really part of English. And that means accented characters aren't officially real in this language. At least not yet.

In the end, though, the gatekeepers of orthography are the editors. And the views of future generations of editors, who not only enjoy good typography, but tend to believe in getting things right, are more likely to favor the accent. And those who flatly scorn them risk being passé.

https://theweek.com/articles/843837/future-english-language-full-accented-characters?utm_source=pocket-newtab

[butt-fuzz]

I was tagged by the lovely @emmy-award :*

(Rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs)

A- age: 24 B- birthplace: lafayette, la C- current time: 7:20pm D- drink you had last: lipton’s unsweetened tea mixed with crystal light lemonade E- easiest person to talk to: olivia probably F- favorite song: it changes constantly but for this i’ll go with ‘square one’ from tom petty’s third solo album highway companion G- grossest memory: maybe hearing my friend’s mom and boyfriend having sex while we were having a sleepover?  H- horror yes or no: yes if it’s actually scary or cheesy I- in love?: not really J- jealous of people?: ugh all the time, i’m getting better at not being jealous but i still am way too often K- killed someone?: i don’t think i’d be here if i had L- love at first sight or walk past again?: i don’t know M- middle name: elizabeth N- number of siblings: two older brothers O- one wish: to be happy with myself and my life P- person I last called: uhh will maybe Q- question you’re always asked: ‘do you work here?’ even when i do not in fact work wherever here is R- reason to smile: i got to see tom petty and the heartbreakers live with my best friend S- song you last sang?: i was singing ‘sexy sadie’ by the beatles at work today T- time you woke up?: i woke up a lot throughout the morning but i finally got up at 9 something U- underwear color: multicolored but i think mostly pink and white V- vacation: new zealand is my dream vacation, i wouldn’t mind going up north again, or maybe out west because the farthest west i’ve been is arizona and it was only once compared to how many times i’ve been east and south W- worst habit: when my anxiety is bad, i pick at my skin until i bleed X- x-rays?: i think my last x-ray was when i broke my foot in 2013 Y- your favorite food: i don’t know if it’s my favorite but i love my mom’s recipe for crawfish fettuccine, or just about anything with rice and gravy (or mashed potatoes and gravy) (brown gravy) Z- zodiac sign: cancer

I’m tagging: @be-my-head, @melchiondo, @memeween, @sadsappysuckr, @soundsofmyuniverse (i’m gonna be honest, i don’t even know who i follow anymore or who follows me so i’m sorry i’m not tagging more people also it’s giving me anxiety because i feel bad thinking people think i have favorites but these are like the people i have actually talked to and stuff so that’s why i chose them but you’re all great, do this if you want!!!)

[emodanascully]

thank you for tagging me @emmy-award!!!

(Rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs)

A- age: 22 B- birthplace: savonlinna, finland C- current time: 9:47am D- drink you had last: tap water E- easiest person to talk to: my lil sister maybe F- favorite song: every breath you take by the police + step by vampire weekend G- grossest memory: idk?? the only gross memory that comes to mind rn is when a 3-yr-old peed on me last week H- horror yes or no: horror movies are definitely not good for my mental health but i do enjoy watching them sometimes (except not gore-y ones) I- in love?: no thank god J- jealous of people?: not atm and generally speaking pretty rarely K- killed someone?: ???no????? L- love at first sight or walk past again?: neither M- middle name: aurora N- number of siblings: 3 O- one wish: to survive this summer bc i have to live w my big sister for over a month P- person I last called: mom Q- question you’re always asked: all kinds of (pop culture related) trivia questions R- reason to smile: i’m gonna meet the 3-week-old puppies of my friend’s sister’s dog today!!!! S- song you last sang?: what do you mean by justin bieber T- time you woke up?: 8:40am U- underwear color: pink V- vacation: i wish i had the time and money to travel abroad this summer but looks like the only “vacations” i’ll be going on are weekend trips to see my friends W- worst habit: my ridiculous eating habits?? always eating either too much or too little and ending up feeling sick X- x-rays?: got my teeth x-rayed in november and they are actually the only part of my body that has ever been x-rayed Y- your favorite food: i can’t say ikea meatballs anymore bc i quit eating red meat a month ago so i’d have to say pizza Z- zodiac sign: leo

i tag everyone who wants to do this

[thebarns]

13 16 17 57 61 68 69 70 for the ask thingy.

you don't mess around, thank u!!13) Do you hate anyone at the moment?not anyone important just certain teachers who r ruining my life specifically my old english teacher and my modern dance teacher both of whom r a lil racist/homophobic whatta great time 16) How exactly are you feeling at the moment?hooooo boy! i'm mostly good. basically late at night i'm really insecure and spend a lot of time thinking people i care about secretly hate me and don't want to spend time with me anymore which is a great vibe. no idk i think i'm ok, sometimes i get sad bc i feel like i'm growing apart from my friends or i'm not living my life the way i'm supposed to be, but what can ya do. this is all 2am zoe tho, 7am to about 6pm zoe is a much more chill happy person 17) Ever made out in the bathroom?no sir 57) Do you believe in true love?not really? kinda answered this a little bit earlier but my parents don't really love each other so i've never seen like actual love up close/never been in a relationship so i don't really think so. first i gotta find out if love is real before i can tell you if there's a purer more true version of it. tbh sounds like sum bullshit to me61) Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?girl: yes please god bless me i would ascend and go to heaven girls are angelsboy: fuck off nasty vibe 68) Who's the last person you had a deep conversation with?juggie and amanda on the bus talking about siblings and how children are raised differently and younger siblings are more responsible/self sufficient in our respective experiences 69) already answered70) Is there anyone you would die for?my dude i would die for a loaf of bread, but yeah i would die for my friends like actually no question emmy and t and simone u ever need anyone to take a bullet for u, u call me

[gladysnmccary]

[INTERVIEW] Jack Black Gets Candid About Music, Movies, and Games

Jack Black and Kyle Gass of Tenacious D are ready to blow the roof off The Bomb Factory in Deep Ellum.

Tenacious D released their last album Tenacious D in Post-Apocalypto last year and will be bringing it live to DFW. The duo is scheduled to perform on October 19th. Doors will open at 7PM and the music will be unleashed an hour later. Cinema fans may recognize the band from the cult movie classic Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny, which followed their legendary journey to rock and roll immortality. Click here to get tickets or find out more information about the concert and venue.

Of course, Jack Black is no stranger to the big screen or music. He headed up the award-winning movie School of Rock and has starred in numerous other blockbuster hits such as Shallow Hal, King Kong, Nacho Libre, and the Jumanji reboots. Since he is heading to Dallas next month, we thought it might be a good idea to catch up and see what we can expect from his debut at The Bomb Factory. Jack was kind enough to agree and what followed was one of our funniest and most open interviews to date. Take a look at what he had to say and also be sure to hear Tenacious D bring the “spicy mustard” to Deep Ellum later next month!

You've received numerous awards for acting in blockbuster movies and you have a successful music career. What would you consider your highest achievement thus far?

Probably School of Rock. That was like my tombstone. That's my biggest gig and my big breakthrough. I've gotten a lot of satisfaction from Tenacious D. Every album is like a baby because that one's all mine. You know? The writing, directing, and starring in each one of those projects.

Are there any projects you've done that you regret?

No. [laughs] No, none that I would ever admit to.

You’ve actually got a new movie, Jumanji: The Next Level, coming out later this year.

That one I definitely don’t regret; that’s for sure.

You’re known for being a gamer. What games are you currently into?

I’ve been playing this golf game on my phone. My phone has ruined my gaming career because I was all about the Xbox until my iPhone took over my life. Now there's a game called W… Is it called WTF? It can’t be called WTF. Hold on let me look… It’s called WGT Golf.

Close enough.

Yeah, it's a great golf game for your phone. It's a great app, but they found a way to suck all the money out of my wallet and it's a pet peeve of mine, all these f*cking phone games. They can be fun, but I'm from a generation where you bought a game and you were done buying sh*t. Do you know what I mean? You could play the whole game for your 50 bucks or whatever it is. Fifty bucks seemed like a lot of money for a game back in the day.

Now, with these little crappy phone apps with the in-app purchases, you can spend hundreds of dollars on stupid ass games. The graphics are not better than my rad Xbox games. They figured out a way to rig the system and I hate them for it. But, in the meantime, I continued to just give them my money because I'm a sucker.

You are spot on with that. I can't think of a truer statement I've heard today.

I keep on meaning to play Red Dead Redemption. I’ve started playing it but I’ve just scratched the surface. I just can't carve out the time in my life, you know. I’ve got kids and I’ve got jobs. I am looking forward to retirement when I'm in the old folk’s home and really catch up on all those video games that I've let fall by the wayside. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

Let’s just hope the arthritis holds off so you can do that.

I guess that would f*ck with my gaming. But you know, those Rockstar Games like Red Dead and the Grand Theft Auto don’t require all that much finger strength or speed. It's more like watching a movie. It’s like Bandersnatch where it's a hybrid between a movie and a video game. Did you check out Bandersnatch?

I heard it was awesome. So yeah, I had to check it out.

Hell yeah! That's the future. It's half game and half movie. It won an Emmy for Best TV Movie and I thought that they deserved it, just for the innovation of the choosing your own adventure style. It’s so rad and exciting. Those Black Mirror folks know what they're doing. They’ve got some good episodes too.

Speaking of Hollywood, you apparently made some comments a few years back that offended some folks involved in making superhero movies. Let's go ahead and bridge that void. You were considered for playing Green Lantern before that movie came out. What superhero could you see yourself playing?

Yep. Then they gave it to the pretty boy and you see how that turned out. Great job Hollywood. You sure f*cked that one up. Mine was going to make a billion dollars but, you know, hindsight is 20/20. And I don't begrudge him; I like that guy's new superhero movie as long as he keeps the mask on. Just don't take that mask off because that's when everything gets f*cked. What's his name again? I can't remember his name.

Ryan Reynolds?

Yes. Thank you. Thank you, Ryan Reynolds. I do enjoy the twists and turns that his career has taken because it took him a while to get it going, but now he's on fuego. More power to him. What was the question again? What would I want to do?

What superhero movie would you do or what superhero would you be?

You know, I'd have to be some fat pain in the @ss. Maybe Penguin would be a good role for me or maybe Thing. If you put me in the right muscle suit made of rocks I could be the Thing from Fantastic Four.

I don’t know, man. I’ve seen you do Chris Hemsworth’s workout and you nailed it. Don’t sell yourself short.

Oh yeah! No, I I've got some upper body strength. It's just covered in fat. I'm trying to think if there's any other good fat superheroes, but nothing's coming to mind. Maybe I could be, like, Buddha. That’s not a superhero, he's a religious figure. He's the king of the of the Buddhists. His power could be that he can float around and talk to animals. He's pretty rad. He's real mellow and super Zen.

You may have to work that into your next album.

I'd like to play Buddha. You think they could work him into the MCU?

I don't see why not. It seems, at this point, that they let anybody in.

But I definitely would get in trouble for taking an Asian-American role; that could actually be the end of my career. So, there's that… Do you remember how much trouble Tilda Swinton got in? She got into big trouble for playing that role in Dr. Strange. So, you don't really want to f*ck with that. In fact, next question please.

Fair enough. So, Tenacious D used to be a popular basketball term. Why did you think it was a good idea to apply it as your band’s name?

Well at the time we thought it was hilarious, but in retrospect it was pretty dumb. It's not a very good name for a band, and it's not even really funny anymore. I don't know. Tenacious D. We thought it was just pure gold. It's funny how things somethings age well like a fine wine, but that name for a band is kind of like aged mayonnaise. You don't want to be called Tenacious D. But you know what? It served us well.

It's just among a list of lots of great bands with crappy names. The Beatles? That's a dumb name. I guess because it's a bug and also the word “beat” is in there. So, it's like they keep the beat. Just another dumb name for a band. Another dumb name? U2. It’s just the letter U and the number two. That's some high school sh*t. My point is that it doesn't really matter. The only thing that matters is the content. Do you bring the spicy mustard sauce? If you do you'll be all right.

I read that years ago you would trade Kyle Gass food from Jack In The Box for music lessons. Who got the better end of that deal?

Oh man, that's a tough one. Those music lessons were crucial, but have you ever had Jack In The Box’s seasoned curly fries? Those are some of the best french fried potatoes in the world. I started leaking in my mouth just now. I'm going to call it a tie.

Will we ever actually get to hear the greatest song in the world?

There is a school of thought that it is the song in the Pick of Destiny, Beelzebub. But, you know, it's always a matter of opinion. That's the joke of the greatest song in the world. It's not really a definable thing. It's not really a measurable quantity. Scientifically, it doesn't make any sense to say something is the best song in the world. That’s the joke. It's in the ear of the beholder. One man’s eargasm is another man’s sh*tty music.

For those who've never been to a Tenacious D concert (or even those that have been), what can they expect from your upcoming concert in Dallas?

Well, for those audience members that are old enough to have seen Pink Floyd’s The Wall, that's what it's being compared to. It's a rock opera. It's epic. It's powerful. It's hilarious. It's rated R. Some say it’s rated X but I'm just going to say it’s a really hard R.

Are you keeping your clothes on?

I keep my pants on, but it's all animated. There's, like, a lot of drawings that will be projected on the screens around us. There’s full penetration, but it's like a really bad cartoon drawing trying to do it. It doesn't seem like it should get the same rating as a pornographic film. You get away with a lot more. Have you ever see the movie Sausage Party? You know you never would have been able to do any of that sh*t if it wasn’t a cartoon.

I was thinking that you were going to say Team America.

Aw, the best! You know, there's an unrated version that has an even funnier though sex montage. They went with, like, a full Cleveland Steamer, but only in the not rated version. You won’t get that on TV. You're not going to get that on iTunes or iMovie, but I highly recommend it. That is one of the greats.

I wouldn't call a rock opera, but man can they write some funny songs. Ah, Team America World Police… It all came down to that one weird homeless person, sort of, moral of the story. Know what I mean?

Yes, I do.

Genius and true. You can't really argue with it. They also did it with Book of Mormon. Did you see that show?

That is one that I have not seen.

They crack the code on Broadway, dude. It is the spiciest mustard, every bit as spicy as Team America. Somehow, they made it so we're laughing our @ss off, but then you look over there and there's an 80-year-old grandma laughing her balls off. How do they do it? It's like some kind of magic trick. It's wizardry.

They definitely have found a way to make some hits. Are you ready for few rapid-fire questions?

Yeah.

Favorite singer?

I'm going to go with that Aerosmith guy.

Favorite song?

I'm going to go with that AC/DC song, Shake A Leg.

Instrument you wish that you could play?

Accordion.

Song you hate to admit that you like?

What’s that song again by Chicago? I’m going to have to look it up. F*cking Chicago, dude. They are my guilty pleasure. I want to nail it. [He proceeds to cuss out his iTunes for not allowing him to log in so he could search] If You Leave Me Now, that’s it.

What would a song title be for the story of your life?

Wow… Sh*t, it would be really embarrassing to say because I've had a very charmed life, so it’d be something like Juke Box Hero.

Now I’m going to give you a subject and I want you to tell me the first word that comes to mind.

Okay.

Kyle Gass

Brother.

Nickelback.

What's that one jam? It’s their biggest hit. [Proceeds to belt out a few lines from the chorus of How You Remind Me] Only one word?

I’ll let you slide and use a couple if needed.

This is unfair, but I'm going to go with cheesy. If I only get one word it’s cheesy.

Fair enough. Next topic, pirate metal.

What's that? Pirate metal? One word? Um, arrrggghhh!

I didn't know what that was until about a year and a half ago. Apparently, it's heavy metal music with pirate lyrics. That may be right up your alley.

That's a new genre to me.

Taylor Swift

Trouble.

Do I want to know why?

You be careful if you date Taylor Swift. She's going to write it song about it. She will cause you a whole world of hurt.

The next and last topic, Texas.

I'm going with barbecue.

Good answer.

I want you to spell out barbecue, not just BBQ.

Are you sure you don’t want me to put the word “Bar” and the letters BQ?

No. Come on...

Alright, I'll have to edit it. No acronym. That's all the questions I had for you. I appreciate it.

Absolutely man. Thank you. I’ll see you at the show.

The post [INTERVIEW] Jack Black Gets Candid About Music, Movies, and Games appeared first on I Live In Dallas.

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