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hollowed-theory-hall · 22 days

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Some Theodore Nott and Nottpott headcanons because I feel like it

So, I got in a mood to write some things about Theo. I mentioned here basically all the canon information we have about him, and I wrote a headcanon list for Harry a bit ago, so this post is a bunch of random headcanons I have about Theo Nott (and a bit about Nottpott) that live in my head in no particular order.

They are based on the little canon information available, but I don't actually know where most of them came from. They are just my personal headcanons for a barley existing character.

1. He has dark brown hair and dark grey eyes.

He is also described as "weedy" so I imagine he's tall, thin, gaunt, and pale. In my mind, he looks like a sickly Victorian child. Although, he would look healthier as he grows up.

2. I always change his parents' names, they are very inconsistent in my mind, but their personalities are consistent.

3. His father is a blood-purist, Death Eater who isn't a nice person (understatement) and wasn't really involved in Theo's life up until Theo was capable of more complex thought and speech.

He mostly expects Theo to be molded in his image and not really have any new independent thoughts beyond his rule as the Nott heir.

Usually, I place his grandfather as the Nott who came with Tom Riddle to the DADA interview with Dumbledore in 1967 and was a classmate of Tom Riddle. His father is the Nott we see in the graveyard and the DoM. Basically, I think there are two of them and that it isn't the same guy.

4. His mother is a pure-blood witch, and she is dark and wasn't a fan of muggleborns either, but she also wasn't a fan of Voldemort. She disagreed with his methods more than anything. She didn't believe in the Death Eaters war or their means of dealing with muggleborns/muggles (although her solution probably wasn't great either, but it wasn't murdering all of them, so...)

5. Theo is initially similar to his mother’s views, he doesn't necessarily like muggleborns, but he doesn't think they should all be hunted down. He thinks the issue is more complex than most blood purists think, after all, he'd be all for just leaving the muggleborns with the muggles like squibs, but they have magic, and doing that would inevitably lead to wizards' discovery.

Talking to Harry and Hemione would make him more accepting later on.

He also thinks the idea that muggleborns "steel magic" is ludicrous and contradicts everything known about magical theory. Even if he sees them as innately lesser due to his upbringing, he draws the line at contradicting magical theory.

6. He was always closer to his mom and sat at her bedside while she was dying.

7. Theo's mother died when he was 8.

8. In my headcanon Mr. Nott poisoned her over time and later in life when Theo learns of it he becomes very interested in poisons.

The why Mr. Nott killed her isn't something my mind is consistent about and the ideas range from revenge to ritual sacrifice to cover up.

9. He takes 3 electives in school: Care for Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes.

10. His favorite school subject is Ancient Runes.

11. His grades are pretty good with Es and Os — his Os being Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Potions, Transfiguration, Astronomy, and Charms, He got Es for History, Care, and DADA. Herbology is an A for him, he knows the theory well, but he has no interest in actually growing plants ("I could just buy them, I don't see why I'd need to grow my ingredients").

12. Theo isn't really a fan of magical candy, he thinks the enchantments on them are mostly cheap gimmicks.

13. The hat considered him for Ravenclaw, but eventually decided on Slytherin, not for ambition (Theo isn't very ambitious) but for cunning and resourcefulness. Plus kinda fearing his father's reaction if he wasn't in Slytherin.

14. Theo understands how to manufacture an image and unlike Draco, can look aloof and unimpressed when he wants to. He usually looks generally unimpressed and judgmental over something — that's his resting face trained into him by years of saying "yes, father" over everything.

15. Theo has a pretty good memory, but there is one thing, in particular, his father said he was forced to verbally agree to that is etched in his mind: "It's better now you aren't stuck to her bedside" after his mother died (or something along these lines).

16. He honestly loves magic and is often amazed at Harry's intuitive grasp of some complex theoretical concepts. Harry always gets bashful and defensive when he mentions it repeating it isn't that impressive. Theo disagrees with him.

17. Theo doesn't laugh a lot, and Harry cherishes every moment he does.

18. Theo's really quiet and spends more time with books than people. He usually doesn't like people all that much.

19. He and Harry would sometimes just sit in the same space without really talking or doing anything together besides sharing a space, but it is comforting and relaxing to both of them.

20. He was abused by his father (more emotionally and psychologically than physically. Mr. Nott didn't hit him like a muggle, he might've cast some curses that don't leave a mark, but mostly he was distant and an emotionally manipulative piece of shit with impossible standards)

I can see some of Mr. Nott's punishments including, like, grounding with silencing charms and shit like that.

21. Theo would kill his father if he could get away with it.

22. The best years for Theo were 6th and 7th year. During 6th year his father was in Azkaban after the battle in the DoM, and in 7th he made sure to just ditch the UK with the money he stole from his father when he was in Azkaban. (Unless I'm diverging from canon before that)

He does come back to 8th year when that becomes an option.

22. The dynamic Theo has with his father when he grows older is like a weird sort of cold war with each of them counting wins against the other. Almost like a really twisted game of who can get away with fucking up the other's life more. Mr. Nott is usually in the lead and Theo's in constant search for blackmail material he could use against his dad.

23. Theo doesn't really have too bad self-esteem issues thanks to his mom who was a positive influence on his self-image in his formative years. His father is pretty annoyed he couldn't curve some of her influence off Theo.

He does have a trusting and connecting to people issue.

The fact Harry doesn't just treat all relationships as transactional where something would be given and something gained messes him up (in a good way).

24. Theo and Harry would, like, never go on a date somewhere public, they'll stick to hanging out just the two of them somewhere quiet.

25. I also headcanon that Theo could probably get Harry to study better because he'd actually appreciate his intuitive approach to magic and adapt the way he's explaining things to it.

26. They figured out they were both abused in a conversation that went something like this:

Harry: "My relatives don't like me much"

Theo (realizing): "My father doesn't like me much either"

Cue silent understanding and then they just continue whatever conversation they had before.

Later they would inevitably come back to this subject and talk about it more. Harry is honestly elated he can joke with Theo about ducking his uncle's fists without getting pitying glances.

27. He is less hot-headed than Harry and tends to not jump into action. He likes to observe first (even if there isn't always time for it).

28. Theo's the observe invisibly from the sidelines kinda guy. He knows a lot about people just from sitting quietly and listening. (I kinda used to do this in my former workplace, not on purpose, it was my ADHD, but I always knew all the rumors about everyone and what was going on with who even though no one told me any of it and they never realized I just sat quietly not actually reading on my phone while they were talking. It was kinda funny. Sometimes I'd tell my friends the really dramatic story I heard on the bus about complete strangers because I accidentally eavesdropped). Point is, Theo's got a blackmail folder, just in case. He just likes to have blackmail, even if he'll never use it. It's a safety net.

29. He is usually less brave than Harry, his bravery is very selective on how much he cares about whatever it is. He is a Slytherin, he has enough self-preservation for both him and Harry, but if he really cares about something, as we're shown with most Slytherins, all that self-preservation goes out the window.

30. Theo is pretty decent at planning for the long run or preparing, but these spare-of-the-moment plans Harry is so good at, aren't his strong suit. Theo is in his element when he has time to prepare for a situation.

31. He used to meet Draco and Pansy often when they were children because their parents were in the same circles, but he was never close to any of them. He doesn't really have friends, he has people he can talk to and be acquainted well enough with, but it's not really the epitome of friendship. Most of them are in Slytherin in the year above him.

32. Theo doesn't really play Quidditch (he says he's no good at it, and he's mostly right, like, he can fly a broom but he isn't great at it or anything), but he is a fan. He listens to games and follows up on team stats. When he was younger he and his mom would go to games together (she was on the Slytherin Quidditch team when she was a student).

#harry potter #hp #hollowedheadcanon #hp headcanon #theodore nott #nottpott #i guess #these are just my silly little theo nott headcanons #honestly I'm surprised how many of them I have #I do love the character I half made up #I really want to write a fic about nottpott but I can't get myself to stick to a single story

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starsoftheeye · 4 months

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TMAGP Episode 15 Live Reaction

I'm destressing after an exam so we're doing this again baby wooo

Pre-Episode

My YouTube keeps not showing the episode, it's been like an hour since the release and its still not up for me

It's not even up for my laptop this is so annoying

I can't remember how I got it to show up last time as well

Bro I keep refreshing my page and its not there WHERE ARE YOU???

Screw it Spotify get over here

THANK YOU SPOTIFY

who is this man and why is he just doing the toffee/gum in mouth/ face stretching exercise from every drama rehearsal i've ever been to

this is oddly scary

as a physics student... probably

oh its a gum ad

oooh implications

this podcast sounds cool

hi simon!!

i'm gonna stop talking about the ads now this post is so long already lmao

i love it when people dedicate episodes to their friends its so sweet

Pre-Statement

sam and celia!!

:0 he got them tickets? thats so sweet i love him

Theatre tickets can be fucking expensive as well jesus he is down bad

ah yes, my favourite piece of theatre to bring a date to: The Pillowman

i love them

alice!!

oooh luke mention

every thursday i listen to a new tmagp episode and every thursday my samalicelia post becomes a little more plausible

she has really thought this through huh

okay this is probably alice meddling out of jealousy but seriously you cannot expect me to hear her basically asking these two to hangout after theyve been on a date and expect my samalicelia brain to not go insane over it

aw alice :(

jack mention jack mention

"babys are cool" shes so me

aw celia i love her

uh oh sam and alice conversation

oh so now youtube decides to work

i cannot understand what sam said there but i'm assuming it was funny and only a bit passive agressive

Statement

Ah another voicemail

this guy sounds like tim but not

oh god what fucked up dinner party are the rich doing now

"they wanted to know whos kill they were eating" oh this is gonna be interesting

oh no theyre watching

ah yes, very informative "prepare"

whos gonna die

ooooh a fucked up woman i love fucked up women

i know this is probably a very important character and i should be paying attention but i am a mere lesbian and i am finding this woman very attractive right now

thats when you realised something was up?

oh im so gay

theyre gonna aim for the caterers they are not safe

bingo

theyre gonna make them run methinks

they killed all the birds

oh are they gonna make the caterers kill something/someone?

oh no steven :(

these people are being very vague id be asking so many questions

each other?

EACH OTHER

PLEASE BE EACH OTHER THATS SO COOL

EACH OTHER YES

I LOVE HUNTING STORIES

this guys enjoying this a little too much

go on boris

oh no boris :(

is she following him?

OH NO HE GOT CAUGHT

AHHHH WOMAN

SHES HOT

HUH????

CELIA RUN

actually no dont you have a better chance if you stay i think

SLAY CELIA

lena what did you do

this is weirdly homoerotic

GWEN???

GWEN WHAT DID YOU DO

GWEN I LOVE YOU BUT WHAT

CHESIRE BOUCHARDS WHAT

GWEN?????

Post-Statement

ooooh is this lukes band?

theyre good i like it

awww these two arent gonna survive together

damn hes doing well

pfffft weedy git i love luke already

hello?? whos this??

lady are you okay??

alice run

ALICE RUN

ALICE HONEY WHAT HAPPENED

yippee more trauma for her to cover up with jokes

is she doing ellie the elephant oh my god

oh shes back

yeah alice you should run

im betting this was the stranger from the magnus institute

i shouldve paid attention to her little ramble lol

oh my god so much is happening in this show and we're only on episode 15

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #samama khalid #celia ripley #alice dyer #gwendolyn bouchard #tmagp spoilers #tmagp reaction #tmagp ep 15

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docholligay · 8 months

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Choose Your Own Adventure (jan 2024)

I think the problem is that I want to write GOOD things instead of writing anything at all, and I think that's kind of a mistake or at least i think it's not helping me. In any case, I've decided I'm going to write BAD things. Do y'all remember the choose your own adventure novels from the 70s and 80s? No, because so many of your are in class with my daughter fingerpainting, but trust me they were always bad. They were always bad! So I'm writing something like that, and it's going to be bad, or maybe accidentally good, but I don't fucking care which. I'm going to add onto it every month, and you can play along if you like. After every segment it'll basically ask the audience what we do next via a poll. Enjoy. Or hate. I gotta do something and this is something. The perfect is the enemy of the good and the good is the enemy of the accomplished. It's a haunted house story. OKay.

Some houses are histories in themselves. The story is told, complete, before all witnesses, in the lean of a building, a rough and torn roof, or a well-kept garden with an elm grown old, a bench curved around it. You imagine lives for these houses, even moreso than for the people in them. They are the old men in the pub, they are the spurned spinster, they are the young mother. These bricks and stones and lines of wood contain our tragedies and triumphs and turn them to their own. They are the books of our lives that we cannot write for fear of the honesty.

It was, to the observer, such a house.

It must have been grand, once. The knockers bore witness to such a thing, iron and old brass twisted together like snakes into the letter of a family that must have prospered here long ago. The moon shone off that knocker, silvering her like a wilted duchess, her back bowed by the swell and retraction of time’s seasons. The door itself was not one, but two, a pair of twins craved by craftsmen and then by circumstance, the detailing of leaves and acorns in its edging torn away and scratched in places, offering them a violent individuality.

The house branched from those two doors, the twins made mere siblings still echoing each other into an angle on either side, slowly boxing in a sandy courtyard where only a handful of shabbat bushes now grew. Cracks crept up the side of the house, splitting and spreading like a rumor as they dug into the high walls, dipping under the roof eaves. Where the cracks could not be seen, it was only for the veiling of more than half dead vines slowly climbing the stained and sickly yellow paint, pushing out the dark and tattered shutters.

For all its scars, what one noticed at the approach was the sheer immensity of the place, as modest as a whore, as spartan as a pope. The grand doubling of it, rows of windows staring in the moonlight, reflecting a life out into the grit of the courtyard, the house curving at either end in grand octagonal bays, one enclosed, and one free, suggesting a difference that might have been born and not made.

All of it was perfectly bisected by a high tower that rose above the doors, peering over a widow’s walk. It, too, was made with the sharp lines of an octagon, square glass panels neither revealing nor glimmering, only taking in the night, capped with a dome so dark it blended into the night sky, even as the moon looked on. A clock, stopped at three fifteen, adorned the front of the tower, its white paint once stark against the black but now faded to a dispassionate grey. An iron flag atop the dome should have shown which way the wind was going, but stayed it its place, pointing outward to the front gate.

Fog settled over this forgotten ruin like a tender blanket over the dead, hiding it from the world.

Standing in the middle of a great path of weedy grass, a flashlight held in her hand, Lena Oxton gazed up at the house. She was not immune to the human sense of augury in such a house, but neither was she immune to the pouring rain that fell off the edge of her cap and brushed against her chin, nor the bickering taking place in the van behind her. Signs and portents may or may not be real, and ghosts might only be a suggestion, but the rain was very real, she was sodden and cold , and someone was about to die in more than a suggestive way if they had to spend the night in that small van.

She looked back toward the wall where the van was parked, its headlights only just visible over the wall. Even with that being true, she glanced over her shoulder toward the house and considered, just for a moment, bolting back toward that crumbling brick and throwing herself over it. But only a moment. Fear did not get to hold the yoke. She had never allowed it before, and she wasn’t going to start with a house just because it had gone to rack and ruin.

Lena stepped toward the carved and pitted door, took a breath, and knocked.

Who's in the van? <-- I'm a voting link!

#doc's choose your own adventure

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clarepreed · 1 year

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Micro-Story: Action Park, 1986

Story Summary and Content: - 2,140 words. The infamous waterpark also known as "Traction Park" nearly claims another victim. Drowning, on-site resuscitation.

“You’re crazy,” Robert exclaimed affectionately, eyeing his girlfriend Linda. She stood beside him in a neon green bikini and a towel draped over her shoulders, one hand planted on her hip and the other shading her eyes. They were spending their first anniversary at Action Park, an idea that was one hundred percent Linda. He thought the decision was probably tied to her recently getting a job there, which afforded them a discount.

“It looks fun, and I’ve not gotten to try it yet!” Her attention was caught by a long water slide called the Cannonball Loop. It plummeted steeply, then carried riders through an awkward-looking loop before dumping them in a pond. “So far, Rick just has me selling tickets and beer!”

“Didn’t you say someone broke their nose in that thing the other day?” Rick asked.

“Well… yeah, but it’s not like it happens to everybody! And it’s so epic!” Linda reached over and snagged Robert’s arm. “Come on! I’ll go first and you can watch me come out and decide if you want to go. I’ll let you know if I think it will hurt your knee!”

Robert peered up at the ride. He’d hurt his knee in high school, and it still bothered him enough that he hadn’t been able to play college football. “You’re convincing me. You want me to wait down here?”

“Yeah, I think Barbara will let me skip the line to ‘test’ the slide. They do that all the time, and Rick can bite me if he has a problem.” She smacked her gum a few times and then swallowed it with a gulp. “Didn’t want to choke on that. Hold my towel and my shoes?”

“Sure thing, babe.” He took her thong sandals and her towel, and she gave him a quick kiss. “What about your sunglasses?”

“Oh, yeah, don’t wanna lose those. Every body of water in this place is just filthy with broken sunglasses at the bottom.” She sat her sunglasses on top of his head. “Thank you! I’ll be down in no time!”

With that, he watched her turn and run up the hill, providing him with an excellent view of her ass as she jogged. Once she’d made it to the end of the line, Robert walked down to where spectators gathered to watch riders come out of the end of the tube.

The first thing he noticed was that the pool at the end wasn’t particularly deep; it looked like a large depression in the ground covered by the world’s widest Slip ‘N Slide. A man shot out of the end as Robert approached, skidding through the water before finally slowing. He staggered to his feet, pale-faced but grinning.

Robert looked up at the wooden stairs at the head of the slide, wondering if he’d be able to tell when it was Linda’s turn. It wasn’t long before another man spewed out of the tunnel, face down and feet first. That man rolled over on the water and then surged to his feet, a stream of watered-down blood spraying from his mouth.

“Fuck! Busted my damn lip!” the man said. He sloshed his way out of the water just in time for a teenage boy to drop from the end of the tube, yelling as he caught air.

Several more people came through, and he never saw Linda on the stairs. He was getting hot and wished they’d built some shade by the end of the ride.

I wonder if Barbara refused to let her in front, he thought. She’ll be mad if—

A slim woman in a neon green bikini popped out of the slide, head first and face down. She shot along the surface of the pool, her body coming to rest halfway down the length. She did not roll over, or flail her arms, or thrash her way to her feet.

The small crowd at the base of the ride fell silent.

Linda bobbed gently in the shallow water, her mane of wavy hair floating in clumps around her head.

A woman let out a scream, the sound breaking through Robert’s momentary stupor. He dropped their things in the weedy grass at his feet and started pushing his way through the growing crowd, trying to reach the sorry excuse for a barricade built to separate the spectators from the pool.

“Hey!” a man shouted. “No need to push!”

“That’s my girlfriend!” Robert exclaimed.

“Where’s the lifeguard!” someone shrieked. “There’s usually a guy here! Where’d he go?!”

Robert pushed past another gawking man and went under the barricade, hurrying over to the pool. Linda was still motionless, her arms and legs spread out in the water. He hurried into the pool, shoes and all, slipping and sliding as he made his way to her body.

“Linda!” he called out, grabbing her shoulders and turning her over. “Linda!”

Linda’s face was ashen beneath her tan, and a cut ran just beneath her left eyebrow. Both of her eyes were open to slits. Her lips had taken on a bluish cast. As he watched, a rivulet of water trickled from her nose. Robert shook her, then pulled her close, heaving her torso out of the water. He leaned his ear close to her mouth and waited.

“HOLD!” he heard someone shout. “DON’T SEND ANYONE ELSE! STOP! SOMEONE DROWNED!”

He felt nothing from Linda, no reassuring puff of air against his cheek. Robert reached down to slip his arm under her legs, intending to carry her to the flat grass along the edge. Another man was suddenly there, helping Robert as he thrashed up out of the water, his feet struggling for purchase.

Robert laid Linda out in the grass, trying to be careful with her head.

“I’m going to go get help,” the man said. “No one in this fucking place seems to know anything happened!”

“Linda!” Robert exclaimed again, staring down at his girlfriend. He had his CPR merit badge from the Boy Scouts, and he’d taken a class at the local YMCA a couple of summers ago, but he still felt uncertain. He kept expecting her to bolt upright and cough up water on her own, after which she’d fill him in on what happened with Barbara.

She’s going to die if you just stare at her!

Robert sucked in a breath and sealed his mouth over Linda’s, belatedly pinching her nostrils closed as he exhaled. Her cheeks puffed out, but he couldn’t tell if the air made it to her lungs. He tried again, blowing more forcefully this time, and saw her chest expand.

“You have to get the water out!” Someone shouted. “She can’t breathe if she’s full of water!”

Robert saw a flash illustration run through his mind of a rescuer straddling a drowning victim and pushing into their stomach. He glanced up, realizing people had moved closer, gatheringin a circle but seemingly unwilling to help. Robert leaned down and gave Linda another breath. This time, he heard a gurgling sound as his air moved in and out of her lungs.

Scuttling around, Robert swung his leg over her hips and clasped his hands together. After a brief hesitation, he pressed his hands to her stomach, just above her navel. Then he shoved, wincing as her chest heaved and her shoulders shrugged. He shoved again, and her head lolled to the side, water trickling from her mouth.

“Come on, Linda!” he exclaimed, grunting as he pushed into her a third time. This time, he heard another gurgling sound and water sprayed out of her with force. He shoved a fourth and fifth time, his hands digging into her belly and her body emitting wet huffing sounds. “Cough it up, babe!”

He pushed again, and she made a hurk! sound. Bubbles slid from her nose, frothing over her blue lips. He thrust into her abdomen one more time, worried by the color of her mouth.

“Take a breath! Come on!” Robert crawled off of her and slid a hand under her neck, roughly opening her airway before he pinched her nose. Her lips felt cool and slack when he covered them with his own, forcing air into her lungs. Her cheeks rounded, and her bikini-covered breasts rose, but each time his air rushed back out of her and she made no effort to move or breathe.

After he gave her another breath, Robert pressed his fingers into the slim column of her neck.

“Does she have a pulse?” someone asked.

He couldn’t tell. He held his fingers there, waiting to feel the rush of blood against his fingers.

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed. He leaned down and gave her another breath. “Linda!”

“You gotta do CPR,” a woman said, her nasal voice almost droll. “If she doesn’t have a pulse you have to pump her chest.”

“Where’s a goddamn lifeguard?!” a man shouted.

Richard’s hands shook, but he moved over her, pressing the heel of his clasped hands between her breasts. Then he rolled his shoulders forward so that his weight sank down, pushing into her sternum. He did remember this part. He was supposed to push two inches at a rapid pace. He couldn’t remember what that pace was, exactly, so he just went for it, bobbing up and down and counting under his breath.

“…five, six, seven, eight…”

More water burbled up from between Linda’s lips, and he heard a sucking sound when he recoiled. Her stomach popped up each time he pressed down, her shoulders rising up slightly off the ground.

“…fourteen, fifteen!” Robert leaned down and pressed his mouth to Linda’s again. He had to keep his mouth wide to properly cover her lips, and blowing into them felt strange. But her chest rose and fell both times, and then Robert resumed chest compressions.

“One, two, three…” Linda’s open, unfocused eyes looked down her nose at him as he worked, her head nodding with each pump of her chest. “…seven, eight, nine…”

“I’ll take over breaths!” A young woman dropped down by Linda’s other side. Her wide eyes took in the scene. “I’m a lifeguard! Not here, at the rec center!”

Then she bent over, carefully opened Linda’s airway, and gave her two slow breaths.

Robert started pumping Linda’s chest again, trying not to wince at the feeling of her bones shifting under his hands. Short, gurgling puffs of air escaped her lips, and the young lifeguard turned Linda’s head to the side, letting more water trickle out.

“…nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen!”

The lifeguard’s cheeks puffed out, followed by Linda’s. If he looked carefully, he could see her throat swell briefly before her chest rose. Another breath, and then Robert was back at it.

“One, two, three, four, five…”

“I heard they called an ambulance!” a man said. “Still haven’t seen a single damn employee!”

“…fifteen!”

The lifeguard gave Linda another pair of slow, deep breaths and then tipped her head to the side, letting a small amount of water drop out into the grass.

“One, two, three—” Linda’s abdomen lurched and her chest heaved. Robert pumped twice more, and then Linda’s head twisted to the side. She vomited up a stream of water.

“On her side!” the lifeguard said, and together they rolled Linda toward Robert.

“Linda? Oh my God! Linda, take a breath!” Robert crouched down so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed now, mouth gaping. Color was returning to her face as pink splotches. Linda gagged, and the lifeguard reached around and swept her finger between Linda’s teeth.

Robert leaned down on his elbow and reached out with his other hand to push her hair out of her face, uncovering the wound over her eye. Linda wheezed and gasped, barking out painful-sounding coughs.

Then her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked around in confusion.

“Hey, you’re okay!” Robert rubbed her arm, clinging to her like she might slip away from him. He felt a strong need to keep touching her now that she was awake and breathing. “You got knocked out in the Cannonball, babe.”

“What?” she croaked, trying to lift her head. Her left eye looked swollen.

“You had an accident. But it’s okay! You’re going to be alright now.” Robert leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Jesus Christ, babe.”

“I guess…” she coughed, then continued: “Don’t do it. You’ll… hurt your knee…”

“What? I’ll hurt my knee,” Robert muttered. “I’ll hurt my knee!”

“I love… you, Robert…”

“Oh, hey…” This was not a word they’d used yet, not even after a year. But he thought about how awful he’d felt when her limp body washed out of the slide, and how happy he felt now. He kissed her forehead again. If this feeling wasn’t love, he didn’t know what love felt like. “I love you, too, babe.”

#resus writing #cpr resus #female resus #medical drama

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the-gay-disney-games · 9 months

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Round 1A: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001) vs. Newsies (1992)

Propaganda:

Atlantis: The Lost Empire:

“I know Milo is trans because he is exactly like me in every other way why wouldn't he be this way too”

“Milo is a twink and Helga is butch I rest my case”

“Audrey”

“Helga Sinclair is literally there, gay awakening of many along with Kida and Audrey”

“Literally everyone on the exploration team is some form of queer coded except for Commander Rourke. From weedy Academia Disater Bi Milo, to lesbian coded mechanic Audrey, to the crotchety, gossiping, seen it all and death's too intimidated to take her old queer Wilhelmina Packard. Plus how all of them wear their crystals at the end of the movie... They are not straight.”

Newsies:

“i could make a supercut if i had the energy. 1: kenny ortega word of god confirmed trans racetrack, 2: the male leads get a balcony scene, a weird alley scene where one shoved the other against a wall by the chest and it’s REALLY gay, at the end when jack decides to stay it cuts to DAVEY (these r the male leads) instead of sarah (the love interest), 3: in one of the songs one of the characters sings “ain’t i pretty” and one of the other guy characters nods. also it’s a musical about the underdogs/oppressed winning yes it’s based on a real thing but yk. and they made the ending a lot happier and all the main characters are amalgamations of people/made up”

“Just gay as hell tbh”

“Kenny Ortega, the director, confirmed that he purposefully queercoded it! Jack and Davey almost kiss like 20 times and the have a balcony scene also Blink and Mush are constantly cuddling in the background.”

“it’s directed by a gay person, same guy who directed the high school musical movies, so everything that’s super gay can be assumed to deliberate, literally certifiably gay coded. it revolves around the friendship between these two guys. it’s a lot to get into maybe i’ll get back to you later but it’s really gay and also my favorite movie, i mean my name on here is literally transfagjackkelly”

#polls #queerest disney movie tournament #round 1a #disney #atlantis: the lost empire #newsies #okay so I’m a theatre kid so I know newsies but I honestly had no idea it was based on a movie

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indigo-scarf · 2 years

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Character Profile: Theodore Nott

Decided to start a series profiling characters I like: I'll pick a character and compile canon facts, extra-canon, and my own headcanons about them. This way I can organise and share my thoughts, plus maybe help or inspire other fans' characterisations of my faves. First victim: Theodore Nott.

I. Canon

• He is lanky and weak-looking

a stringy Slytherin boy (OP21)

a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott (OP26)

• He can see Thestrals

a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face (OP21)

• His father is a Death Eater

“[Slughorn] asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.” (HBP7)

• He is a pureblood supremacist, or at least acts like he is

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.” Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her. (HBP9)

• He is a competent student

The scene above takes place in a N.E.W.T. level Potions class.

• He’s sceptical about the power of (obsessive) love

“[Amortentia] is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room — oh yes," [Slughorn] said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking sceptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.” (HBP9)

• He doesn’t bully Harry

Harry never interacts with Theodore at all, just observes him from afar a few times. One of these times, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all react aggressively to seeing Harry, while Theodore doesn’t do anything noticeable:

[Harry] saw [Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle] with their heads together later that afternoon in the library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott. They looked around at Harry [...] and Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly and Malfoy whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe. Harry knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: He had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters. (OP26)

• He doesn’t usually hang out with Draco’s gang

In addition to not being present whenever Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy are taunting Harry (or Hermione), Theodore is also not present in the few scenes that show the Slytherins by themselves.

In the train compartment scene (HBP7), even Blaise Zabini is sitting with the aforementioned Slytherins, but Theodore is not. The same goes for when Ron looks for Draco in the Marauder’s Map:

“There!” said Ron, after a minute or so. “[Malfoy’s] in the Slytherin common room, look ... with Parkinson and Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle …” (HBP18)

The only times Theodore interacts with his House-mates are the ones cited above: when they have a Potions class together, and even then it’s Draco that initiates the interaction; when all the sons of Death Eaters are pragmatically brought together by news concerning their fathers.

• He and Draco are on decent terms

Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered (HBP9)

There are “four Slytherins” in that class: Draco, Blaise, Theodore, and one of the girls, and Theodore is the one Draco picks to joke with. Theodore, in turn, gives Draco a validating reaction.

Compare and contrast with how Blaise and Draco compete in the train scene (HBP7).

+ Extra-canon

Notes from JKR’s site about a scene cut from the books (which I accept as canon):

I know much more about Theodore Nott than has ever appeared in the books. Raised by a very elderly widower and Death Eater father, Theodore is a clever loner who does not feel the need to join gangs, including Malfoy’s. However, in this scene Theodore’s father (the same Nott who was badly injured in the closing chapters of ‘Order of the Phoenix’) goes to visit Lucius Malfoy to discuss Voldemort-related business and we see Draco and Theodore alone in the garden having a talk of their own. I really liked the scene, firstly because it showed the Malfoys’ home, and the difference between the place where Draco has grown up and number four, Privet Drive; then because we rarely see Draco talking to anybody he considers a real equal, and he is forced to see Theodore as such, because Theodore is just as pure-blooded as he is, and somewhat cleverer. Together these two Death Eaters’ sons discuss Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts and Harry Potter, with all sorts of stories that the Death Eaters tell about how this baby boy survived the Dark Lord’s attack.

Also from JKR’s site:

In my notes Nott is also described as ‘rabbity’ in appearance.

Rabbity = timid, cowardly; more prey than predator, therefore aware of his surroundings.

II. My Headcanons

#theodore nott #hp meta #slytherin #my stuff #hp profiles

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medeaft · 10 months

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In the year of flowering (originally: A virágzás évében) 2023 Acrylic on paper

It's a parsley. (That's a heart at the root that I decided the root is one with, it's not that I haven't seen a parsley root and somehow think it normally has a red bulb. I promise I have seen, held and eaten it so many times.)

Parsley gain in their strength and vigour for the first year, putting forth bushy leaves and filling the root with food; and the next year, the flowering year, they grow up lanky and weedy, they use up all that strength that they saved up for one single flowering, and die by it. The flowers of parsley are the banners of death. But it's the only way they know to live.

(And I didn't give it the "Moon phases with plants" tag even though this is literally a plant with Moon phases, because that's a specific category of my paintings that this doesn't fall into.)

#art #artists on tumblr #acrylicpainting #plant #blood #heart #moon #full moon #crescent moon #moon phases #night sky #night #stars #pearls #medea-typical death mysticism

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heyclickadee · 1 year

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Okay! I finally! Had a chance to sit down and watch a full episode of my favorite tv show! Bad Batch rewatch time, bay-bee!

So—rambling thoughts on “Aftermath”

1. I LOVE the way this show transitions from being The Clone Wars and into being The Bad Batch during the opening sequence. The logo burning away is great, as is Tom Kane’s narration and the little montage of moments from Revenge of the Sith, but the thing that really gets me is the way that the whole episode shifts the moment Order 66 happens. Up to the moment Depa senses that something is up with Commander Gray, that something is suddenly, deeply wrong, you could be forgiven for thinking that this is a Clone Wars episode and that The Bad Batch really is going to The Clone Wars season 8. But after that? The perspective changes. Up to that moment, the episode is told pretty squarely through a perspective people familiar with The Clone Wars are used to. It’s the fate of the battle, and maybe the galaxy, in the hands of a Jedi, her padawan, and a handful of clone soldiers, and it’s somewhat centered on the jedi perspective, even through Clone Force 99’s introduction sequence. We see their skills in battle, their specialties, and how effective they are as a unit of soldiers; but even though their combat specialties give us a little bit of insight into their personalities, we don’t start getting to really know them as people until Order 66 is given, the perspective shifts, and the story becomes theirs.

And it’s not just the perspective that shifts with Order 66. It’s the whole…everything. After that shot with Depa in the foreground, looking concerned as Gray walks away, the pacing slows way down, and the whole look and sound of the episode changes somehow. And I honestly don’t know what it is that changes or if I’m just picking up on something that’s not there, but I want to do a shot by shot analysis at some point and look at how shots look (framing, lighting, color) before Order 66, and how they look during and after. For now, all I can really say is that before Order 66 this episode looks like The Clone Wars, and that after, it looks like The Bad Batch, but I’m not one-hundred percent sure why.

2. The snow looks good in this episode, and it still looks good in retrospect, but man oh man does the snow in “The Outpost” look incredible.

3. Listen, I can’t tell you how much I love the setup of your prototypical 80’s/90’s action hero team with your very standard action hero team archetypes and how the show is slowly taking each one of them and turning them inside out. The dark, brooding leader with the knife and the skull tattoo? He’d rather avoid conflict and violence to the point that it’s actually a problem. The big guy who looks like he could rip your spine out with his bare hands? He’d be happy fishing and building homes far away from the war, and he’s so, so gentle. The one who’s a little grumpy and by the book? He’s the rebel. The nerd who initially comes across as the weedy exposition guy? He’s a stone cold badass, and I can’t describe the depths to which he loves the people around him. The jackass sniper? Will commit war crimes but will also commit acts of compassion and selflessness that you would not believe.

And there’s a lot more to all of them, of course, but I like the way it’s done and how low key it is. It’s been happening so slowly that it sometimes seems like it isn’t happening at all, but going back here, to this first episode, from the end of season two, with everything we’ve learned about them and how much they’ve developed as individuals and as a group? It’s kind of striking.

4. Hunter is one-hundred percent the frat boy and/or gifted kid with the perfect record that he was in The Clone Wars during the entire sequence leading up to Order 66, and no where is that more evident than when he says, “If you’re done hiding down there, I’d suggest launching a counter attack,” to Depa Billaba. Credit to Depa for not blowing her top (and deciding that he’s right about the tactics at least), because good lord is that disrespectful. (Worth noting that this attitude extends to Tarkin after the battle simulation scene. He’s not outright flippant, but it’s pretty obvious that he’s not happy about what his squad was just put through and doesn’t care if Tarkin knows it—or, maybe, knows that Tarkin isn’t paying attention enough to notice.)

5. Kind of branching off on that, it’s actually kind of interesting that this attitude of his doesn’t extend to Caleb, even before Order 66, and even though Caleb also outranks him. While Hunter’s tone with Depa firmly falls into, “You can tell me what to do, but that doesn’t mean my team and I will listen,” territory, his tone with Caleb is much softer. And given how protective Hunter is of kids in general, and how desperately he tries to keep Omega away from the horrors of war, I sort of wonder if part of Hunter’s attitude here has to do with him being kind of uneasy with Caleb and the other younger padawans being involved in the war at all, and that translating into a kind of blanket, barely contained disrespect towards jedi who do have padawans out in the field. And that’s not fair to Depa here, if that’s the case, since it wasn’t really her decision (and she’s a fantastic jedi and a very good master to Caleb) and she sort of disagrees with the idea of jedi taking military titles in the first place, but it does make it less of a personal disrespect towards Depa and more of a general disrespect towards a practice that Hunter can’t really openly criticize. This honestly might be reading way too much into a handful of lines, though.

6. Oh, Caleb. Oh, Freddie Prinze, jr. and your wonderful voice that doesn’t sound a day under forty.

7. More seriously, I actually like the way FP jr. is playing Caleb here. The cadence is actually good and comes across as youthful, and he plays the part well. But he really does sound at least twenty years too old and it’s just a thing of absurd beauty. It sends me every time.

8. “Run, Caleb!” I’m fine it’s fine everything’s fine.

9. I’ve written a post about this before, but the fact that Crosshair doesn’t try to kill Caleb after Order 66 is given until after he hears Tech say, “Execute Order 66,” out loud as they’re discussing what the hell just happened even though he could have, implying that his chip doesn’t really activate until he hears Tech say it, murders me. It murders me every time. He’s in the background when Tech says it, and he reacts. And the very next shot is the one of the other four discussing what to do next while Crosshair is slightly out of focus in the foreground, with his helmet on, staring away from the conversation and into the middle distance.

10. You know what else kills the man? The way Hunter keeps shouting at Crosshair to stand down, and the way he yells, “DON’T!” at Caleb when Caleb runs at Crosshair with his lightsaber drawn.

11. Man…I miss Crosshair’s original helmet. It’s such a cool helmet! He needs it back (please let it be in storage somewhere on the Marauder).

12. This episode really sets the stage for how they’re going to pitch various tones—the heavier, more fraught moments against the lighter and more warmly emotionally saturated ones—against each other through the series.

13. “Usually when someone falls you look down, not across.” Yes, that is a somewhat disturbing thing to say, but, also, Crosshair is weirdly perceptive and just as observant as Tech, if not more so, and I will die on this hill.

14. It’s been a while since I watched “Aftermath” or season one, so it really hit me this time that we’re never seeing Tipoca City like this again. It doesn’t mean we won’t every see Kamino again, but Tipoca City?

15. Pay attention to Echo’s face during the scene where a couple of clones wheel that unidentified Jedi out under the sheet. He’s disgusted.

16. I love the argument in the barracks, because Crosshair and Echo both think that the mission on Kaller was a failure, but for entirely different reasons. Also, the way Tech looks up at Crosshair as he’s discussing clones being programmed and how they’re the exceptions and adds, “But I can’t be certain of it,” is so…. He’s so suspicious that that’s why Crosshair’s acting the way he is, but he’s not sure, he doesn’t say anything, and I think it takes him a little while to square the idea of Crosshair’s chip activating with the idea that the batch is different enough that they’re immune to the programming—because if Crosshair’s not immune, then maybe the rest of them aren’t either. And that’s a frightening thought. And, honestly? I kind of love that Tech gets it a little wrong here by not voicing his suspicions or working them out.

17. Omega is so tiny and innocent and so happy to see her brothers I just *cries* Also, she is such a little gremlin. Between the food fight scene and that scene where she sneaks into the batch’s barracks? Gosalyn. Mallard. Energy. Also, I somehow missed that the family photo she pulls out was sitting in Hunter’s trunk before.

18. I…may…have been paying a lot of attention to Tech this time around for, you know, reasons, so here’s one sort of adorable thing I noticed: After Omega replies to Hunter asking if she’s got anywhere else to be with, “No, I’ll stay,” and makes it clear that she wants to be around them, Tech just will not stop smiling at Omega almost every time he looks at her. He’s got those sibling adoption papers signed and notarized in triplicate within about two seconds. (Maybe starting to think him mentioning that, by the way, Omega’s a clone and she’s one of us it’s so obvious guys later in the episode was his way of convincing Hunter that they needed to go back for her.)

19. One more thing about Tech. So. Um. That moment where Tech gets thrown from the droid he’s piloting during the battle simulation. Um. Do—do I need to have a counter for “During the course of the season opener Tech is thrown and injured in a fall and needs—and luckily has—help getting back up and around,” because that’s a weirdly specific thing that’s happened in both season openers so far and is perfectly set up to happen again in the third and Jennifer I am in your wallllsss. I swear if we open season three following Tech’s pov of his fall, see him reach the ground alive but badly hurt, and see him get picked up by someone, but, before we see who, we cut to Omega to waking up from a (force induced (?)) nightmare/vision of seeing it all happen a la the the opening sequence of the PJ Two Towers movie I will riot but in a good way. The show’s already been going ham on the LOTR homages so what harm would one more do. I am eating your furniture.

20. That moment during the argument in the brig when Crosshair turns away from the rest of the batch but towards the camera and you can see him react to what the chip is telling him and shake his head before turning back to argue more is like a knife to the gut. Related: Omega’s little discussion with Crosshair. I want to see Omega’s relationship with Crosshair develop so badly, but I’m not ready. Crossdad will kill me. I ought to buy my plot and headstone now.

21. There’s a whole other post to be made about this, but I really enjoy how ambiguous the episode keeps Crosshair’s reasons for going with the shock troopers after the brig scene. Is it because of the chip and the argument he just had with everyone because of what the chip trying to force him to think, or is it because he knows that the shock troopers will take him by force anyway and hurt his family if he doesn’t go willingly? I honestly think there’s elements of both at play, but given the added context of season two and how much Crosshair loves his family in spite of everything, I think the desire to protect Hunter and the rest from what would happen if he didn’t just go with the shock troopers was the deciding factor. It’s another reason why I don’t think that Crosshair’s story is going to end in a self-sacrificial death. Because if he’s going with the shock troopers to protect his family, the self-sacrifice started right here, even though Crosshair had no way of knowing what that would mean for him or what it would entail, and reaches a fever pitch next season during “Tipping Point.” Death would be a bit of a step down at this point.

22. The chip amplification scene is hard to watch.

23. Speaking of Crosshair’s chip amplification, the way Nala Se talks about it to Lama Su kind of implies that it might be the first time she’s actually done that procedure, or done it successfully, and that it’s definitely the first time she’s done it at the request of a republic or imperial official. I don’t think the mindflayer technology we see in The Mandalorian is exactly the same as what we see in this episode, but I so think it’s definitely an evolution of this, and that Crosshair was Test Subject 0 for the Clone X assassins we’re going to see later in the series. Also? I don’t think Crosshair has any idea that this was done to him. I think there’s a part of him that’s just as confused about what he does in the hangar as Hunter and the rest are.

24. Speaking of what he does in the hangar—there’s a split second moment during the hangar scene where Crosshair walks in, sees the rest of the batch, and looks terrified for just a few frames before settling down into business mode, and I think there’s a couple things going on here. One, he sees the batch, they’ve found Omega, and it looks like they’re packing up to go. He has no idea that they’re planning on going back in to find him, so it’s possible that he sees this and thinks that they’re leaving him. Two, the part of him that’s still himself and aware of what he’s doing knows what he’s about to do and he’s horrified, but unable to stop, and probably unable to even think clearly about stopping.

25. I need to keep a closer eye on Hunter and his enhanced senses, because they were actually all over this episode.

26. There’s so much happening in the Onderon sequence, but this is getting really long and it probably needs its own post. Related bit: The way Crosshair says, “The war is over,” in this scene lives rent free in my head.

27. I also have a lot of thoughts about Hunter and Omega, but it’s honestly a lot of incoherent yelling because it’s! It’s them! Bandana dad and sunshine daughter! Before they really know each other! (Also, the way he notices her copying him is the most precious thing because you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with it.)

28. Omega looking out with literal stars in her eyes as the ship enters hyperspace is one of my favorite shots in the entire show.

#the bad batch #aftermath #hunter bad batch #omega bad batch #crosshair bad batch #tech bad batch #echo bad batch #wrecker bad batch #this got long and was longer but I ended up cutting it a little short

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lizzy-frizzle · 1 year

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I decided to write up a silly little Operator File, for if my arknights doctor OC was an operator instead

Operator Iremia: Incantation Medic

Basic Info [Code Name] Iremia [Gender] Female [Combat Experience] None [Place of Birth] Victoria [Date of Birth] May 5 [Race] Zalak [Height] 165cm [Infection Status] Medical tests have confirmed that no infection is present.

Physical Exam [Physical Strength] Normal [Mobility] Normal [Physical Resilience] Standard [Tactical Acumen] Standard [Combat Skill] Normal [Originium Arts Assimilation] Outstanding

Profile A contributing member of Rhine Lab’s Originium Art Section, Doctor Valerie decided to join Rhodes Island as operator Iremia due to personal differences with Rhine Lab’s goals. She’s made great strides while working under Dorothy Franks, and numerous life saving devices have been invented in her name. Aside from some memory issues, her knowledge of Originium should prove valuable at Rhodes Island.

Clinical Analysis Imaging tests reveal clear, normal outlines of internal organs, and no abnormal shadows have been detected. Originium granules have not been detected in the circulatory system and there is no sign of infection. At this time, this operator is believed to be uninfected.

[Cell-Originium Assimilation] 0% Operator Iremia shows no signs of Originium infections.

[Blood Originium-Crystal Density] 0.13u/L Operator Iremia deals often with Originium based experiments, but takes unusually excessive amounts of safety precautions. With the frequency and volume of these experiments, she should be monitored more regularly, however at this point we think it's unlikely she will get infected.

Archive File 1 When Iremia first joined Rhodes Island, she struggled to make friends. She’d often find herself eating alone in the cafeteria, or isolated in the labs performing all sorts of experiments. Some operators thought she was standoffish or rude. Though, after operator Dorothy joined, she started opening up more – thanks to Dorothy pulling her into conversations. This led to her befriending a number of other scientist and medical personnel – notably Rhine Lab operators and operator Weedy.

Archive File 2 Other operators have been coming to Iremia to change benign aspects of themselves, resulting in some files being inaccurate. It turns out that Iremia’s arts can alter people’s heights, weight, hair color, and various other physical aspects. Kal’tsit has issued a mandate that operators can no longer bother Iremia for these changes, as it has resulted in requiring to update approx. 200 files.

Kal’tsit, please send out a reminder, I’ve seen over a dozen operators with different -undyed- hair color this week. - Gavial

Archive File 3 Iremia has briefly discussed her desire for a cure to oripathy – chiefly her Mom. Iremia can still be found in her dorm crying over this subject, so please refrain from bringing it up unless she initiates.

Regardless her reasons, she has put more hours in the lab than Silence with regards to experiments and tests to further our understanding of the disease. This has led to infected operators finding Iremia to be genuine, and easy to confide in. However, this has also led to Iremia attending every infected operator’s cremation. This should be noted with regards to her mental health, and perhaps we should limit her access to them.

On top of all of this, Iremia has already found a way to slow minor infection rates to a surprising degree – though not effective against heavier infections. Even if it’s not a cure, this breakthrough has bolstered her confidence and mood substantially.

Archive File 4 Iremia has established several romantic relationships with other operators, so needless to say she’s adjusted to Rhodes Island. She’s been spotted making out with a number of others in hallway corners, and for some reason when this was brought up to Kal’tsit she seemed unsurprised, and unbothered. This has led to some operators starting betting pools on the exact number of partners Iremia has among Rhodes Island. The current highest bet is thirty operators.

Promotion Record ‘Eh? You want to know how I use my arts? Well...I just kinda...do it? I’m not sure what you were expecting...’

…

‘You want to know if I can take Originium out of people? No. I’ve tried...C-can we please drop this subject?’

…

‘My rings? They’re my own design! I made them at Rhine La-Oh, I might not be able to talk about them actually. I think Rhine Lab has the patent...’

#cute girl tower defence tag #my OCs #val writes things

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loquaciousquark · 1 year

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Current garden status: a solid meh, with a few highlights here and there.

In the back box garden the marigolds are doing TERRIBLY. This is the second time I've tried to plant marigolds and the second time they've looked like weedy little sticks within a few weeks. The African marigolds are doing a little bit better than the French ones, but neither is doing well. Even the salvia is pretty mediocre, and I couldn't stop that from growing last year. I don't know if they're getting eaten or if my water levels are off, but I'm giving up on the marigolds after this year. The daylilies, however, are in full bloom and having a fantastic time.

In the front, the tea olive tree looks pretty shabby this year after a late frost killed off its first attempt at leaves (and possibly some limbs--I'll need to see where the leaves come in next year). The handful of tiny hostas has struggled to do anything three years running, and the azaleas never did put out a decent first bloom. The hydrangeas are at least alive, though I won't be getting any blooms this year. The white hydrangea in the back looks fuller than it has the last two years, so hopefully I'll get some blooms next year. The lantana in the brick garden is growing magnificently, just in the wrong direction! I want flowers, not big fat green leaves! I did discover today that I've accidentally been half-dosing my fertilizer, so I gave it a double dose and hopefully that will promote some bloom growth over the next couple of weeks.

The viburnum seems to be having a great time; I'm not sure what those spindly little mint green bits on the leaves are, but I'm hoping they might be baby blooms? It's certainly doing better than last year's roses. The honeysuckle in the corner of the fence had a catastrophic first month where I kind of accidentally totally forgot to water it ever, but I've got a hose on it now and it's finally putting out runners, so hopefully I didn't torch its chances too badly.

At the end of the driveway the jasmine is off to the races with long runners crawling all over the fence. The pentas are blooming pink again and the plumbago is beginning to fill out nicely. I can't figure out what's going on with the little arched bed at the end of the driveway; I have five hostas planted there, all planted about the same time, all planted about the same depth. However, one has been up and full for a month, two have just decided to spit out leaves in the last week, and I have no idea where the other two are. A little hosta mystery...a hystery, if you will.

Plus an Ophelia, just because.

#quark's gardening tag #ophelia

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nostalgia-tblr · 1 year

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This is not a shallow post, honest

Reading Thor-era MCU fic of late I noticed that a few writers drew attention to Loki being very covered-up clothingwise, and at first I was like "...is he?" because he's not abnormally covered compared to men you might see in the street, but he is by MCU standards, isn't he? Not that I've bothered to been able to check before writing this post, but I feel on fairly safe ground saying that most of the MCU Leading Men had got their tits out shirtless by about the end of the second Avengers film, or failing that had spent much of their screentime wandering about in unusally tight t-shirts. By contrast Loki doesn't even have naked arms until... whenever. When he got shirtless in the Loki show (thanks for the confusing title there, Marvel, it makes discussions so much easier) it was because a robot...thing?? stripped him, not because he decided to do it himself. And I, of course, have A Theory about this, based on not much more than conjecture. Don't worry, though, I shall include some pics in this 'essay' to keep things lively and entertaining.

Hang on, I need to Google something.

This is taking longer than I expected it to. Please wait.

Okay, fuck it, this'll do. Sorry for not having sufficent sensible images of these characters on my PC.

Okay, so: an attempt has been made. Not in a meme way, I mean I do think an attempt has been made in these films to make one of these men look smaller than the other even though the difference isn't as vast as fanfic turned it into. You know how in fic Loki's at least a foot shorter than Thor and all skinny and weedy and whatever? I reckon this partly comes from the fact that in terms of plot and character it does kind of make sense that Loki ought to look like he does in fanfiction. He should be weaker-looking, a bit shorter, a bit - dare one say - "drowned rat" next to Thor Whose Power Is He Carries A Big Hammer And We Go On About Him Being A Warrior. We invent a contrast because it feels like there's more of one than there actually is on screen. We all know what the wee shifty one should look like! If he doesn't actually look like that then we'll just say that he does!

And in costuming terms Loki is dressed in black (slimming! slenderising!), with diagonal stripes (narrowing!), a quite strangely-tailored flappy coat (significant in some way! i assume!). His shoulders are less emphasied, the arms that we later learn are fairly muscular are fully covered to hide any obnoxious biceps, and aside from maybe a bit of neck skin showing (whoreish!) we shall see naught of his actual body - he will not be getting his tits out shirtless until such time as he gets his own show and exists not in contrast to Big Beefy Thor but - at last! - as a proper MCU Leading Man. Because as soon as Loki gets kidnapped by the TVA, this happens:

No wait I didn't mean that one I don't even have that one on my PC why would I have that one of course I don't have it pretend you didn't see that.

I mean this happens:

Oh no, normie clothes! Normie clothes being a shirt with the traditional 'Marvel Dudes in shirts' fit (ie: a bit too tight) and the sleeves rolled up, and there's a tie (a TIE! how standardly manly!) and I reckon there are two factors at work here, aside from the aforementioned "we no longer need to pretend this man is short and weedy" thing:

Yes, they have made him look "normal." I know it's a common complaint and sometimes a bit... fervently expressed, but I do think it's a valid point. This show has obviously been made for a 'casual viewer' to some extent. They've seen some of the MCU, and they might feel a bit odd about everyone wearing capes all the time. Let's be real here: the Marvel-nerd audience was already going to be watching this show anyway. The people who know how many Spidermans (Spidermen? Spidersmans?) there are, and who can name well over two of the Avengers. Some of the aesthetics have been changed to appeal more to the 'casual' people, I do think that's what's happened here. (But as one of those people who can't tell you the correct plural of "Spiderman" I don't mind it. It worked! Here I am! Annoying everyone with my noobness! Hi!)

...shit what was the second thing again? Dang it, I've forgotten. Sorry about this, give me another moment to get my thoughts back together.

Oh, that was it: this is now the man we want the audience to think is hot. Some of them did before but we didn't necessarily want them to. And yes I agree that is a bit insulting, given that they did not cast an uggo here. Or even someone short and scrawny. On which point...

I don't want to say they should have cast someone who already looked they way they dressed him to look because obviously that all seems to have worked out perfectly fine in the end, but they could have. In some ways it is an odd choice, worthy of being remarked upon in long rambling tumblr posts that didn't have anywhere near as many photos as were promised earlier on. (Sorry about that.) There's a bit of a mismatch going on here between someone my granny might have called "a sneaky wee bastard" and someone she'd describe as "a six-footer." And this is why in a lot of fanfic this has been... shall we say 'corrected' in some way.

(Not-quite-an-aside: in fic that is specifically about the Loki show and not the other bits of the MCU, Loki usually does not shrink in height and width. This, I would argue, is partly because of the different visual reference points (AKA "we've seen his tits him in relatively revealing clothing") and partly because he's being paired off with different characters, and neither of the usual two (Mobius and Sylvie) are being contrasted as physically stronger than him. If anything those fic writers tend to go on about how tall he is. And now I'll stop before I say anything about obvious height-difference kinks and the fact that yes, your readers have noticed.)

In conclusion,

#welp that was a long post hope someone made it to the end with me (i only barely did)#they also gave him clean hair for the show! rejoice! \o/#TBH i am not 100% sure that second point up there was my *original* second point but whatever it fits it works it's fine #mcu tag i guess #here's a loki there's a loki and another gator loki #my third-favourite loki #i feel it would be deeply wrong of me to use my meta tag on something that reads like a shitpost but maybe i will who knows #loki series #thor movies

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victorluvsalice · 4 months

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-->After that, the true chores of the day could begin – starting with Alice getting her bake on! I had her start by using the sweet batter she already had on hand to make strawberry fizz cupcakes, then had her make some more sweet batter in the stand mixer before using some leftover dough on a blueberry pie. While she was cooking, Smiler came back from the dump and Victor finished up his upgrade, so I sent them both to tend to the greenhouse – unfortunately, that one dahlia flower was still glitched-weedy, and Smiler kept getting stuck in a weeding loop every time they went near it. >( Meeh. I had them and Victor do what they could for the other plants (just a bit of watering and weeding of those plants that COULD be cleared) – Victor ended up finishing first, and I decided he could be the one to feed the chickens and clean the coop today. I know he’s usually the plant guy, but it does everyone good to switch things around sometimes! Alice, for her part, finished up her first batch of food and got sent to clean Moory’s shed and poor dirty Moory herself – though I had to stop her trying to eat Toothy the cowplant’s cake midway through. *sigh* One of these days I’m going to LET one of you get eaten, and then you’ll learn...

-->Anyway – she fed the cowplant, then went and cleaned Moory and refilled her feed with prairie grass hay to keep the cow happy. Along the way, she indicated she wanted to cook some waffles (a picture of the waffle iron appeared in her activity queue anyway), so I looked through the options and decided she should cook some pumpkin spice ones – something different, and it would use up the pumpkin in the fridge! While she finished in the shed, Victor finished cleaning the chicken coop and decided he wanted pineapple pizza for breakfast, which I allowed because it amused me. XD I then checked in on Smiler, broke them out of another perma-weeding loop, had them go around and get a few key crops (soybeans, black beans, plasma fruit, pineapples, poison fireleaves, noxious elderberries), then had them snag a bottle of fizzy plasma from the greenhouse fridge to drink while they worked on super-selling the rest of the produce. Though I did end up having them also snag some taro root and garlic first, because taro root is also good for making flour, and I didn’t think they’d ever actually HARVESTED any of the garlic they’d planted. Might as well, right? That’s what it’s there for! Happily, all this harvesting and super-selling actually maxed out their gardening skill, which is cool. :D Now the house has two super-gardeners to take care of all the plants!

-->With the garden all taken care of, Smiler got sent upstairs to go play a little Sim Scuffle (I think it’s everyone’s favorite game in this household), while Alice finished up her chores with Moory and went in to make her pumpkin spice waffles as Victor finished breakfast. Only for her to then immediately have to go OUT again because her werewolf temperaments made her feel like the walls were closing in on her. *sigh* I thought about having her indulge in some zoomies, but as the waffles were going to be done very soon, I figured it wasn’t worth it it (you never know how long zoomies are going to take, and the interaction can’t be canceled, sooo). Instead, I had her dig around in the yard for a bit (she snagged a sample of utranium for her efforts – pretty sure she already has that in her little collection, but always nice to get something while scavenging!), while Victor took advantage of the oven being free to bake some everything bagels (as I figured it would be nice to have something from him in the stand too). Once I was sure she was okay to come back in, I had her go back to the kitchen to collect her waffles and have some artful foccacia for breakfast (as Victor knee-walked to the bathroom, poor guy) –

-->And then, made sure both she and Victor had a piece of forbidden candy from the jar in the kitchen! Reason being, I learned from – okay, I actually don't recall now if it was an onlyabidoang video or a Petey Plays It video, but one of them did a video that showed how having one piece will give Sims an energized moodlet and actually REFILL THEIR ENERGY NEED AND KEEP IT FULL while the moodlet is active. (Have two in a 24-hour period, however, and you lose the benefit as your Sims become uncomfortable.) As Victor and Alice are always getting tired at odd times because of the weird hours they keep, this seemed like a great way to keep them happy and awake while they were out and about! :D Once they were officially Energized by ghost sugar, I had Alice head to the porch to grab the painting Felipe Sisson recently made on the easel out there (he visited during the party Smiler had a little while ago and painted something before he left – it was actually a really nice painting, I’ll have to give it back to him at some point) before sending her to the downstairs bathroom to use the toilet then lick herself clean. Victor, for his part, was kept busy by using the various pet poops he had in his inventory to fertilize a few plants close to evolution. XD Look, I had to get them out of the poor guy’s pockets! He came back as Alice somber-howled her way to lower Fury (didn’t want any inconvenient rampages while they were out and about) – and with everyone sorted, it was time to hit Hare Square in Windenburg with the Van Liddelton Snacks stand!

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #of course I had to have Alice start with strawberry fizz cupcakes #strawberry is her favorite remember :)#it is really nice to be able to just cook them in the oven now #thank you for freeing the cupcakes Sims 4 #but yeah all the typical Valicer farm chores #interspersed with a loooot of baking #had to have Victor join the party #he likes baking after all :)#and yeah I THOUGHT it was onlyabidoang that told me about the candy jar #but thinking about it I think it WAS Petey #though probably they've BOTH mentioned the effect and I just don't recall which video I watched first XD #very handy though #especially for my Sims and their bizarre schedules XD #queued

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eryiss · 1 year

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Summary: Seeing your ex boyfriend is always awkward. Having to work with him, in a job where your uniform is a speedo no less, is almost too painful to deal with. But Freed had a left lot of things unfinished with Laxus, and maybe now was the time to fix them.

Notes: Hi all. Head to @fuckyeahfraxus to see some other event submissions. This was meant to just be Laxus obsessing over Freed in a swimsuit, but developed some emotions. As a warning, there's a few mentions of homophobia, but not in much detail.

Links: Ao3, Event Masterlist

The Pool-Boy, The Barman & The Things They Left Unsaid

June - 2023

"And I'd like to welcome our new summer hires," Gildarts said, looking over his clipboard. "We've only got two in our department. Bickslow here is gonna be one of the new pool boys, so the rest of you can help him out. And we've finally got someone to help with the pool side bar; that's you Laxus."

Freed, who had been sitting at the back of the locker room only half paying attention, froze at the sound of the name. It was an uncommon name, and Freed had never known anyone to have it other than him. He quickly scanned the room to have his suspicions confirms, and his stomach dropped when he saw the half familiar man standing at the front of the room. His pulse exploded and he looked found himself unable to look away from the only man he'd ever loved.

Laxus was there, in the same room as him again after five years.

He looked different. As kids, Laxus had been almost weedy and lanky, but now he had more bulk and muscle to him than the average gym rat. His face, which had once been gaunt and pale, was tanned and home to the strongest jaw Freed had seen. If it weren't for the scar and those enchanting eyes, Freed might not have recognised him.

"I'll be spending the morning training Laxus, so don't bother me unless is urgent," Gildarts continued. "Oh, and today we're trialing the new uniforms for the pool boys. Bickslow's already offered and Freed, since you've got highest rank, you'll be wearing one as well. And, well, I can only apologise for what management has chosen. Hopefully it won't go past the trial week."

Freed couldn't take in anything Gildarts had said, as the second he'd said Freed's name, Laxus' eyes had widened, and he started to look around. Freed attempted to make himself as unobtrusive as he could, but the locker room wasn't that big, and it only took a moment for the heavy weight of someone else's gaze to hit Freed. Freed tried not to look, but after a nudge and encouraging wiggle of the eyebrows from Natsu, Freed looked up and was trapped in Laxus' gaze.

Five years. Even after all this time, looking into Laxus' eyes sent lightning through Freed's veins.

"Right, gentlemen," Gildarts began again, and it sounded muffled to Freed's racing mind. He couldn't look away. "It's Saturday, we've got new guests coming and they're gonna want drinks and to use the pool, so get out there," Gildarts stood tall. "You all know what you're doing. Laxus, you come with me, and I'll talk you through everything. Bickslow, job's pretty self-explanatory for the most part, but go to Freed if you need anything. Freed, new uniform's by your locker."

Everyone moved, and Freed was forced to tear away his eyes. He felt a hollowness he'd forgotten about entirely.

Laxus followed Gildarts out, and Freed made sure not to watch to see if he looked back. The room was now almost entirely empty, and Freed felt nothing but the thudding of his heart. Five years of trying to get over Laxus – trying to find another man who set fire to his heart in the same way – and it had all just been undermined. Laxus was back. Laxus was his coworker. Laxus was as mesmerising as he ever had been.

He pressed his forehead against his locker, mind swirling as he decided what his next move was. He wasn't the type to turn and run – certainly not from a job as well paying as this – but how would he cope with his ex working only a few feet away from him. They'd have to coexist. They'd have to be civil. They'd have to have a damn conversation every time Freed picked up a tray of drinks from the bar to deliver to a table. How could he deal with that?

The answer was obvious. He would grow up, remember he wasn't a teenager, and do his job.

Forcing confidence he didn't feel, he straightened his back and picked up the black package that was sat on the bench in front of his locker. As he unwrapped the package, he told himself that he'd treat today as if it were a normal day; Laxus would not have the same innate influence he'd had on Freed when they were kids. They'd both grown, likely both changed, and both knew that the other just wanted to get through the day without it being too awkward.

He looked down at his new uniform, and blanched. A speedo, nothing more. Today was going to be hell.

Two Hours Later

"It can't be that bad," Bickslow chuckled, the sun beating down on him as he straightened a stack of towels. "I get that they're revealing, but you're pulling it off."

Freed had spent the morning trying to focus on work and had failed miserably. Every second, he was lamenting how bad his luck had been. He'd left for work that morning expecting a regular day with a busier than normal shift being the worst thing he could deal with. Now, he had to spend the day serving men while wearing the tightest swimsuit he'd ever seen, all the while feeling the ever-present shadow of Laxus fucking Dreyar. It was only nine in the morning, and Freed was almost certain that this was the worst day of his four years working at Blue Pegasus.

Even the realisation that he'd been working there for four years soured his mood. He hadn't wanted to be a damn pool boy. He doubted anyone strived to be a glorified waiter who wasn't allowed to wear a shirt. It wasn't a bad place to work, and the fact it was so gay friendly was a relief Freed would never under appreciate, but still. It was meant to get him through the last year of college, nothing more.

"Okay, I know I barely know you," Bickslow cut though Freed's thoughts, crossing his arms. How he was so comfortable in the speedo was astounding to Freed. Though, he likely didn't have to endure an ex. "But you're clearly not just pissed about the uniform. What's up?"

"Nothing," Freed shook his head. "I just would have appreciated some warning, that's all?"

"Why, can you make your abs even better than they are right now? I doubt it," Bickslow nudged his shoulder and cackled. Freed would have laughed, but he suddenly felt the heat of eyes on him. He turned to the bar without thinking and caught Laxus turning away quickly. "Ah, is it blondie? He's been makin' eyes at ya all day. If you're not interested you should tell him, or I can do it," He shrugged, then clicked his fingers. "Oh shit, do you not like men at all? I kinda assumed – gay resort, Y'know – but if you don't then I'll tone down the flirting."

"No. Don't worry. I am gay," Freed shook his head. "And it's not like that at all. If he is looking at me, it's not for that reason."

"You sure?" Bickslow teased. "Because I've had a lot of guys wanna piece of me-"

"We dated, through some of high school and the first year of college," Freed cut in, mainly to stop the conversation from getting more off track than it already was. He was meant to be telling Bickslow how they replaced and cleaned the towels. "It wasn't exactly the best of break ups, we fought with each other and haven't seen each other since. It's just… uncomfortable."

Why he was telling this stranger that, he didn't know. Freed had never been the type to be open with his feelings, but the ridiculousness of the day must have gotten to his head. That, and through the unofficial training he'd been giving Bickslow, Freed had found him easy to talk to.

That quickly fell away when he thought back to his and Laxus' breakup. They had been looking for an apartment to share for their final year of college, and during one of the viewings it had all suddenly became clear to Freed. Laxus had said something about the building – about how good the location was, and how far it was from his father's building – and Freed had snapped. He realises that everything they were doing was influenced by Ivan Dreyar, and he couldn't take it anymore. Every bad thought he had about Ivan – and Laxus' inability to stand up to him – had come out. They'd fought, they'd left the apartment they had nearly rented, and hadn't spoken again.

There was a lot of regrets from that day. Freed shouldn't have blamed Laxus; he knew what kind of a hold Ivan had over Laxus and shouldn't have thrown it back at him. He should have approached the topic with at least a modicum of sensitivity. He should have sent a damn text to apologise.

Too little, too late, Freed supposed.

"So that's why you've been sending me to get all the drinks he serves, huh?" Bickslow said, snapping Freed from his recollections.

"I had hoped you didn't notice," Freed confessed.

"I don't care. I thought it was the weakest new guy hazing I'd ever seen," Bickslow shrugged. "But, I'm pretty sure you're gonna be working with him for a while and you can't avoid talking to him forever. So why don't ya swagger over there, show off those abs and that ass, take those drinks and make blondie drool over ya."

"I'm not exactly the type-"

"Just go talk to the guy, Freed," He looked over Freed's shoulder and towards the poolside bar. "There, he just got an order. Take the drinks, thank him for making them, and leave. That's all you gotta do."

He made it sound easy, and perhaps it was. Freed turned to look back at Laxus, and caught him quickly looking down again. A tray of drinks was already prepared and waiting for pickup. Freed had taken drinks from the bar thousands of times now; it would take only a few seconds and would require very little conversation. Freed couldn't avoid Laxus for as long as they were both employed, so they'd have to do this eventually. It was best to get the first contact over with.

Taking a breath and gathering his mind, he stood tall. He was careful as he walked; wearing this ridiculous thing was humiliating enough without slipping on a puddle. Laxus seemed to sense his approach, as he looked up. His eyes caught on Laxus', and his breath halted for a moment.

Laxus looked gentle. That had never been a word Freed had associated with him before.

Freed was beside the bar within a moment, and half expected Laxus' eyes to wander over his body, but they stayed trained on his face. Freed picked up the tray of drinks, glanced at the sun loungers he was to deliver them to, and then looked back at Laxus.

"Thank you."

"It's alright," Laxus nodded slightly. Freed went to turn, but Laxus spoke again. "Wait."

Freed did, and Laxus seemed to be fighting for words. Freed waited before speaking. "Are you-"

"I'm sorry," Laxus spluttered slightly. He looked vulnerable. That was new. "Everything you said was-"

"Laxus," Freed whispered. He hadn't said that name in a long time. "You don't need to apologise."

"No. I do Freed," God, the way he said his name. "You were-"

"You don't," Freed shook his head slightly. "We'll speak at some point. I'll tell you why you don't need to apologise, and you'll likely tell me what you were just planning to say. But not today. Not when I'm still processing that you're here," He saw Laxus wince. That wasn't new, and Freed hated the fact he had caused it. "And certainly not when I'm dressed like this."

"Yeah," Laxus laughed weakly. "Was kind of a shock."

"It was for me, too. I can assure you I hadn't been told," They shared a small smile, before Freed remembered the tray of drinks. "I should take these."

"Yeah. Yeah of course."

"It was… I'm glad to see you."

Laxus' head snapped to him. "Yeah. You too. Really glad."

Freed nodded, and turned away. A weight he hadn't known he'd been carrying was lifted.

Five Days Later

Their shifts ended almost at the same time. It was so late that it was nearing the morning, and most of the guests had vacated the pool hours ago. Freed, who had showered and changed in the locker room, walked back outside to see Laxus was sitting at the edge of the pool. He had his back to Freed, and absently was kicking his legs and making ripples in the surface. Freed couldn't help a soft smile at the sight as he walked towards him.

"Hello," He said, and Laxus whipped around to look at him.

"Hey."

Freed slowly brought himself down to sit next to Laxus, with barely a foot between them. He slowly put his legs into the water and looked out on the reflected lights. He waited a few moments before he spoke again. "Before we begin, I have to ask. Did you know that I was working here before you got your job?"

"No," It was a firm response. Freed believed him. "I'm not upset that we can talk, but I had no idea you'd be here."

"Good," Freed nodded. "So… we should discuss what happened."

"Yeah," Laxus turned from the pool to look at Freed. "I… I don't really know how to start. I know what I want to say, just don't really know what the words should be, Y'know."

Freed did. But hearing Laxus confess to being at a loss for words was something he'd never had before. "I understand that. But there's been a few things I've wanted to say to you since we fought, so I'd like to get them off my chest first. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"The things I said… they were unacceptable," He saw that Laxus was about to speak, and put a hand up to stop him. "The relationship you had with your father… I still believe it was bad for you, and that it was hurting you more than you would admit. But I also knew how difficult that relationship was for you, and that you weren't happy with the situation either. I threw it at you in a moment of anger, rather than trying to broach the topic in a way that might have helped you. I shouldn't have done that, and I really am sorry for that."

"Freed, I was letting that man-"

"No. That's the other thing I needed to say," Freed interrupted him. "There was always a part of me that thought you were… complacent with your father. That you shared a bit of the blame. But you were a teenager whose father was just awful. He threatened you anytime you did anything he didn't like. That was him, not you. I'm sorry if I ever made you think otherwise."

"You didn't," Laxus placed a hand on Freed's. "Seriously Freed, you never made me think that. Even when we were fighting, I wasn't pissed off at what you were saying. I was pissed off because I thought my dad was ruining another thing I cared about."

"I still shouldn't have said what I did."

Laxus took some time, before sighing. "I needed you to dump me, Freed. I was pissed about it for months – wounded pride, Y'know – but I think it needed to happen."

"Really?"

"Freed, I was an angry dick when we were kids. When I was around you, I got calmer and felt better. We worked that way, but it couldn't last forever," Laxus leant back. The sky was cloudless. "I always thought I kept it hidden; all the shit my father was doing. I actually thought you didn't know. I was stupid back then. You laying everything out for me… it made it so I couldn't hide from it anymore. I thought that I could just endure all of my dad's crap until I made a life that didn't have him in it, but that didn't work. I needed someone to make me stand up for myself."

"Did you?" Freed asked, honestly shocked.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "Not straight away. I was stewing in how pissed off I was for a while. Then, I realised I wasn't happy and found a therapist. She helped a lot, but even then, I was scared to stand up to him. He'd given me a job at his company – high up, well paid, totally under his thumb – so I felt like I couldn't do anything. I think that's why he never had a problem with me going to therapy; he thought he could win against her."

"And he didn't?"

"No. We had this meeting in front of the investors. I stood up, nudged the table, and a glass of water spilled on his knee. I thought he was gonna explode, but he didn't. He called for his assistant to bring in a massive pitcher of ice water, handed it to me, and told me to pour it all over myself if I didn't wanna be fired," He scoffed slightly. "He was fucking insane, and I never realised it. Not really."

"You didn't do it, did you?"

"Nah. I nearly did. Then I nearly threw it at him. But I just walked out, quit and blocked his number."

Pride bloomed in Freed; and perhaps he didn't have a right to feel that way. But Laxus had stood up to Ivan, and not with a screaming match or a fight, but with a straight rejection of his ideals. That had seemed insurmountable from where Laxus had been when they'd broken up. It was a testament as to how much Laxus had changed in their years apart, and how much he had grown into himself.

He really had gotten more comfortable in who he was, too. He was more gentle, quicker to smile, and seemed to have a lightness to him now.

Freed might have been stealing glances at him over the past could of days.

"I'm glad you could do that."

"Me too. Wish I threw that water at him though. Fucker deserved it," Laxus breathed out a long sigh. He wasn't saying something.

"What are you not telling me?"

"Shit, you can still do that, huh?" Laxus laughed. "He didn't exactly let it go. I got a job in another office, he found out and told my boss a load of crap and I got fired. Got a new job, same thing happened. Two years of that shit. I got less money each time, a smaller apartment each time. He was bleeding me."

Freed didn't know when he had taken Laxus' hand in his own. He didn't remove it.

"So, I got ahead of him. Sold all the shit I didn't need, found a crappy apartment, and looked for a job that he never would think I'd go for," He made a gesture to the vacant bar. "And, this place seemed appropriate, Y'know. Final way to stick it to my asshole, homophobe lawyer father is to get at a low paid job as a hotel that's main draw is how gay friendly it is."

"You've gotten poetic," Freed teased.

"Guess so. Or maybe I heard how generous people here are with tips," Laxus joked, and Freed laughed. "Although, that hasn't exactly been true. Some pretty boy's been walking around in a speedo all day and getting all the money that should be going to me."

"I have been making more money since the uniform changed," Freed mused and smiled. "I'm glad I got to see you again."

"Me too," Laxus nodded. They sat in silence for a moment, before Laxus spoke in a timid voice. "So, the two of us. Are we okay? Can we…"

"I would say, we get to know each other again as coworkers. We're both different people and have changed a lot, and we can't pretend we haven't," Freed spoke softly, and he saw Laxus nodding. "But, for what it's worth, the person you've grown to be already seems very promising. I doubt we'll stay just coworkers for much longer."

"Like, friends or…"

Freed didn't say anything. He ran a finger over Laxus' hand and watched the stars as they glittered on the pool.

Three Months Later

"Loungers three to six gave us this," Freed said, sliding the twenty-dollar tip into the communal tip jar. They'd installed them after Freed and Bickslow's tips were so much larger than anyone else's. Needless to say, the new uniforms were staying; Freed had long since gotten used to them. "And the delightful man on lounger twenty-three will be requiring your… personal touch."

Laxus grinned, brought a prepared drink, and pushed it forward. "Already done."

Over the past three months, Freed and Laxus had gotten over any awkwardness remarkably quickly. They had fallen into a fast friendship and their work reflected it. They were a well-oiled machine, and as such were always put on the same shift. They knew what the other wanted, and anticipated the other's needs. As such, Freed wasn't surprised when he saw a large blob of Laxus' saliva resting at the top of it. Freed took a drinks umbrella, stirred the drink until the spit was no longer obvious, and grinned back.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

Freed took a tray of drinks and began his walk around the poolside. He finished the round at lounger twenty-three, the occupant of which glared at him and made a comment about how long it took. Freed made a fake apology, and the man actually tutted. Freed watched magnanimously as the man took a long sip of the drink.

"Before you go," The man said, voice smarmy and cool. "You couldn't do me a favour, could you? Oaf that I am, when I kicked off my shoes, they went a little further than I thought they would. Well, you can see," He gestured to the pool. A single sandal was floating in the middle of it. "I'm not dressed for the water. You couldn't get it for me, could you?" Freed sighed almost imperceptibly. The man must have seen it. "I'll make it worth your while."

Without shame, the man plucked a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet. Freed was half tempted to throw it back in his face, but his mortgage had gone up and he should take any extra cash he could get. If some creep would pay to get him wet – because there was no way in hell you could accidentally kick a shoe that far – then he would take it. And, after an incident when he was accidentally knocked into the pool a month ago, he did know that tips were larger when he had a few drops of water sliding down him.

"Of course, Mr Tartaros."

Freed didn't look at the man and turned towards the pool. On the other side of it was Laxus, who was watching them both, but averted his gaze when Freed spotted him. It lightened Freed's mood. This had happened a lot; Laxus watching him when he thought he wasn't going to be caught. Freed probably shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as he did.

He slid into the pool, and the coolness of the water was rather pleasant. It took only a few seconds for him to gather the sandal, and once he had it, he pushed himself out of the pool. He handed it to the guest, took the note offered while ignoring his roaming gaze, then turned back to face Laxus. He made sure to stretch a little and flex as he did and saw Laxus' face explode into redness.

That certainly was new.

And then, for a reason he couldn't think of, he winked.

Laxus went even redder and fumbled the glass he was cleaning. Freed smirked and went on with his day.

One Month Later

"Fuck!" Laxus yelled, slamming his hand onto his locker.

Freed looked up, eyes a little wide. He was on his break, chatting with Bickslow and Gray. The two other men shared a glance but didn't comment, while Freed looked at Laxus. He was wearing an expression that Freed had seen a few times before, and it sent a queasy feeling straight to his stomach. He stood without thinking and walked to Laxus, placing a hand on his back.

"What's wrong?" He asked, voice low.

"My dad. He figured out I'm working here."

"He didn't… you've not been fired, have you? Surely Bob wouldn't-"

"No, he didn't. He just called me in to say dad got in touch, and not to worry because he didn't believe anything the old bastard said," Laxus whispered.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"No. Well, I mean yeah it is, but this happened before. I worked for a little charity, and he tried this shit before, and they stood up to him," Laxus leant against the locker, face contorted in unhappiness. "So he went after my landlord and wore her down until I was evicted. He'll do that again. I'll be out before next month. It's not like a college city is short of people looking for cheap apartments."

"Surely there are laws protecting-"

"I had no money when I signed the contract. I would've taken anything. It's not a fair deal at all."

Freed winced; he had been in a similar position himself with a landlord who knew how to take advantage of him. He patted Laxus on the shoulder, and suddenly he felt as though they were both teenagers again. Laxus was dealing with his father's crap and trying to figure out a way to survive him, and all Freed could do was stand by him and do nothing of actual help.

But that wasn't the case now. Freed was an entirely different man than he had been back then. Perhaps the biggest regret he held about their relationship was that he had not done enough to help Laxus get out of the situation he was trapped in. But now he had more to offer, and an even greater desire to make life work for Laxus. As much as he had cared for Laxus before, there was something special about seeing how brilliant Laxus could be when he was away from Ivan.

"Why don't you move in with me," Freed said quietly. "It's a one-bedroom apartment, but it's got a sofa bed that you could use. And we were practically living together in college, so we know how not to antagonise each other. It could work."

"You sure?" Laxus asked, before shaking his head. "No. He'd just go after your landlord and then we'd both be fucked."

"I own my own place," Freed shrugged. Laxus looked at him, half impressed. Freed laughed. "It's not so impressive really. It's small, but big enough we wouldn't feel crowded if you do come. I only got it because I'd had enough of living with a landlord."

"I get that," Laxus half chuckled. "But no- I can't interrupt your life like that."

"And I won't allow you not to have a home," Freed said firmly, before softening. "How about you spend the rest of the week with me, as a sort of trial. We can see if it works, and if it doesn't then we can come up with something else."

"Well… are you sure?"

Freed smiled. "I'll drive us both to your apartment and we can pick up what you need."

"Thanks," Laxus gave him a brilliant smile, and Freed's insides roared with pleasure.

Three Weeks Later

"Mr Dreyar, you have no right to be here, and I insist you leave this moment."

At Bob's exclamation, Freed looked up and towards the bar with shock. Bob was a man who was slow to anger, and Freed couldn't think of anything Laxus was capable of doing that would bring his ire. Laxus looked equally as confused from behind the bar. That confusion quickly changed to a white-faced horror that shook Freed to his core. Freed followed Laxus' gaze, and felt a roaring of anger grow inside of him.

Ivan was there, and every spec of hatred Freed had ever felt for him came back with a roar.

"I am here to see my son," Ivan snapped, and Freed hadn't missed that voice at all. "Laxus Dreyar you come here now!"

"Mr Dreyar, if you don't leave now security will escort you out and the police will be called."

"There you are!" Ivan saw Laxus and stalked towards him. Thankfully Laxus was behind the bar, so there would be something between them. Freed abandoned the stack of towels he had been collecting and began to walk towards them. Ivan kept speaking. "You have been disrespecting the Dreyar name for far too long. Working in this… place is the final straw. No, I have had it with you! You are coming with me now."

"Mr Dreyar!" Gildarts, who had obviously heard the commotion, snapped. "You better leave right-"

"It's alright, Gildarts," Laxus said calmly. It was the kind of calm that sent a chill down your spine. "My father and I have nothing to say to each other. He's going to leave and won't be coming back anytime soon."

"I don't know where the hell you get the balls to speak to me like that but-" Ivan cut himself off, eyes snagging on Freed as he approached. He turned, looked Freed up and down, and rolled his eyes. "Of course. You came running back to this little shit. He can't be that good of a fuck, Laxus. Look at him; he's a damn joke. You can hardly call him a man at all," he scoffed then turned back to Laxus. "He'll leave you when things get hard for him, you know. Just like he did last time."

Freed took a step forward.

"Don't speak about him like that," Laxus' calm shifted into something more dangerous.

"Oh, you don't believe me," Ivan laughed. He walked to the bar, picked up a pitcher of rainbow cocktail, and grinned. "Then let me show you." He swaggered to Freed, who didn't shy away from him. He raised the glass and slowly tipped it over Freed's head. Crushed ice of many colours poured down Freed's face and onto his torso, but he still didn't look away. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Ivan snarled and leant in. "Go on, kid. Fuck off."

"No."

"The hell did you just do?" Laxus barked, storming out from behind the bar. He was moving fast and had an expression that Freed had rarely seen on him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You are coming back home, Laxus," Ivan snapped. "And you will take whatever role I deem appropriate for you, and you will be thankful I was so-"

Ivan couldn't speak further, because Laxus stormed over to him, pressed two hands into his chest, and pushed him straight into the pool. He spluttered as his luxury suit was drenched, flailing around and finding his balance. He waded towards the edge of the pool and made to get out, but Laxus placed a foot down on his hand and pressed hard. When he spoke, it was an acidic whisper that chilled Freed.

"You've spent so much time trying to fuck up my life, and I don't think you even remember why anymore," he hissed, applying pressure on Ivan's fingers. "But you ain't doing it anymore. If you hadn't done any of that shit, I don't know what kind of life I would have had. But this is where I am, and I fucking like it. So why don't you fuck off."

"How dare-"

"Oh shut up," Laxus scoffed. "But, for what it's worth, you didn't fuck everything up. Not totally," He glanced at Freed before firming himself and looking back down at his father. "You know, whenever I thought of you, I thought about the last time I saw ya. This is the last time you're gonna see me, and I hope this really sticks in your mind."

With a quick moment, he turned to face Freed, wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. Freed was quick to act, running his hand through Laxus' hair and pulling him into a slow kiss. It was electric as it always had been with Laxus, this time softer and sweeter than they had been in their youth. Freed lost himself in the sensations, the feeling of Laxus pressed against him again. The relief of finally having Laxus as his own again.

A trickle of the cocktail slid down Freed's cheek, and he broke the kiss with a laugh. He had forgotten about it and couldn't stop himself from chuckling. He pulled away from Laxus, but only enough to see him. The rainbow of crushed ice covered both of their faces, and Freed couldn't think of a more perfect second first kiss.

"I missed you," Freed whispered.

"I missed you too," Laxus beamed.

They grinned at each other, then joined together in another ethereal kiss. The world fell apart around them, and, for that moment, it was just the two of them. The moment was perfect, and Freed felt a sense of love he'd never known before. He didn't say anything, though. His love for Laxus went without saying. With the two of them, their love for each other had always gone without saying.

#Fraxus Week 2023 #Fraxus Week #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #writing event #Modern AU

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nonhumanresources · 1 year

Text

Caramel Changes

Here's one to get you into the spirit of the season! Short two page TF written all the way back in October 2017, when I did a series of stories for the season. I'd love to do more, autumn is my favorite time of year.

Summary: you get a weird piece of candy while trick or treating. You probably shouldn't eat that. You do.

What to expect: second person caramel-coating bird TF.

Length: 1.2k words. Fun fact, it's actually 1200 exactly including the title; I usually round.

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“Trick-or-treat!” you shout, holding out a pillowcase nearly filled to the brim. The frail old woman standing in the doorway smiles, showing off her three teeth.

“Oooh, hello there!” she says, her voice as rusty as the hinges on the door. “I’ve got some very exotic candy for you tonight! I made it myself, you know!” There’s a twinkle in her eye as she speaks, dropping a single wrapped caramel in each of your friend’s pillowcases, ending with yours, giving you a toothy smile and a small wink. She waves goodbye as you thank her and turn from the door, walking back down the weedy, unkempt walkway of cracked cement and back to the smooth sidewalk to continue your annual night of candy gathering.

One of your friends stops next to a trash can sitting out on the curb. He pulls out the caramel and tosses it into the black depths, never again to be seen by human eyes - unless someone happened to be living in the city dump.

“We should throw these away. If that old hag really made them herself, there’s no telling what she might have put inside,” he says to the group. One by one, your friends mumble in agreement and pull out their own caramels, each piece sharing the fate of the first. Soon enough, everyone is down one candy and ready to move on.

Well, everyone but you.

Story below the cut, or here if you prefer to read on a Google doc. If you made it this far I am kissing you full on the lips platonically. Or is it platonic? It's queer, that's for sure. Comments/questions/thoughts always appreciated!

You hesitate, staring at the small square. Why would an old lady want to do something like poison candy? She had seemed nice enough. Besides, she was the only person so far who had seemed excited to be handing out free candy. While that was suspicious, to you, it seemed more kindly than anything. You tuck the caramel back into your bag. Your friends stare at you in surprise.

The lead boy shrugs and turns around, tossing a remark over his shoulder. “It’s your funeral!”

You shrug in turn and reply. “Whatever. Let’s go get more candy!”

The night moves on, and you load up on more and more candy until lifting your pillowcase becomes a full-body workout. A couple hours later, you’re shouting a farewell to your friends as they make the trek home. You nearly fall inside your bedroom door, exhausted. You dump your candy bag on the floor and fall over onto your bed, where one of the two pillows is missing it’s cover. You start to drift into sleep, but before you can enter the realms of dreams, you realize with a start: you hadn’t eaten a single piece of candy! Despite being around sweets for hours, you hadn’t eaten even a single branded chocolate; saving your Halloween candy was essential. One piece couldn’t hurt, though. You decide on something small - not too big, but not tiny, either. Something like…

...the caramel. You dig around in your pillowcase and pull it out. Now that you were in the light of your room, you could see colorful swirling patterns breaking up the normal monotone tan of caramel. What had the lady said? It was exotic? Whatever it was, it was like no other caramel you had ever seen, and it looked delicious.

Unrolling the clear wrapper, you pop it into your mouth, excited. Some inevitably sticks to your fingers. The soft caramel melts in your mouth, spreading across your tongue, and down your throat. It leaves you with a warm feeling, almost like soft, warm butter being spread on your insides.

The caramel in your mouth thickens just a bit, sticking to your teeth. You try to work it around in your mouth, but it grows even thicker, locking your jaw in place. The warm feeling grows hot, and you hold a hand to your stomach as you start to feel nauseous.

As you move your hand, you notice that your fingers refuse to bend. You look down in surprise. The caramel on your fingers had spread, coating your whole hand and locking it in place. You start to panic as the candy creeps across your body, spreading outwards from your hand and your stomach - some had gotten lodged on your shirt, too. Your clothes are pressed against you so tightly, they almost seem to become part of you. You hunch over as you are coated in sticky caramel. For a few seconds, your whole body is locked in place. You feel a pressure against your face, like the caramel was pushing into it. Or maybe your nose was pushing out of the caramel? Your arms feel are pulled around your stomach, and they almost seem to squish outwards, wrapping around yourself.

Soon - at least, you think it was soon; caramel had coated your perception of time, as well, leaving it slow-moving and awkward - soon, the caramel begins to loosen and the hot feeling begins to subside. You stomp, trying to knock the caramel off of your feet. You try to wiggle your toes, but they are… unwieldy. You quickly see why, as the caramel breaks off, revealing two large sets of talons on the ends of two large three-toed feet.

You pry your arms away from your sides as you wobble around on your now-pointy feet, trying to keep your balance. The caramel rips away along with them, hanging down in tattered shreds. It starts to fall away, dropping to the ground and revealing brightly colored wings underneath the hanging tatters instead of pink skin. You flap them frantically and fall over backwards.

Your caramel shell shatters all across your backside, and a huge tail covered in brilliant hues unfurls behind you, spreading the length of the room. You yell in surprise, but your face is still covered in caramel. The effort tears away the candy covering your nose and mouth. A huge SQUAWK echoes out, and you fling your hands to your face. Feathered wings meet a large beak, and you let out another surprised squawk.

Dizzy, you stumble upright and totter up to your mirror, your long tail dragging across the wooden floor behind you. What you see isn’t surprising, but it is still shocking: a huge bird, feathers askew, stares back at you from the mirror. You blink; the bird, your new form, blinks back. You realize that because of your many colors, you are most likely now male, regardless of any prior truth to that fact.

Your exhaustion gone, you flap your wings experimentally and rise a few inches into the air, your amazing plumage fragmenting the light into soft, multicolored shafts that decorate your room like a disco ball. While being a bird was disorienting, it certainly was dazzling. You drop back to the floor, talons clicking on wood. You aren’t nearly as clumsy now.

I could get used to this… you think, flexing your claws. An idea forms, and you smile as best you can with your curved beak. You hop onto your windowsill and pop open the latch, wriggling out into the night air. Why not go out for a night flight? After all, it’s not like matters could get much worse, and you could always stop by the old woman’s house to see if she had a cure.

Maybe later, though. After all, you don’t become a bird every day.

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