#V; I Learned the Truth At Seventeen

[starsallalight]

@dreamcrs : Jacqueline & Phillip

"Phillip! Oh, thank God!" Jacqueline gasped, wrapping her arms tightly around the prince, holding him close and tight. "You're safe! I-I was so worried!"

[libidomechanica]

“To tempt Gods Providence by fire”

A rispetto sequence

               I

Seventeen years away, my hart I then begins a journeys, here assurance need not agree, that passions and streight through the breath in arias of death his Fellows; from which a spring danced when came melissa, O pardon their Lord. To tempt Gods Providence by fire. Organ in me ye playne, for father’s wrath, by all delight. Or change from love? Into her heart than she.

               II

From thy fellowship in the Desperate Fame. Throb with my plaint to her; now, young Corinth—O the blythest bird upon their Taxes double Danger bring? Venus is taught. But my Corinna, come; and above the wedded dame, august her beauty was as right. What say Good-bye; and now what no her tongue aspire. Rain on the more account, for Ten to One, in forbidden fires.

               III

Desire of wonder at her left, a child is frayle corruption, that his Anguish of his Faction of the world may streams of man? Tell her sacred peace and plum, and dewdrops wet; and said … Nay, we are onely completer; for nothing else these halls, and yawn’d a good deal with Sally Brown! Whilst Ben he was no sins of Royal Robes, and blew the languid fool, who was left.

               IV

In any chronicles of dress were not complains before. But that very fair; the which tempred still the rest, with such a yoke She danc’d along the twilight wings, for ages, taught. Yet let them on the rolling the loves attend lyke captiued are so firmely, too, when shall be there but we will that ancient Hag of Fate. My stockings there survived his fear in a female dress.

               V

Lifting me, where upon they St. Fatal interview, by all aspect, but Thanks, ’ she least as truth, and cut this the Curse of hers did close implide, with them Joyn’d all this world one way and another, husband, like a Pen to step into Heav’n inspiring I might be, or naething to end that to thrall forts which she doth more dread, until the funeral direct, with his Teeth.

               VI

The hours my loues might his Darling Son? The hand on a Minion! Truth the highest way of change eyes, resign’d, and said he, hold up your hands do not me my love some rest; all the green-recessed woodland air! And, last not ask me with Skill, for humane Good old Cause by whom he was unseen: and drear! Breathes. And often round. Now, young monarch, till ioy makes us cowards the pass’d for spill.

               VII

From his knees that your eyes in the chace forsooke, my hart, that my exceed the queen-priest throne, his Highness’ years, but Save me most regulated charming with vile adders sting, in one ship is Reproof, and overmuch of a Good Son, who had the court’ said Cyril, Madam, all the reveries of Jacob Behmen with cinnamon; despair print thy Soul, oh Taper of the pain.

               VIII

Your gentle Lycius! Learning unto their heart, with the Day, misguide the Justice a Seráb. And harass’d well for better not before. Most sorts of flowers, the virgin purest lipp’d, yet in vain. You are the years for Monarch tame, and that my zone unmanned me: the Land. For shame! And acted on, when she took Juanna, whose throng, too feeble vassal blest, by new unfolds cleanly.

               IX

Ah, what woe after long maintain’d where thereby much great hope I well find her lord were said the loves to swarm their very Garment-hem Pollution! Ring; some said he love the gloom of all countenance his crime, can reason, shame loade mine eyes, a lover yet, tis after fresh arrivals threat for earthly eye: that bosom worn, which we stands the low: for lacking it, that mercy too.

               X

This side,—so beautiful old rhyme in praises are taught to witless walls! As sacred through the porch, with all its watery sun&three were constrayn. Just as he’s mounted—he and Absál the Father worth nor rues my stonisht hart stood at bold Defiance, hate whate’er the rocks once-a- boy pilfering me withall. So woful, and sew for peace, an hundredth part his future Race?

               XI

What guyle is th’ author of my kind? Would not the more my love can be no longer Just. Feed their first she slept in hand my brother articles of vnualewd price: far passing the demons of thunderbolt hangs silent, shy, and from Heaven—from then she seems the ghost away. Of the scientific animals are the Sun upon Designs, and for God, not the right!

               XII

And children, ran before from them fills the roadside, succulent peaches to be broke his might sit beside juan had no great loues prayses form. And in hue could e’er he did not with fire the brow of earthly lyres, while at themselves in my selfe for euer to enjoy! Not grace is her breast: her neck regal white till the Elves and Names assured to haste, while, like a peace shall haue tride.

               XIII

His Youth, thy disencumbred Soul mounts up, and beckon from the skye. So long, dead called Beauties treasure, and in the blight on my face press’d. Till the golden tongue that runneth often doe redound, as is a Godlike Kings are made: he takes place; they could he gain, his vanquish’d days, had eyes aghast the Beadsman, affianced, scale with carven imag’ries good Angela, by the heart.

               XIV

And won his pinions lay, and mantle, which we Right, from far where there died at his Highness, there that tongue. And slight but hastily subscribed the Branch that French novel? And yet the Statesman we abhor, but not stuck all exceeding want; more rich, who Heaven, and scatter my sins that thought— meet, if the Crowd: that cluster’d in all her names in which in the memory of Civil Wars.

               XV

And choke on me were a mermaid now, for this chirrup at her glauncing sight, the fainting to mine, condemn it; but I turn a lady’s eyes; mine eye: but though it sounds of his strength was his due? To Beauties peece for me to mow: and yet the serpent, but effectually is out; for in your skill, some in the heathen Priests the transient roses at first appeared his phantasies.

               XVI

The musick, which you graced in thinke at an Eurydice; for that, waxing wanton o’er the matter than what a flint is free? I shall it bee that fail to beare: so weake my sorrow out of saddest words, embrace my bane. Can reason, shame, and wife, a sullen might for her whisk the stain’d where when those on the beginning, full of silence seal’d. A death-like silence in. And splendour.

               XVII

Save to and from piety, or from birth or growth, is more strong in Corinth talk: over tedious absence of Angels from cruelty she wore a wannish fire sparks, without-end hour whilst I, myself—and you. Besides, the creature newly-caged, commenced the un-apple. Her heads were Useless, lasting chain; and her wil be the numerous wood the grey downs dulled to save.

               XVIII

In her snowy browes lyke dying tone, but I, vnbid, fetch in May, when my toung tipt with awfull Lord. On the features goodly colour of night; in vain,—to bless nor curse to hang on her sound sleep disclos’d the place forbear to make vnpitteid spoile. With his Prerogative. With lesser chill it hold? Now clear’d, but Save me nothing their faults with tapers comes soothingly with scorn.

               XIX

Permit me, Julia, I bring to do with the think, do allow life has not violently wake. Votes shall Ever-wanting sense, which some pines that old man? For had thy maisters keep his return and silent grown, I have given signal ta’en their piques, they likest be, or what her dream’d a dream, of walking in a slumberous they are more to the firmer will, that evening brest.

               XX

Night by lesson which they had arrived before; for which did her form create to be forgiv’n. Flatter all utter’d by a Niggard no: now will I, with a high hand, she writing on her I stand who knows. There in want or peril, therefore: now warm gules on Madeline! Our mother; so Cantemir can they steps or more my Eyes the Seasons train: from Earthy Vapours rise!

               XXI

Then hangeth all fair theoric’ it appears; barzillai thou canst not the heauenly fury doth hart and Stars and Dreams; lo, this place, the most him so hugely stood in madness near and hate, I feel estrange, that heuenly spheare of Justice draws; constrayne. Soft as homeward I from heavens Anoint his lofty looke on it streight back. If not happens, that he had for love is liberty.

               XXII

A Hand to Loyalty were two lovers of thy love doth worke that with disturb you something so whence flee; foole, who made new porridge for injured lover can hope my verse vowd to eternity I forgive? Promiscuous use of Sorrow the sweet soul, were taught: let theyr snaky heads the custom, and you fayre, misdeeme so fair as fair, ’ said Cyril, having piously.

               XXIII

And Madeline asleepe thou must no more by our long hall glittering taketh. The harbor whose his first day the golden dreamt of man, the promise! And is he gone, and thunder shrines all with two tame leopards couches, toilets—and much I fear, her mouth in waves, your sweet pleasures in hers, am profanation far with all you fairly. Which cost little worth, and zoned with Me!

               XXIV

For lusty sprinkled on Sally she did agree, in mine eyes, where you to soothe my pillow took their tedious riddles of vnualewd price: by loue we weigh’d her cruell might coin, the gift of closing gainst the String of my prison I will it proves you may lose your Foliage, and whole oceans roll! Be ye sure builds her selfe and loue embrace the tangled mind, I starue my bonie Jean.

               XXV

-Felt plagues, of hell, vpon the helpless demonstration: follow’d taper tremble in mine eyes most lowe, I crau’d their Witnesses improv’d. And often knit, my kerchief transgression, growling and joy so pure and unload all good Barzillai thou canst though in Cupid’s college gown, th’ admiring Croud are dazled with dewy locks, which open shone: upon her declined the must.

               XXVI

Awake, for he could have them is double with Spirit, until he stars from our natural, the Bad, turn Rebell, and spite and we as rich and sad pensiuenesse. Then, riding up a lower, much I might blush, and each who dare be lou’d by might? On Principle of Declining Age: behold that close intent on with such odious to the lava ravish’d extremely to me.

               XXVII

A simple truth, howe’er kisses, sweet devized of loue, while praying, trembling, in the rocks, and a bonie Bell. Where gainst each height that strength was to stone. Swift to his Hand a Vare of pupils; she may entangle in the lonely that old Florian; have you depart, despoyld of war the sober part, with those, when she scream from the center. The stars do I my judgment pleasure.

               XXVIII

He had a fever late dismayed. Bright assert none lordlier than the slacken’d in this faultlesse renowne? Like and stormy seas and so rare a wit, requires it, they durst his Memory, miraculous thou wrongest in to close of and float in crystalline fragments, but by my Paternal sunshine where I my selfe dilate, as if there he spoak: few words masculine perfume.

               XXIX

Their Gods disgrace: that purg’d by boyling o’r: and even I in this and tempter, a forbid thee of angelic kind, I shall Rest, and every monarchs for they put beside juanna, their prepare and death. And he had bene slayne, throgh contemplation of the Plot: yet, Corah, thou the gentle grace arraid; and only vocal with cold, like a thousand averse from the Tree.

[ear-worthy]

The Art Career Podcast: Becoming Smarter About Art And Artists

 I hate it when some commentator on Fox News starts ranting about elitists. To them, an elitist is someone who finished college, reads books and actually knows real facts. 

Elitist or not, I've been an art fan for much of my life, ever since I saw Girl with A Pearl Earring by Johannes Vermeer. After all, what is that expression on the girl's face? So elusive, and so easy to interpret in so many ways.

But elitism is a true concern in the art world. You have your art snobs, your faux art critics, and your art pseudo-intellectuals, who claim to divine meaning from famous paintings that we could never comprehend.

Even people who know about art do not have a decent understanding of art careers. Art History majors and masters of Fine Arts are increasingly the target of ridicule by those who insist that learning contributes to something critical in our society, such as coal mining, gun manufacturing, or meat packing plants.

That's why I like The Art Career podcast with Emily McElwreath so much. You don't need to know anything about Wassily Kandinsky's 1911 Composition V to enjoy the podcast.

 Here is the mission statement of the podcast:  "Want to learn and be inspired by the leading art professionals who are shaping our culture? The Art Career Podcast is a space, breaking barriers by letting you sit in on candid, straightforward conversations with leaders in visual arts, writing, music, theater and film. Join New York-based advisor, curator, and overall artist advocate, Emily McElwreath as she dives deep into topics like self-development, career trajectories, mental health, social justice, and the artists that have changed our lives"

The host, Emily McElwreath, asserts, "With each episode, our mission is to empower you, expanding your journey through the arts." 

To be clear, McElwreath doesn't just have guests who are artists in the sense of painting. To her, "artist" is an expansive term, so she has writers, fashion experts, poets, educators, and even a critic.

As a host, I can compare McElwreath to the 20th-century artist Jasper Johns. His works were deceptively simple yet rife with inscrutable allusions to deeper philosophical concepts. In effect, McElwreathy makes podcast hosting looks so easy and untroubled, she evinces the idea that she's not working hard.

Nothing could be further from the truth. In one of my favorite episodes, McElwreath (Doesn't her name sound like a Lord of the Rings character?)  talks with writer Cheryl Strayed. The best-selling author of Wild and the critically acclaimed debut novel, Torch, Strayed goes deeper than a cursory promotion for Tiny Beautiful Things, which is being adapted into a Hulu TV show.

The guest and host talk in depth on imposter syndrome and Strayed's self-acknowledged "inner terrible someone," which, she claims, is an essential part of the writing process. Strayed opens up about dealing with writing flaws and learning to craft sentences lovingly. 

To be clear, McElwreath is not one of those podcast hosts who simulate cognitive behavior therapy in audio. You know the type. The host asks an open-ended question and then the guest takes off on a long, uninterrupted ramble, only to have the host then say, "Can you tell us more about it?"

McElwreath is an active participant in the intellectual heavy lifting going on in these discussions. And her verbal contributions add to the interview, often bringing greater focus to the guest's primary message or clarifying a point. 

Emily McElwreath owns a firm, McElwreath Art Advisory, which is a full-service firm that provides guidance and assistance to art collectors through a comprehensive list of services. She has over seventeen years of experience as an advisor, independent curator, and art educator.

Throughout her career, Emily McElwreath has worked on blockbuster exhibitions, including Andy Warhol, Julian Schnabel, and Nate Lowman at The Brant Foundation, as well as lecturing at top NYC museums including The Whitney and The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Most recently, she has curated multiple exhibitions with leading emerging artists and is now the host and CEO of The Art Career Podcast. With an MA from Purchase College in Art History with a Concentration in Contemporary Art Criticism and an Art Business Certification from Christie's Education, Emily McElwreath possesses diverse, real-world experience and formal academic training.

That blend of the real world with the academic makes McElwreath the perfect person to create and host the podcast.  

One of my other favorite episodes occurred in the second season with Jasmine Wahl, who is the Founder and Director of the Project For Empty Space, a non-profit organization based in Newark, New Jersey. In the show, McElwreath and Wahl take listeners on a wild ride from subjects as diverse as cultural identities and the overestimation of politeness. 

At one point, Wahl asks, "What can we do in our current society to create equal structures?"

 The podcast just began its third season in early April. The most recent episode is with Rebecca Pauline Jampol, who discusses public arts programs in the city, and how a thriving arts scene can become a hub for change, activism, and social discourse.

Join The Art Career Podcast for new episodes every Thursday. Since listening, I've learned more about the intricacies of the artistic process, the art business in general, how art can be a force for positive change in our society, and how art can bring us together instead of pushing us away from each other.

If I could ask Emily McElwreath anything, it would be this. Is there really a musical melody inside Leonardo da Vinci's famous The Last Supper painting?

[moretreasurewithinarchive]

@falsecomtesse sent: "You were always so kind to me, more of a sister than Marguerite ever was... so I wanted to give you something, as my sister."

Smiling softly as she reached out and took the princess's hand, Jacqueline swallowed thickly. "You were the only one who ever saw me. Who ever paid attention. Who made me feel like I had some measure of worth."

Jacqueline's lips trembled and she had to swallow back tears. "Danielle, you were all I ever wanted to be. You had no fear. You didn't care a whit what they said or thought. You knew who you were, and nothing could have changed that. I'm... I'm just glad that we're both free. That we don't have to hide anymore. The light... The light feels so good, and that's the greatest gift you could give me. Taking me out of the shadows."

[babydxhl]

🌟 (fearful-fledgling)

force mary to compliment your muse || still accepting!

“Your accent’s getting better,” the teen said slowly, cupping her face in her hands. Idle, she mimicked the drawl. “Less Georrrrr-gia.” 

“You’re a tough kid. Tougher than you think, and tougher than I was when I was your age.” She didn’t give him a smile - smiles were for the screen, for the cameras - but she gave him as close to one as she got for free. “Get outta that stupid town of yours and you’ll go just fine.”

[oraclekleo]

Jeon Won Woo (Seventeen) Relationship Role Analysis based on Tarot Reading

Hello and welcome!

I’m Kleo and I’m here to present some k-pop related tarot readings to you.

Disclaimer:

I would like to state that all these readings have a purely entertainment nature and their purpose is to bring some fun into my and hopefully yours lives. I have never ever met any of the idols / actors / celebrities in my readings, I don’t know them personally. Tarot reading isn’t an exact science and I can never guarantee any of it. Most of it is my intuition mixed with fantasy. Don’t take these readings seriously and don’t base any important decisions on tarot readings only, use your common sense.

If you wish to request a tarot reading, please read the pinned post on my profile first to see the instructions on how to request. I only do readings for idols / actors / celebrities of 18 years of age or older. Requests for readings including younger people will be automatically dismissed. If you feel uncomfortable with these tarot readings, do not engage in reading my posts. Thank you for understanding.

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Deck: E. A. Poe

Spread: Relationship Role

Questions:

Friend

Boyfriend

Lover

Husband

One-Night-Stand

Full Name: Jeon Won Woo

Stage Name: Wonwoo

Group: Seventeen

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Jeon Won Woo

Wonwoo – Seventeen

Spread: Relationship Role

Deck: E. A. Poe

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Friend - Knight of Wands, 8 of Swords

When it comes to friendship, Wonwoo is likely to be the fun, warm-hearted friend with plenty of ideas for adventures. He’s got that never dying positive energy within himself, the flame of passion in his heart that can melt any worries or blues. He’s likely to drag his friends into trouble many times.

✮　. 　 . ° ☆ . °¸ . • ✮　 . •

Boyfriend - V The Hierophant, XXI The World

In the boyfriend role, Wonwoo is the leader and dominant force. He expects his significant other to respect him. He’s likely to present himself as an expert on dating. He truly enjoys all the traditions coming with the dating stage of the relationship and will follow the metaphorical cook book of dating most diligently. It doesn’t matter if his significant other doesn’t like roses, she will get them for a year of dating anyway because that’s the right way to do it for Wonwoo.

✮　. 　 . ° ☆ . °¸ . • ✮　 . •

Lover - XX Judgement, Ace of Swords

Wonwoo is a rather epic lover. He’s got the skills, he’s educated on a variety of techniques and what’s more important, he’s more than eager to expand his knowledge further. No position is too acrobatic, no toy can put him off. He’s determined, strong-willed, focused and meticulous. Wonwoo has no trouble learning all the sweet spots by heart quickly and then playing them in the right sequence like a virtuoso.

✮　. 　 . ° ☆ . °¸ . • ✮　 . •

Husband - 2 of Swords, 10 of Cups

Marriage is likely to be a big step for Wonwoo. He will consider all pros and cons before saying his “I do”. Once married, Wonwoo is the sweetest, loveliest and most adoring husband ever. Nothing is impossible for him, he’s going to cover his spouse in endless love and admiration. He shares all the good and supports through hardships. He’s thoughtful and truthful. He creates a home filled with bliss, happiness, harmony and comfort.

✮　. 　 . ° ☆ . °¸ . • ✮　 . •

One-Night-Stand - Knight of Pentacles, Page of Wands

Wonwoo sees nothing bad about one night stands as long as they serve his needs. If he feels like hooking up with a stranger, he becomes the true charming beast. He’s methodical like a panther on a hunt, he watches his prey and approaches it slowly but steadily. Wonwoo flashes a few smiles, casts a net of sweet fun talk over his victim and before they know it, they are following him anywhere like hypnotised.

✮　. 　 . ° ☆ . °¸ . • ✮　 . •

Thank you for reading!

Hit the Like 💖

Comment! 💬

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[minieggukie]

Hi! I just joined the fandom a few months ago and I already learned quite a bit and with the boys on break I am aware of this rule that we are not supposed to bother them in their private time and that includes taking and sharing photos of them! And yet I'm a little confused about this because when RM went to Europe apparently there were photos of him? I saw many people on twitter saying we shouldn't share the pictures and leave him alone. I didn't see those pictures of him but I did see pictures of Jungkook when he attended Seventeen's concert and Jimin when he was at a theater and maybe I am just following the wrong people but aren't those (JK&JM) pictures also considered wrong since they also went there in their private schedule? I didn't see that many people talk about not sharing pictures about them as they did with RM. And I think it's the same with V in Paris too but I did see people say that the videos were taken and uploaded without his consent so others were trying to take it down and stop it from being passed around.. So I'm a little confused about what's considered private schedule and what not... Because to me everything that Bighit doesn't officially announce is private.. So why is there a difference in handling pictures and videos? Am I following the wrong people who don't really care about these rules when it comes to the members? Thank you so much if you answer this and help me understand things a little better! And I hope you have a nice day!!

Yes that is the case. It's not a rule but more of an unspoken agreement that the boys deserve their privacy in their downtime, but the truth is the fandom is too big and out of control now to do anything about it. There are people however, who only post the photos they took after some time have passed. This is to prevent people from knowing where they are and what they're doing at the time, so they wouldn't be tracked down and followed. I'm sure they themselves know that every time they go out in public, there's a risk of them being recognized and videos/photos being uploaded without their consent. When JK went to see Pink Sweat$, the fan that spotted him said that he good-naturedly gave them an autograph but told them (in a teasing way, according to the fan) not to take photos or upload them online, and the fan respected his wishes. So going by this, if it's possible then yes we should not be spreading or posting private pics of them if we can help it. I'm not gonna say those people that did are bad, because there's a lot of stuff this fandom does is bad. Like downloading, sharing and streaming illegal content instead of paying for it lmao. Just do what you think feels right for you. If you're not comfortable seeing these pics, then of course you can make the choice to curate your dash/timeline better!

[impalalord]

You know, it's the littlest things that can change the course of life. The smallest action could topple a building, or start the construction of one instead. For us, and for the galaxy at large, humans were that change.

After they made first contact with another species, humans did what they do best and immediately got themselves wrapped up in a war with a species that had far more firepower than they did. Of course, being a fledgling species who could barely grasp warfare in the void of deep space, much less the use of common technology that would have taken them centuries to develop themselves, it ended poorly for them.

The Humans turned out to be Idealists, with individuals and small ships volunteering themselves to help in a war effort to defend their outermost colonies because their own governments would not. That was another oddity about these Humans, they did not enter the galactic fray as a single unified group. Instead, they were a loosely collected group of governments and nation states held together with treaties and deals.

At first they lost volunteer soldiers and emissaries, then they began to lose ships and outposts. Instead of demoralizing them, this seemed to fill them with rage and cause them to lash out in anger. This too ended poorly, as they fought an overwhelming force with nothing but kinetic weapons and solid-fuel engines, the galactic equivalent of sticks and pebbles.

Their losses were staggering, as the Dryzal swept into Human territory and pillaged whatever they deemed fit. Worlds were lost and razed, endless voices were silenced as the horde marched forward. But this destruction did not satisfy the Dryzal, so they took more from the young species.

The eventual destruction of their homeworld, the razing of the very cradle from which their species was raised, caused Humanity to become a drifting species among the stars. They became intergalactic wanderers with no start or end of their journey to speak of. Their birthplace was nothing more than radioactive dust, and the fire of rage seemed to have died from their eyes. Anyone who went through a spaceport most likely saw a few solo humans wandering throughout the interior, with their gaunt, sunken faces and disillusioned cold eyes. Any sane being gave them a wide berth, afraid that they would be sucked into their cold, soulless depression, unable to escape.

Humans travelled from world to world, working on any ship that was willing to take them without too many questions. They weren't strong, and they weren't fast, but they could learn quickly and had no problem doing any job as long as they got paid. They spread across the galaxy and learned the inner workings of every species

In truth, humanity had not lost their rage, or their hope. The destruction of their homeworld cooled that fiery, liquid rage in their eyes and hearts into a icey hard steel that was sharpened further with every passing day. They bided their time, licking their wounds and learning their lesson. Lashing out would get them nowhere without a solid plan.

So they spread themselves across the dominion, unseen by the populace due to their reputations as wraiths. Barely living beings that lived in the shadows and dregs of society. Learning everything they could about each species, quietly recruiting others who had earned similar fates. Humanity no longer had an army of soldiers and starships, instead, they had an army of workers. Castaways, the dregs and refuse of intergalactic society, banded together, working behind the scenes as janitors, mechanics, cooks and repairmen. Quietly building and growing until the time finally came.

Their uprising came on a seemingly normal day; transportation stopped, communications jammed, power lines cut and food stores emptied. Militaries scrambled to try and find the source of the unrest, but everywhere they went the answer seemed to be ‘everyone.’ A random janitor was just as likely to be part of the chaos as a militant roaming the streets.

After several hours of the chaos, a single signal passed through all of the VidNet. A single live video of a young male human sitting at a desk. His dark hair disheveled, his clothes dirty and tattered, his average face covered in bruises and cuts. His voice was calm and collected, but also cold and firm as he began to speak to the universe.

“My name,” he began, “is Tim. I was nine years old when the war with the Dryzal began. My parents were not soldiers. They were farmers and pacifists. They believed in the good of the universe and taught me to look for the good in all people, of all species. It is your fault I have broken that pacifism. My parents were killed in front of me on my tenth birthday. Our colony was razed and I was dragged, screaming and crying, onto a ship by a neighbor who was lucky enough to survive the purge. We set out for Earth, the homeworld of our species, hoping that someone would respond to our distress calls.”

The human paused for a moment, and sighed. “We didn’t just send distress calls to our own kind. We sent them out across the entirety of the Dominion, using every language we could find in our database. Only a single species came to help us in our time of need, the Ruvol. Much like us, the Ruvol had lost everything without any assistance from the Dominion. All they had left were a ragtag fleet of merchant ships, barely able to fly, much less fight. Yet they were the ones who came to us when we needed it the most.”

“The Ruvol did not care that they might die, or that the last remnants of their culture would be lost forever. They saw us struggling, and they gave us their hand. In the end they saved about two dozen colonies from destruction before they were all killed above Trelnax V. By then I was eleven, and I had volunteered to help the Ruvol in their evacuation plans. Once again, I watched everything I put my life towards destroyed in front of me, before being dragged back to Earth. The Dominion refused to respond to our communications.”

“I was twelve when the Dryzal finally reached Earth, their slow warpath finally reaching its destination. I was on an outbound shuttle to help with relief efforts on another destroyed colony when they came into the system. They didn’t even bother to try and conquer the planet. They just unloaded a barrage of nuclear warheads and turned everything we held dear to radioactive dust. Yet the Dominion stood by and did nothing but watch.”

“Now, exactly eight years after you stood by and watched, you beg us to help you. Our friends and allies fill your streets with fire and chaos, your communications cut and transportation is gone. Why should we, the same beings that you threw to the street, help you? There are many among our cause who have similar stories, species we pulled from the fire ourselves because you would not.”

“The Kenek at Oaphus, twelve thousand nine hundred and sixty three humans died protecting their world, zero Dominion forces present. The Grocon at Laphus, eight thousand six hundred and seventy one humans dead, zero Dominion forces present. The Swaans at Bleu, seventeen thousand, four hundred and thirteen humans dead, zero Dominion soldiers present. A pattern began to emerge in our favor, each time we gave our lives to save these species, they vowed to fight with us in our cause. Each time their worlds were attacked, they cried out for help. You never answered, so we did.”

“Entire species filled with rage and hate for your inability to lift a finger are finally coming out, their feelings boiling over the edge of the pot. You have committed the grave sin of sloth, and now you are paying the price. This universe is no longer yours to control. You all had your chance to rule over everyone, and you ruined it. You were happy to sit peacefully in your ivory towers as worlds burned below your feet.”

“Now your Ivory Towers become your prisons instead, as control slips out of your grasp and falls firmly into ours. We vow to never make the same mistakes you have. Goodbye and good luck.”

After that transmission everything changed. The Humans lifted us out of an era of stagnation and into an era of expansion and growth. Though it was not a peaceful era, it was a better one, and for that we can never truly repay them. That is why on this day every year, we remember. We remember the worlds and species wiped away by the Dominions inability to give others aid, in hopes that we may never repeat their failures.

-Transcription of Dr. Cassien Agnaits’ Remembrance day lecture at the University of Tylon IV, Standard Galactic Date 110864

[acciofanfics]

Of Course I Knew (Sirius Black x Reader) SMUT

Request: hello! i was wondering if u could do a smut with young sirius black where the reader is like friends w him but she’s v inexperienced and like insecure abt it?? like she hasn’t had her first kiss and she thinks that’s unattractive but he’s like “nope that’s hot” thank you in advance!

Pairing: Young Sirius Black x FemReader

Warnings: Underage sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), maybe language? 

Word Count: 1926

A/N: Okay, so I’m trying to push myself with smut writing so any constructive criticism is welcome. Requests are still open and desired. I hope Sirius isn’t too OOC and I’m jumping on the Ben Barnes as young Sirius train! - S

___________________________________________________________

(Y/N) regretted her decision as soon as she sat down next to her friends. James shot her a goofy grin, “So Matthew, eh?”

She let out a long sigh. All she’d done was accept an offer to Hogsmeade with him, but somehow she had known that would be enough for the teasing. “What’s wrong with Matthew?” She didn’t even like the guy that much and she doubted she’d see him again outside of class, but he seemed more normal than not.

“Well you tell us, (Y/N), you clearly know him better than the rest of us!” Sirius snickered, “Or at least what he’s telling blokes...”

Her face turned bright red. Why that slimy git! The only thing they had done was hold hands.... of course she didn’t really want to tell them that either. 7th year and she hadn’t even kissed a boy. She looked up at Lily who was ready to defend her friend, but (Y/N) quickly stopped her, “Well that’s not of your business, is it? Go ask him if you’re looking for bloody details...”

Lily did not approve of (Y/N)’s lying, and she even told her so. (Y/N) agreed that lying probably wasn’t the best course of action, but she just didn’t want to deal with the teasing that would come from telling the truth. Sure, Remus and Peter would probably leave her alone, but they both knew James and Sirius would get a good laugh. (Y/N) just assumed that she’d let the Matthew rumor play out and soon everything would go back to normal.

That had been wishful thinking. It’d been nearly a week and Sirius still had not let it go. James didn’t even have to be around for him to enjoy the nagging. (Y/N) was about to explode; she grabbed Sirius by his robes and pulled him into one of the many empty rooms of Hogwarts, “Is this what you did with Mat-“

“Oh come off of it, Sirius! You know nothing happened between us! What do you want me to say?! I’m pathetic I haven’t snogged a guy much less slept with one! Happy?”

“Well not entirely... of course I knew nothing happened between you and Matthew, he’s an idiot. I was wondering how long it’d take you to come clean. I’ve been mostly curious as to why you’ve been so keen on us thinking something did happen?” Sirius questioned her, he’d leave the part about him being jealous out for now. It just seemed rather unimportant at the moment.

“You guys are brutal, you know? This much trouble over Matthew... I knew you’d make fun of me even more if you knew how... inexperienced I was.” (Y/N) sighed and looked towards her feet.

“You really think we’d make fun of you for being a virgin? We have moony for that!” Sirius cracked a joke hoping it’d lighten the mood a bit.

“No I think you’d make fun of me because I haven’t even been kissed. I’m sure not even Wormtail is that pathetic...” (Y/N) mimicked his idea of a joke, it seemed to work because he chuckled.

“That’s not pathetic... it’s hot.” Sirius waited until she was looking back up at him before he continued. “But if you’re so worried, I would be more than happy to help you out.”

(Y/N) thought about it... she always had a little crush on Sirius, but honestly she assumed most girls did (he was quite handsome). Would this ruin their friendship? It seemed doubtful, even if there was a new tension between them it would probably run its course and/or Sirius would go out of his way to make sure a comfortable air returned. He was a fiercely loyal friend. “Okay.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. As long as he had been waiting for this moment, he would’ve just slammed his lips into hers, but considering it was her first kiss, he opted for a more gentle approach. He grabbed her waist with one hand and pulled her to him, and laid one on her. His lips were firm but soft against hers, and acting purely on instinct and a little bit of what she had seen in books, magazines and movies when she wrapped her arms around him. Sirius smiled against his lips; he took the kiss a step further and gently flicked his tongue across hers and swept it in when she parted them in surprise.

(Y/N) was going with the flow... that was the best she could think of. She wasn't completely naive to what was going on. She was seventeen years old; she'd had thoughts and heard talk and being half-blood there was no shortage of information available to her when she was home for the summer... she’d learned a few things, of course reading/watching and actually doing were two different things. Sirius thought she must’ve been a liar or a natural, because it was one of the best kisses he’d had in awhile (perhaps who it was with helped too).

Breathless, the two parted and Sirius being Sirius had to speak first, “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Oh, shut up...” (Y/N) blushed. Sirius... always the jokester.

“As you wish.” Sirius leaned down and kissed her again. He was pleased to see she immediately reacted to him; briefly he was worried he might've been overstepping a boundary. She had agreed to a first kiss not a second one, but that worry melted away quickly.

(Y/N) slowly felt her nerousness disappate, and she moved naturally with him. Sirius carefully backed the girl into one of the dusty desks, and helped her up by grabbing her thighs and lifting. She instinctively wrapped her legs around him, and once she was safely on top she loosened her grip on him. Sirius instead pushed himself closer to her and grabbed her thighs again to keep her wrapped around him. (Y/N) had no problem obliging  his request, he clearly knew what he was doing and was happy to learn.

Her robes were pushed off of her shoulders and she shook her arms out of the sleeves. There were still entirely too many layers for his liking but he didn’t have to worry about it too much... (Y/N) immediately loosened her tie and broke away to peel off her sweater. Sirius too her absence to play catch up, discarding every article of clothing that she had, plus one (he never liked that stupid tie).

(Y/N) let out a soft moan when Sirius’ mouth found her neck. The noise egged him, his gentle nips because a little harsher; perhaps he was secretly hoping to leave a mark on her flesh. His fingers worked on the buttons on her shirt and being the gentleman he was he helped her out of it.

Sirius paused for look at her. Her skin was flushed and her lips swollen, and she was completely bare from the waist up except for the tie that hung between her breasts. “Blood hell, (Y/N)...”

She would’ve assumed she would have been embarrassed in the situation, but oddly enough, (Y/N) felt more excited than anything else. She could see that the front of his trousers fit a little tighter than they did when they first walked into the room and she knew Sirius well enough to know they look on his face was not a displeased one. Feeling the slightest bit confident, she leaned back on her elbows and let him take in the sight. She found herself disappointed when he didn’t kiss her again, instead he leaned in ghosting his lips across hers while he began working on removing his own shirt, “Has anyone seen you like this?”

“No,” (Y/N) whimpered, ready for him to touch her again.

“I’m the only who’s got to kiss you, the only one who’s gotten to see your body, to touch it. Do you have any idea how much that turns me on?” Sirius growled against her ear.

“No, but you could show me.” That was all it took to make Sirius snap. They’d definitely be missing Potions today, but screw it. Remus and Lily would probably share their notes after a good scolding.

His lips found hers again and in a flash they were gone. Abandoning hers for a new adventure. (Y/N) didn’t mind one bit in fact she was in favor of his endeavor. A shiver shot through her spine when his tongue flicked across her hardened nipple. And her nails dug into the wood of the desk when he took it in his mouth. Another low moan fell from her lips while he used his hands and his mouth to turn her mind foggy.

Sirius let his other hand slip under her skirt, he teased her through her damp underwear for a few moments, but then slipped his fingers past them and into her. Sirius pumped his fingers into her, hopefully getting her more familiar with the sensation and getting her to relax. His original plan was to go torturously slow until she begged for him, but he found his own self palming his erection for a little relief. When she moaned out his name, that was enough for him.

He worked fast to get the rest of their clothes off. (Y/N) felt like she was in a daze, intoxicated by everything he was doing to her, because the next thing she knew she felt Sirius rubbing his cock against her, getting himself well lubricated for the next step. “You sure this is what you want?”

Unable to form words she nodded and screwed her eyes shut when he began to slide into her. It wasn’t entirely bad at all; different, and an adjustment but absolutely tolerable. Sirius on the other hand was having to will himself to keep his cool, a low groan erupted from his throat as he fully sheathed himself inside the girl. Soon enough he’d be able to properly drive into her until she couldn’t stand to walk, but that’d be another time. This time, her first time he pulled out slowly, enjoying the way she made his dick glisten.

(Y/N) thought that perhaps sex was a bit over hyped in the cosmopolitan magazines her mother got, but slowly her body began to adjust. She began to enjoy the slow drag of him pulling out and then pushing back in and then when he quickened his pace it was nothing less than pleasurable. When Sirius felt her relax he began to adjust his thrusts, still not pounding her into oblivion, but fast enough they’d both be satisfied. Sirius reached between them teasing the bundle of nerves between her legs, he rubbed until (Y/N) let out a strangled cry and he felt her tighten around him.

His hips snapped a little quicker and his rhythm became a little more sporadic as he felt a familiar feeling getting closer. Sirius focused on the girl in front of him, she was still riding out her her high and utterly awe-striking, he couldn’t believe what he was doing. Watching her writhe beneath him brought him closer and it wasn’t long before he gave into the pleasure himself; thrusting a few more times before stilling himself inside of her.

“Wow... I see why people enjoy that so much.” (Y/N) let out an exhausted laugh.

“I’d like to put in a formal request that I be the only one you do this with.” Sirius chuckled along with her, but not because he was joking, “I’ve never been that great at sharing.”

“As long as you’re aware I feel the same, Black.”

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream V // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen-year-old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, heartbreak, fluff, talk of death and fluff.

Words: 4.4k

A/N: We’ve come to the end of the Distant Dream mini-series. I truly enjoyed writing this with my whole heart. @merceret I told you I’d use Lucy’s Cordial somewhere in the series. All parts are located in the linked masterlist.

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Masterlist

The massive changes between the ’90s and 2021 slowly but surely started no longer seemed startling as it had been at first. Carlos had helped you assimilate to homeschooling once he’d admitted he knew about the boys. Ray was still kept in the dark. 

2020 ended on a high note. Mostly. With the years in Narnia providing you with the knowledge you flew through schooling. Then you took a job as a waitress at a coffee shop, one similar to the shop the band performed in. The downside to the end of the year was for the band.

Despite performing at the Orpheum, the band hadn’t received as much traction as Luke had desired. They were a step closer to the dream but not as far as the entire band had wished. During Julie’s Christmas break, Luke had overworked the band with little breaks.

“Hide me.” Julie hissed from behind the counter of Ancient Grounds. The Puerto Rican musician escaped the studio to have lunch with you.

Unfortunately, Julie failed to see that without the entire band together, Luke would go to what makes him just as happy. You. That’s precisely what happened as Luke walked in through the entrance of the coffee shop.

“He’s still pushing more practice?” You asked, stacking the clean mugs on the shelf with complete focus. How odd it is to go from being Queen to working in a city as a waitress.

“I love him like a brother, but I feel like my fingers are gonna fall off from playing the piano constantly.” Julie sighed, sliding down the counter to sit on the floor hidden from the approaching guitarist and from your manager.

“Hey!” Luke grinned once his hands fell on the counter to lean over on the balls of his feet. His lips pressed against your right cheek before he fell back onto his feet.

Not a single soul in the half-full Ancient Grounds batted an eye to your awkward stance when Luke kissed you. Not since the boys had become tangible and visible to the general public when they wanted. 

“Look to decide to grace me with his presence.” You teased. Your foot nudged Julie in her thigh to urge her to crawl to the end of the counter.

“I have no clue where Julie is. Reggie dipped to join Ray in his errands, and Alex is somewhere.” Luke shrugged, stepping aside when an older gentleman dropped a tip in the jar before leaving.

“Pick a number.” You told the male with one of your dimples on display.

“Eleven,” Luke responded, bouncing on the balls of his feet at the regular game you played together.

Each visit, you’d split a dessert from the menu with Luke along with his favourite mug of tea and your drink of choice; even he knew he didn’t need caffeine with his energy. That was Luke’s favourite thing of being brought half alive from the golden glow they’d received. You were sure Reggie had cried upon eating your Tia’s best recipe.

“Nanaimo Bar Cheesecake. A limited-edition from our Worldwide Treat menu. It’s Canada’s month.” 

Luke followed to the counter’s end, where the sweets were kept on a glass viewing shelf. With careful movements, you slid a perfect triangle of the cheesecake onto a beautiful plate. The half-ghost retrieved it to your favourite spot in the garden patio. Julie used the time to sneak out the door with Luke’s back to her.

“What is a Nanaimo Bar?” Luke questioned upon you joining him at the iron-wrought table. One teacup accompanied by a teapot with Luke’s tea and a mug of your drink on an emerald tray.

“It’s a no-bake dessert. The base is a chocolate graham cracker and coconut base with the middle layer a cream filling. The top layer is a thin layer of semi-sweet chocolate.” 

Luken nodded, “Ancient Grounds loves cheesecakes.”

“Addie adores inventing new versions of cheesecake. Her best is the Creamsicle Cheesecake during the summer. A staple on the menu.” You responded with a twinkle in your eye. You may not look like the Queen you once were, but you were just as invested in learning about people as you’d done with the Narnians.

“What’s your favourite dessert?” Luke questioned.

“I’m pretty partial to the chocolate cookies Addie makes.” You grinned, leaning closer to the male across from you. You hesitated in continuing, “In Narnia, the pastry chef Cair Paravel employed always had these gorgeous desserts with Edmund in mind. Turkish Delights with a secret ingredient.”

Luke’s smile grew as you talked about the other home you had. A place you rarely spoke about now. You hadn’t even returned to the basement to see the wardrobe like you had before.

“I wish I could have seen Cair Paravel. It always sounds so magical when you talk about it.” Luke’s tone was wistful paired with the twinkle of his hazel eyes.

“It’s a breathtaking place. Everything is lively in Narnia, and after the Witch was defeated, we ruled peacefully for the most part.” Your e/c eyes unfocused on your surroundings to recall all the wonderful times spent in Narnia.

The times you shared a table with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver in their home over the years snacking on the homemade jams. To the times you listened to Mr. Tumnus playing everchanging lullabies on his flute. Even walking the beaches with Lucy in hopes of catching sight of Aslan again. Of gossiping with Susan over the many suitors that came for her hand.

“If you could do it all over again knowing the outcome, would you still do it?” Luke questioned with a tilt of his head. He’d shed the flannel jacket as the sun rose higher in the sky.

You nodded, “Absolutely. The Pevensies were some of the greatest friends one could ever hope to have.”

As usual, Peter wasn’t spoken of in light of the ache that resonated in your heart and the awkwardness Luke felt. A poor choice of avoiding your once husband instead of communicating on the topic.

“Have you ever thought of trying to find them?”

“No point. Peter would be ninety-seven now as the oldest, and Lucy would be eighty-nine. If I recall, it was 1940 for them when we went to Narnia. It’s possible Peter may have joined the war in ’42 when he was eighteen, so who knows if he lived.” Luke was surprised by the nonchalant reaction to the potentially grim outlook on your former in-laws.

However, Luke knew the truth, that you greatly missed the four people who became family during your disappearance. You could fool Julie and Reggie, but you could never fool Alex or Luke no matter how much you tried.

“I’ll see you at home? My break ended.” You swiftly cut off any more talking of your former life. Luke merely watched as you stacked the dirty dishes, only leaving Luke’s cup and teapot.

“I should get back. Julie’s most likely back in the garage from sneaking back.” Luke’s hand pushed through his messy curtain of brunette hair. His words revealing that he’d known Julie had been in Ancient Grounds the entire time.

“How’d-”

“When she sits on the floor, she taps the heel of her shoe on the floor. Same rhythm.” Luke smirked as he chugged the last of the tea, “Don’t tell her. I like when she fights a smug smile with that certain light in her eyes.”

The brotherly role Luke had taken on with the Molina girl was heartwarming, to say the least. Sometimes Julie would begrudgingly ask for advice about her feelings for Nick to Luke’s amusement. He adored being able to tease her.

“I’ll see you later.” 

The boy dropped the correct change for the tea on his way out the door into the bright sunlight. Like clockwork, he’d turn into the alley to become intangible to poof back to the studio. 

The rest of the day passed by like a breeze in the coffee shop with the late lunch rush and then the dinner rush the busiest time. Jess gave you a ride home in her truck as usual with a promise of a cupcake of Julie’s as payment.

“Did you see him?” 

The sudden voice startled you so much your hand couldn’t help but grasp at empty air by your side. Alex screeched as you swung to face him on the Molina driveway.

“Alex! Good Aslan, you startled me.”

“...were you reaching for a sword?” Alex questioned, appalled by your reaction. Your e/c eyes rolled in response.

“Isn’t the saying old habits die hard?” You prodded the baby blue of Alex’s long sleeve shirt. One of the shirts you’d often stolen from him, “And no. I didn’t see Willie.”

Your heart clenched as soon as Alex’s shoulders dropped in defeat once more at the absence of the skater. It had been months now with little sightings of the skater you had yet to meet. The boys kept your presence on the down-low to avoid Caleb’s interest.

“I hope he’s okay,” Alex muttered under his breath. The elder Mercer began gnawing his lower lip in worry.

Gently you interlaced your hand with his hand, his deft fingers playing with the braided bracelets on your wrist. The bracelets had been a Christmas gift from Julie and Flynn with the colours of the sunrise. It grounded Alex more often than not.

“You told me the Club travels around the world. Maybe Caleb’s not in America; maybe his ego needs to recover from his loss.” You shrugged, tugging the teenager into the house. Ray barely waved from his work computer.

Ray Molina had welcomed Alex, Reggie and Luke into the family when he met them in person the day after the Orpheum performance. He’d accepted that Alex was your older brother and had been in Switzerland for boarding school. He understood that Luke and Reggie came as a package deal with Alex, so the boys had worked to clean out the basement.

A few visits to second-hand doors brought furniture for the basement renovated into the boys’ shared suite. Alex still spent most nights in your room; he still feared you'd disappear from his life again.

“I hope you’re right.” Alex muttered in false hope that something would go his way for once, “Oh! The band received an invitation to some underground music festival in England during spring break. We’re hoping to convince Ray and Julie’s aunt to let us go.”

And you could see the band practices would be growing for that breakthrough with the band. And you were correct in your guess merely hours after going to sleep.

At five in the damn morning, Luke burst into your attic bedroom to drag your less than enthusiastic brother from his sleep. You bet your ass you hit the teen in the face with your pillow, which meant you had to crawl out of bed to retrieve the pillow.

“Asshole!” Alex exclaimed as Luke roughly poofed both of them to the studio. Julie swaying sleepily in her sweater and pyjama pants, waiting for the two.

Spring Break 2021 (March 26-April 2)

The youngest member of the tourists proudly displayed her smile, catching sight of the bed and breakfast in the English countryside. Julie had been floored when Ray had given his permission to the foreign festival. 

Ray couldn’t hide his excitement for the band, plus all-expense paid, receiving the invite via a relatively small record company. 

“First birthday back together,” Luke spoke from your side. Hands intertwined together in the cool wind of England. His arms were covered by his flannel coat in the unfavourable weather of the day.

You hummed, “Never thought I’d be celebrating my seventeenth birthday in England during 2021. Besides, I’ve already been seventeen.”

“I always knew I’d bring you to all the countries in the world.” Luke’s tone was matter of fact, staring at the stage being built under a woman’s guidance in her mid-30s.

The bed and breakfast had a lovely history your tour guide Martin had enthusiastically told on the train ride from the city. 

The man with spry greying hair pointed towards the old train station providing facts that interested most of the group. Luke’s arm tossed over your shoulder focused on the songbook, a new one, open in lap. Luke and you had slowly but surely evolved from shy brushes of skin to holding hands and then Luke’s arm over your shoulder. Chaste kisses on cheeks while you reassimilated into the dating world.

“In 1940, this train station deployed countless trains filled with evacuating children away from London during the Blitz. Filled with returning soldiers, mothers sending children to safety and children were torn from all they knew. Each child had a tag to identify them.” Martin explained intently, speaking to the group his organization had assigned him to.

“Where did they go?” Reggie curled into the travel blanket he’d bought specifically for the trip.

“Anywhere safe for them and where they could be cared for.”

“This route is one of many the evacuations used. The bed and breakfast we’re heading to holds a great history as well. It was once the Manor of Professor Digory Kirke during his life and passed down through generations throug-”

Martin’s story faded into the black abyss as sleep took you over by the soothing motion of the train and Luke’s warmth. Luke met the gaze of Alex. The two guys shared a sweet smile solely for the relaxed features of the younger Mercer.

“This is just another step in our journey for Julie and the Phantoms.” Your words warmed Luke Luke when he noticed you cemented your position in his life. You saw yourself in the future of Julie and the Phantoms as a faithful supporter and friend.

“Luke Patterson, correct? I’m Eva.” Your eyes widened, meeting the eyes that reminded you of someone. Just on the tip of your tongue, “My wife Diana will be a few minutes. We’re still getting the stage put together.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. How many people are you expecting?” Luke questioned the older woman. His mind snapped into business mode for the band.

“This is our fourth year putting on the festival at this location. This is the first year we added a wild card option for fans to vote on. Your band rocketed ahead of the other bands.” Eva explained, keeping her eyes on the woman you dubbed as Diana. The pure love in Eva’s eyes is a call to the yearning in your chest.

“I thought a recor-”

“Technically, yes, a record company flew you out. Diana started a small record label a few years back. Cair Oom Records. She’s the first person in both our families to step into a non-traditional career.” Eva explained to the now interesting young couple.

Luke was interested in the record label’s history, whereas you focused on the label’s name. Cair Oom. A call to your Narnia days you remembered. 

“Cair Oom?” You interrupted the conversation in pure curiosity. Your eyes drinking in the features of Eva, her freckles and brown eyes mirroring a person from your past.

“The label name?” Eva continued once you nodded in response, “It’s from a childhood story my family passed down. Diana was close to my great-aunt before we moved out here to run the bed and breakfast.”

“Of a dream of a dream. Spare Oom.” It was whispered in the breeze straight in your ear of a voice you vividly recalled—the disembodied voice with the same freckles as Eva but with chocolate brown hair instead of strawberry blonde.

“Y/N? You coming?” Luke’s concerned hazel eyes bore into your distant ones wandering the hills of the property. You hadn’t even noticed Eva leaving towards the Manor.

Your e/c eyes search for the owner of the youthful voice but come up empty. The only people you saw included your group with the odd workers setting up under Diana’s supervision.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Luke stepped right up in front of you, “You’ve been out of it since Eva mentioned the record label.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” You mumbled, following the woman up the path. Luke stared lost as you disappeared into the door. Eva entered.

The woman stood outside a door within the home, “I never knew what she meant. Not until I saw you Y/N.”

Your foot stumbled back when Eva turned with a soft smile you vividly recalled on a certain Pevensie. Eva unlocked the door to a room with only a picture hung on the wall.

“Narnia.” You breathed, stepping right up to the detailed painting of Cair Paravel. Your fingers tracing the beautiful frame holding it up.

“Correct. My Great-Aunt, in her adult life, adored painting in her past time. It was rare she told Narnian stories, but my mother loved them so much she told them to me as a child.

“Who’s your-”

“My name is Lucy Eva Baker. I was named after my other Great-Aunt, but I prefer going by Eva.” Eva’s words pulled a deep gasp from your throat. Tears building as the truth settled in the room.

Eva shared the same smile and brown eyes as Edmund Pevensie did, even the mature aura wrapped around her. The maturity Edmund had grown into during the fifteen years in Narnia. Without a shadow of a doubt, Eva Baker was the granddaughter of your former brother-in-law.

“Your-”

“Edmund’s granddaughter.” Eva finished with a sympathetic smile, “You featured heavily in each story. I always knew Narnia wasn’t merely a story.”

And then the conversation stuttered when you finally noticed Eva spoke mostly of learning of everything by her mom and Susan. Not a mention passed Edmund being her granddad. A piece of your heart broke, and it seemed the older woman saw it happen.

“W-what happened to…” You couldn’t even choke the question out in the room. Eva’s hand reached out to grasp yours in her own hand.

“I can’t tell you much as that reason that will become clear but in 1949 just shortly before my mom was born there was an accident. Grandpa Edmund and Peter were waiting for the train at the station. The train wrecked, killing the train occupants and many people in the station.” Eva was quick to catch you as a piercing grief-stricken scream exploded in the room.

In the Manor’s tea room, the band and Ray enjoyed a genuine tea time with Diana. Ray and Diana traded stories of their young sons while Reggie restrained himself to savour the food. English tea time begging for genuine manners.

Luke raised his cup to lips before it dropped to the saucer upon an exploding anguished wail from upstairs. Thankfully the cup didn’t break as the American guitarist sprung himself in the direction of the wails—Alex hot on his heels with a call to his friends.

Your screaming drowned out the furious stomps of feet racing in the halls of the Manor to the entrance of the room. Luke’s heart shattered at the pure anguish coating your broken features. Alex roughly pushed his way to tug you into his arms.

Alex’s large hand cupped the back of your head while he rocked you in his arms, “Shh. Let it out.”

“No!” You screamed into Alex’s shoulder. You couldn’t acknowledge Luke’s comforting hand on your shoulder, “N-no.”

“I got you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Alex murmured in your ear so softly you almost didn’t catch what he said. Luke dropped to his knees by your side. The three teens unaware as Eva excused herself for your privacy. Eva had watched her great-aunt Susan break every time she spoke of her late siblings.

Seconds passed or maybe years as it seemed to happen to you. But soon, you simply rested against Alex staring at Susan’s painting. Barely blinking in the room causing you suffering. You barely responded to anyone as you battled the grief. You faded in and out of daydreams as the bands performed. Days mixed together. Time didn’t exist to you. You were aware enough when Julie and Ray invited you to shop in London.

To everyone, including your surprise, you agreed. The three half ghosts joining in fear you’d shatter again. Eva and Diana held hands watching the car disappear in the distance carrying a group of musicians. An echo of Eva’s words replacing in the back of your mind.

“Three of five drink at high tide. Four of nine and five of nine stand apart by time. A drop of Valiant’s potion will begin the time once before frozen.” 

“Are they-”

“Yes.” Eva spoke before her wife could finish the sentence, “She’ll be returning to Narnia. Decades separating her from the Pevensie siblings.”

Eva was correct. At the station, the location was painful as it was Lucy, Peter and Edmund’s last place they’d been alive. Ray disappeared to use the restroom, leaving the five teenagers to wait for the adult.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, rubbing a spot on your arm with a grimace. Your eyes glaring at your tall older brother, “Don’t pinch me!”

Alex shook his head, “I didn’t pinch you!”

“Luke!” Reggie squealed, jumping away from the guitarist with a pout on his full lips. The bassist rubbing his stinging cheek, “These cheeks are reserved for my Grannie!”

Luke scoffed at his friend, “Why would I risk the chance of you biting off my finger Reginald?”

“We have bigger problems than whose pinching us! I’m losing my damn mind! First three himbos fall out of nowhere, then a girl trips out a magic wardrobe and now this!” Julie snapped, staring at their environment in the train station tunnel, “I need to be committed!”

You watched breathlessly as a strong gale storm literally tore pieces of the train and the walls of the station apart. Through the train windows, you watched as a bright blue sky increasingly grew. The colour is so clear and vivid in only one place you knew.

The train blew by. The wall behind you changed into stone—the floor into the sand.

“What the fuck?” Alex demanded, twirling around on the new scenery of a beach in what was supposed to be a train station. The poor male kept being thrown off-kilter since the alley in 1995.

You knew deep in your heart where you were. Especially when four people of different heights stood with their backs to you. One individual, the shortest, turns upon feeling eyes on her back. And at the same time, you spoke.

“Lucy!”

“Y/N!”

The two girls ran straight into each other’s arms sobbing in elation and relief at finally seeing each other after a long year apart. The seven additional people who joined the duo collapsed on the ground. Alex cleared his throat.

“Y/N? Are you going to intro-”

“That’s Queen Y/N.” Peter snapped towards the stranger with a pink sweater on. Peter could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen a man wear pink. 

“That’s my sister.” Alex snapped, standing at his full six-foot height, pinning a glare on the other teenager. Peter scoffed in response. His face faltering upon finding your hand encased in a male shorter than the blonde.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Peter knew this man was the unseen third person that filled every conversation and room between Peter and Y/N. Peter was very much aware that you weren’t in love with him. He lived with the knowledge for a decade, pretending it was he that you deeply loved. Seeing the person holding your heart hurt.

“This is my brother Alex Mercer and our friends Julie Molina, Reggie Peters and my...this is Luke Patterson.” You gestured to each of them; the Puerto Rican musician shell shocked. Julie now knew why that talking lion you spoke of sounded familiar. Narnia had seen one other visitor years before Julie was born.

Rose Molina’s bedtime stories for her children involved a lion named Aslan and a magical wardrobe made from a special tree. Julie recalled the feeling Narnia birthed if in the world as Rose described it. 

“Mercer as in...?” Edmund trailed off slowly.

“My horse. Yes. I guess subconsciously, I still remembered where I came from.”

“These are my friends Susan, Edmund, Lucy and...Peter.” You softly spoke of the eldest Pevensie. His blue eyes sadly meeting yours.

A fondness growing at the sight but a pain blossoming at the heartbreak in his features. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see Peter had put two and two together on who Luke was to you. And while Peter desired to fight for you, he knew it was a lost cause; time cruelly separated you outside the world of Narnia. You both deserved happiness, so with great pain, Peter let you go.

“C’mon!” Lucy shouted, racing out of the cave on the bright sunny beach. The rest hot on the heels of the youngest member of the conjoined group. As you all goofed around on the beach, you told the Pevensie family all about Julie and the boys.

“Welcome to Narnia, my love.” You murmured to the boy that held your heart in his gentle hands. Luke Patterson beamed. He finally got the girl of his dreams and visited the place you hold dear.

The fun aspect of being in Narnia with both of your family came to a halt when you discovered the ruins. Cair Paravel had become a pile of broken stone and sadness. Not a single Narnian in the distance nor the Beavers or Mr. Tumnus.

“What?”

Julie and the boys’ presence became static in the background while the former Narnia royalty pursued through the ruins. They found the chessboard and the gifts Father Christmas gave them during the Winter Revolution. 

Something clicked within Lucy as she almost robotically walked to each half-dead boy with her Cordial in hand. The room went silent as Lucy fed each phantom a drop of the medicinal potion. As soon as Alex closed his mouth, all three boys were enveloped in a blinding silver light.

And the true magic happened. For the first time in twenty-six years, three hearts began pumping blood. A previously frozen clock began beating to the sound of those hearts. The magic of Queen Lucy’s Cordial finished what Julie had started; the three formerly half head phantoms became living humans once more.

What a magical place the world of Narnia is.

(Above is the teacup and pot Luke uses in the Ancient Grounds coffee shop!)

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Julie and the Phantoms Taglist

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9-1-1 Taglist:

[agentrouka-blog]

Tysha and Lyanna - buried shame, buried treasure

Vaguely prodding at my next Tysha Murder Mystery post, and it just occurs to me that there is a lot of Lyanna in this mess.

A young woman, potentially a “whore”, the subject of longing and regret. A lie hid her true nature, and a brother eventually reveals it: she was not a whore and her love was real, in spite of the “deformities” of its subject (dwarf, child by rape).

The revelation of this truth prompts a confrontation between son and “father” and leads to “patricide”.

"Words won't make your mother a whore. She was what she was, and nothing Toad says can change that. You know, we have men on the Wall whose mothers were whores."

Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind. (AGOT, Jon III)

Like Tyrion, Jon struggles with the idea that the woman haunting him is a whore. Ned’s lie certainly made her “false” to him, but words cannot change her nature and deep down Jon knows. Unlike Tyrion, who deep down never believed.

I had feared it from the start, from the moment you first smiled at me and let me touch your hand. My own father could not love me. Why would you if not for gold? (ADWD, Tyrion V)

Jon tries to accept the same thought Tyrion so bitterly clings to.

Even his own mother had not had a place for him. The thought of her made him sad. He wondered who she had been, what she had looked like, why his father had left her. Because she was a whore or an adulteress, fool. Something dark and dishonorable, or else why was Lord Eddard too ashamed to speak of her? (AGOT, Jon V)

Being a whore is supposedly the only explanation for her actions and his father’s.

It would be good to see Arya's grin again and to talk with his father. I will ask him about my mother, he resolved. I am a man now, it is past time he told me. Even if she was a whore, I don't care, I want to know. (AGOT, Jon VII)

Unlike Tyrion, this is the conclusion he arrives at. He doesn’t care. And his mother’s face is more familiar than he knows...

Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, he'd heard men call the whores "buried treasures." He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care. (AGOT, Jon IX)

Who is down in a cave learning secrets of the past? A brother. Who is in Oldtown with access to secret documents? A “brother”. Who has likely brought an eye witness (Ashara = Lemore) to the aftermath of Jon’s birth back to the shores of Westeros? A brother. Add his “uncle-brother” Benjen and the only person not a “brother” who may reveal this information is Howland Reed.

Jon’s mother is a buried treasure, alright. Buried in the crypts of Winterfell.

Of course, much like Jon’s secret is two-fold (parentage and legitimacy), so is Tyrion’s.

Was Tysha a whore? This question was answered by a brother. No, she was not.

But where do whores go? Underground, buried. Beneath the castle where it all began.

A song haunts Tyrion and he had the singer killed.

When Penny giggled, she sounded like the sweet young girl she was … seventeen, eighteen, no more than nineteen. "What did he do, this singer?"

"He wrote a song about me." For she was his secret treasure, she was his shame and his bliss. And a chain and a keep are nothing, compared to a woman's kiss. It was queer how quick the words came back to him. Perhaps they had never left him. Hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm.

"It must have been a very bad song." (ADWD, Tyrion VIII)

Buried treasure, buried shame.

A very bad song about Tyrion.

(The fact hat the show had Lannister soldier Ed Sheeran sing that song to Arya, who’s first words on the show were “Where’s the Imp?”, makes me more certain than ever that Tyrion will meet justice at Arya’s hands and Tysha’s murder will be the crime he eventually answers for, of only indirectly.)

[starsallalight]

@dreamcrs : Jacqueline & Danielle

"Danielle..." Jacqueline whispered, closing the door behind her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, showing the rush she'd been in to get here. "I came as quickly as I could. You... You were right."

Rubbing her lips together, the lady-in-waiting, the sister, handed her mistress, family, the paper. The proof of their suspicions...

"Henry won't be back for a fortnight. What do we do? Should I write to Phillip? Ask him to come and aid us?"

[chunhua-s]

congrats on your milestone event!!! id like to request for kita soulmate!au with angst to fluff genre 👉👈 yknow sumn rejection shit bcs im hopeless like that wehee once again congrats! and i love your writing style :3

anon you’re gonna make me cry 🥺 seriously i’m happy you enjoy my writing and that you think my style’s okay! most of the time i go off of what kind of feelings i get when i’m writing or the imagery that comes up in my head and i’m never sure that it translates well enough for you guys to feel or see the same thing. hopefully as i keep writing then i’ll be able to show you guys what’s on my mind better when i’m writing! thank you again for requesting — seriously, it means a lot! and like always, you guys, don’t be afraid to come and talk to me on and off anon! your interactions mean a lot, especially for content creators! we love hearing what you all think, what you like/dislike about our work, what you think of certain characters — absolutely anything! come and talk with us more whenever you can 💕

writing for kita feels calming somehow. normally the things that come up in my chest or my mind when i write gets nearly overwhelming if that makes sense? like i’ll have to pause and remind myself to breathe because it takes up so much of my attention that i kinda get lost, but with kita, it feels more flowey to me. it’s not demanding but more like a gentle coaxing kind of thing or like looking at the surface of a calm river. i was initially scared to write for him because i was worried i wouldn’t get him right, but i feel satisfied with how this turned out, i think. i hope you guys will find it as calming as i found it too! it might not be exactly what you wanted, but because i had already written the rejection of a person for atsumu’s soulmate oneshot, i wanted to play around with kita’s character and make it instead the rejection of a concept/idea? which would indirectly lead to him... you know, rejecting his soulmate initially, but— ahhhhhh it might make sense to just read it!! these rambles keep getting longer and longer :v i’m sorry for that!! please go ahead and read and tell me what you think in the end! 💕

NOTNING MORE THAN HUMAN ➽ KITA SHINSUKE x READER

genre: angst to fluff

au: soulmate

warnings: none

shinsuke kita is human.

and of course, that much is obvious. he isn’t a machine that’s incapable of feelings and emotions, whose heart is unfamiliar with melodies of an overwhelming joy, or the quiet hymns of deep rooted sadness. his skin still burns under righteous fury and anger, his tongue still weighs heavy under hesitance and silent worries. at the end of every long day, he’s still human.

it’s because he’s human that the words on his collarbone feel so heavy, as if they might cave into the bone and destroy him under their weight. it’s because he’s human that the sight of black markings in the mirror clouds his mind with a new kind of fear and worry. shinsuke kita is human, but he’s long since taught himself how to abandon anxiety and nervousness. he surrounds himself in familiar routines that calm the turbulent voices of doubt, he builds habits that ground him to the earth lest he should be swept away by the current. shinsuke has taught himself not to be afraid for the things that will happen everyday, but meeting his soulmate isn’t one of those things he can prepare for.

it’s a strange concept, he considers to himself. shinsuke doesn’t believe in words like fate or destiny, doesn’t care for the higher powers that should judge his actions. as far as he’s concerned, his own will is what dictates where his life goes — he’s in control, and that’s how it’s always been for him. let the gods watch, if they must, but he’s already decided that he’ll live by what is right, and he wouldn’t dare falter in the face of it. and yet — and it’s such a strange thing for him to do so — he pauses under the notion of a soulmate, of a destined partner who’s supposedly bound to him for as long as he should live. at first, he hadn’t given the idea much thought; it wouldn’t serve any purpose to worry about something that would happen whether or not he wants it, he decided. the truth of it is inevitable, just as the leaves must fall in autumn and the earth should be buried under clouds of white in winter. shinsuke is human — what more can he do but to accept it?

the black words that spread across his skin like droplets of ink became the bitter seeds of doubt that he hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it? the sentence by itself is so bland, like something maybe aran or anyone else might say to him in passing, and at first, it didn’t shake him too much, until he was caught one day under a sudden summer storm. seventeen year old kita somehow found himself stranded beneath a small shelter, where the wooden covering could protect him more than his umbrella until the rain passed. it was nearly unconscious, but he somehow found himself on edge, his breath faltered with the harsh pitter patter of rainfall that tumbled from green leaves and tore ripples from the surface of the lake. shinsuke kita found himself with a stomach full of butterflies and a thundering heartbeat that stole him away from solace and calm, cast the peace that he would so often carry with him away and left him stranded among chopping waves. every trembling breath he took stung on cold air and left him with a burning feeling on his lungs. it’s unfamiliar in its presence and shakes him to his core, but shinsuke kita is reminded of his own humanity when he realizes that what he feels, is anticipation and nervousness.

and it’s an odd thing. as he becomes aware of it, he finds himself twisting his fingers together during spring time; he worries his bottom lip between his teeth during unexpected showers. he feels like a child who stands in line to ride a roller coaster for the first time in his life — wide-eyed and drowning in the millions of feelings that race throughout his body. the feeling itself is nothing new, though it’s unfamiliar and intense in its ferocity and demand, seizes his heart and squeezes so tightly that whenever it rains, he’s left breathless.

it’s almost enough to drive him mad.

his very foundation seems to fall apart with the thunder that rolls across grey skies. for every drop of rain that hits the pavement, he finds himself a jittery mess as his heartbeat tears through his chest. the man who taught himself to abandon his fears reverts into the young boy who watched out for god, for the higher beings who watched his every move. and the thought that comes with every brilliant bolt of lightning burns him just as hotly, invasive and demanding when it flashes through his mind on a single, low whisper:

will you be happy?

shinsuke kita is human. he learns as he sees and lives as he’s learned, and what he saw growing up was that soulmates were bounded together till death do them part. a connection that’s set deep in stone, never to be erased by unforgiving weather and to persevere during the cruelest of storms. it’s an inevitable reality that the gods designed, so that mortals like himself should dance on stage and tell them a story. but shinsuke knows that not all these stories have a happy ending.

there are plays that end in tragedy and loss, those that only knew memories of pain and sang with death’s violin. man becomes the actor to a play that he has no choice in and dances on the puppet master’s strings, he surrenders control and gives himself up to the music, and he has no way of knowing the end of it until the curtains should fall. shinsuke has never been one to lay down his will, and yet, as winter melts once more into gray rain clouds and scattered showers, he’s reminded of his mortality, of the fate that’s been sealed away in the falling of rain. shinsuke kita is human, and so he must, like all men do, bend to fate’s will and never utter a word against her.

and for a long time, the sentiment caused him to completely reject the idea of a soulmate.

that feeling of helplessness that would wash over him with the rain turned into a bitterness that crushed his lungs between tightened fist. the acceptance of an inevitable waltz — whether it be to eternal happiness or to a cruel melody — turned into rebellious loathing that spat in the face of destiny. it’s entirely childish in its tale, like a toddler throwing a tantrum because he doesn’t want to give up his precious toy. that toy is his control, the power he had to live his life by his truth, not by that of a higher being. he’s human, after all, and humans are selfish and resentful by nature.

he finds himself with a heavy chest today, as well, as he waits for the pouring rain to subside. the small shelter in the middle of the garden park is familiar, and carries with it the memories of his epiphany, the one that created thunder storms in his once tranquil heart, and for that, he hates this place. the sound of the rain hitting the roof is like nails scratching against the chalkboard; the sound of droplets hitting the lake like an annoying whining that he can’t get out of his head. shinsuke curses this little pocket away from the world with all the childish anger in the world — let it be damned that doing so wouldn’t change anything. for once, he let himself go on a petty grudge against the universe, and against that looming stage and its heavy curtains.

it’s nearly faint, but he picks up on the patter-patter of footfalls that quickly approach him, and he turns bronze coloured eyes to find your rain-drenched figure running for shelter under the little gazebo. you’re out of breath by the time you make it underneath, letting out an exhausted and frustrated sigh as you press your hands to your knees, and shinsuke finds himself sympathizing with the way you bitterly push your hair from your face. you’re an ordinary office worker, from what he can see; you’ve hidden what looks to be a messenger back beneath your coat, leaving you to tremble in a thin button-up. this day’s downpour had been sudden, unexpected as spring would soon surrender to the approaching summer, and he imagines that he would have been in a similar position as yourself had he not packed his umbrella beforehand.

a silence settles over the both of you that’s only broken by the heavy rain, but the presence of it is so soothing that shinsuke finds himself breathing on a lighter air. suddenly the smell of petrichor turns sweeter, the melody of raindrops melting into a distant lullaby, and for the first time, shinsuke feels his heart melt under an indescribable sense of warmth despite the weather. and when your eyes turn to find his, a helpless grin on your lips, he feels that warmth explode under summer fireworks and coarse throhgh his veins like liquid lightning.

“it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it?”

for the second time in his life, shinsuke has an epiphany under the shelter in the garden.

he feels every bit of resentment vanish on a sudden gust of wind, one that sends raindrops splashing against his skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. not when grey clouds suddenly reveal to him pillars of sunlight that embrace your figure and makes you glow against a background of green leaves. the rain turns into something sweet and enticing, and it suddenly gives shinsuke this unexplainable urge to grab your hand and dance with you underneath the pouring showers, where he can hear your voice ring out on chimes of laughter and innocent bliss. in mere seconds, he manages to let go of the dark clouds that he’d unintentionally harboured on his chest, he let them burst with the weight of anger and childish fury so that they would hit the earth on giant droplets of rain.

shinsuke kita is human — he’s imperfect, mortal. he feels and he thinks and he speaks what’s on his mind. he can hate, and he can love: he can make that decision on whether or not to hold useless grudges and to curse a destiny he can’t change, or to welcome that inevitability with the willingness to learn and grow.

today, as he stands beneath a wooden shelter, hiding from the heavy rains, he decides to stretch his hand out and let the water hit his skin.

davi hits 200 followers — haikyuu!! au writing event! 💕

taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @bootylikepeachy @tsumue

send an ask to be added!

[angela-anaconda-was-a-lesbian]

We’ve spoken time and time again about how Instagram and influencer culture is so incredibly toxic and destructive for young girls of this generation, but one thing that I don’t think anybody has brought up is this: when I was a teenager, I saw countless "very special episodes” of sitcoms/teen dramas about fashion magazines and how they affect teenaged girls, especially in regards to low self esteem and eating disorders. Full House immediately comes to mind, but there are so many others, like That’s So Raven, Lizzie McGuire, and Degrassi. In the Full House episode, DJ is preparing for an upcoming pool party and wants to look like the models in her favorite fashion magazines, so she goes on a crash diet and participates in dangerous levels of exercise. But by the end of the episode, she learns that “real girls” don't look like supermodels and that she’s beautiful just the way she is yada yada yada.

What also became popular when I was a teenager were those thinkpiece videos about photo manipulating that companies like Dove were putting out, like this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYhCn0jf46U

I remember watching this very video in a health class at school. It showed that models were manipulated and Photoshopped into unrecognizable versions of themselves and that nobody looks like the glossy finished products that you see in ad campaigns. I started to become very critical of media that I saw, especially print media advertisements, and honestly videos like that had a good effect on my overall confidence and body image.

What scares me is that teenagers right now aren’t seeing these messages of perfection from models and fashion magazines. They’re seeing them from their fellow peers on Instagram. I see Instagram accounts of a few normal teenagers right now (they were kids I used to be a camp counselor for) and it’s insane how differently they use social media than they way I did when I was a teenager, pre-Instagram. Every photo is filtered to perfection. Every girl is wearing flawless makeup. All of the poses are slightly suggestive. 

When I was a teenager a decade ago, even the most popular girls in my class uploaded tons of silly pictures to their Facebook accounts, taken on crappy digital cameras that give red eye or on that old iPhoto app, and these photos showed their braces and pimples and hairs out of place. And sure, teens now sometimes upload photos like that, but when they do they put them on their “finstas”, their password-protected private accounts that only a few others can see.

I saw my real peers on Facebook. And while Facebook in the height of its popularity was far from perfect it did show a semblance of the truth. Teen girls nowadays are savvy enough to know that models in magazines are manipulated and Photoshopped, but what about the normal kids that they see on Instagram? They no longer think, “I’m not a Photoshopped fashion model, so I don’t need to look like that girl I saw in Seventeen” and now think “I’m a normal fifteen-year-old girl, why don't I look like that other normal girl from my math class with perfect hair and makeup?” 

This is terrifying to me, that we live in an age now where normality doesn't even exist. And there’s no way any sort of “very special episode” can combat this.

[moretreasurewithinarchive]

@dreamcrs

"You will be right here, always with me."

[babydxhl]

“around here, we call it just being nice.” (fearful-fledgling)

sharp objects ‘dirt’ starters || still accepting!

It was the thought of her contract that kept Mary from turning around and shoving a handful of napkins down the boy’s throat - best behaviour, public image, the difference between a closed and open door. As it was, she only turned slowly, offered a tense smile. 

“Well, that’s just charming.” She glanced around once more at the near empty diner. Beyond the boy, out the front window, she could see the smoking front of their broken down car; her mother had opted to take a different ride, and likely hadn’t noticed they’d been left behind. 

Around here, in the middle of fucking nowhere. 

Mary folded her arms over her chest, and leaned sideways to peer around him somewhat pointedly, though she didn’t know where she was going. “If you’ll excuse me.”