#and they love learning about their fields

[aventurineswife]

so i know you don't want to write for sahsr right now so may i request a sagau where creator (also artist reader if you are ok with that) reader basically just adoring all the kid playable characters cause they think their just the cutest like the reader cheering on kachina as she makes her way through the night warden wars or the reader could name ingredients that diona could use for her drinks

Welp... 🧍‍♀️

I love that idea so much! It's really cute to think about the creator being absolutely enchanted by the kid characters in Genshin Impact, especially since a lot of them are so precious and funny.

As the creator, you are a being of incredible power and influence—yet at times, you can’t help but be utterly charmed by the smallest things. And nothing melts your heart more than the precious little ones of Teyvat, who always seem to be ready for an adventure (and often, mischief).

Klee

It all starts when you watch Klee during one of her explosive missions. She’s running around, her small feet taking her across the battlefield, her cheerful giggles trailing behind her as she launches bombs in every direction. And as much as the others cringe, you can’t help but adore her.

You find yourself cheering her on from your place above, your voice soft yet full of encouragement:

"Go, Klee! You’re doing great! You’ve got this, just a few more bombs and you'll show them who's boss!"

You can practically see her face light up, as though she’s hearing your words, her giggles growing even more infectious.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" she cheers, as the explosions continue, and you think, maybe I’ll draw her with all those sparkles around her next time—oh, how fun it would be to make her look like a literal firecracker in my painting!

Diona

Then there’s Diona, your favorite little bartender, who may look small but holds her ground with her ferocious attitude toward anyone who dares to doubt her drink-making skills. You’ve seen her concoct all sorts of strange but (somehow) delicious potions, and you're there, in the background, naming all the ingredients she might use for her drinks.

"Hmm, Diona," you muse from your corner, a grin spreading across your face, "How about you add some mint leaves for a refreshing taste and a splash of lavender for a calming effect. A little honey wouldn’t hurt either!"

She pauses, glaring at the air for a moment, as if pondering the suggestion. After a moment, she huffs, shaking her head. “Hmph. You think you know better than me? Fine, I’ll give it a shot. But it’s still gonna be better than anything that idiot swillmaster makes.”

You laugh, quietly, adoring her tenacity. You can’t wait to paint her, maybe with some of the fresh ingredients floating around her, her tiny arms crossed in that cute, pouty manner.

Kazuha and Sayu

Kazuha and Sayu often wander the lands of Inazuma together, sharing stories of the world. But you can’t help but notice how small and innocent they both look, especially when they get caught up in their small adventures.

Kazuha, while wise and calm, becomes this beautiful and somewhat soothing sight as he plays his flute while Sayu, despite being a ninja, tries to keep up but always ends up sleepy or distracted by the clouds.

“Hey, Kazuha, you should totally give Sayu a ride on your back,” you suggest with a soft chuckle, watching as Sayu tries to climb up Kazuha’s back and ultimately just ends up lying down instead.

You adore their dynamic. Kazuha always smiles when you’re cheering them on, and Sayu often gives you a tiny wink as if saying, “I know, I know. I’m cute.”

Nahida

Nahida, the archon of wisdom, might be incredibly powerful, but she has a youthful curiosity that’s completely contagious. You find yourself constantly beaming as she gets excited over learning new things, always running around with a little notebook, jotting down facts about the world, or chasing after butterflies in the fields.

"Look at her go," you muse as you watch her from afar, your heart swelling with pride. "She’s so curious, so full of life. You can do it, Nahida! Keep chasing that butterfly! It's yours!"

She looks up from her butterfly chase, beams with her bright, warm smile, as if hearing your praise. There’s a part of you that can’t wait to draw her—capturing her joyful energy, her hair fluttering in the wind, and her little hands reaching out for the world.

Meanwhile, the characters who watch you interact with these little ones are torn between being endearingly amused and very confused.

Albedo, who sees you painting these adorable scenes of the children, may quietly ask, “Are you sure you want to paint them this way? They’re… quite a handful, aren’t they?”

Zhongli, ever the calming presence, merely chuckles, his hands clasped. “Let them be, my friend. You’ve captured their true nature in your artwork, as always.”

Diluc, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow when he overhears you cheering for the kids. He can’t quite decide if it's adorable or baffling, but he keeps his opinions to himself, lest you get any more ideas to paint him in some weirdly soft light.

Before long, you find yourself starting an entire gallery dedicated to your love for the younger characters. Klee’s explosive adventures, Diona’s sassy bartending, and Nahida’s innocent curiosity are now immortalized in stunning, vibrant colors. Every character is fascinated by your works—some even request copies.

And you know what? It doesn’t matter that you’re the creator, or that your abilities stretch beyond the limits of mere mortals. For these small, lovable, and endlessly adorable children of Teyvat? They will always have your heart.

[radical-revolution]

LISTEN TO YOUR LIFE

I think I've learned more about spiritual awakening and healing through being a father and husband than from any book I've read, any teacher I've listened to, any “spiritual experience” I've ever had.

Life itself is the ashram.

Life itself is the university of awakening.

Life is the therapist's office.

Life is the sacred ground, the cathedral, the sanctuary.

Life is the place where, moment by moment, day by day, you are invited to humble yourself, to embrace your mistakes, to listen with your whole being, to acknowledge your limitations, to celebrate your possibilities.

Meet everything with love. Forgive and be forgiven. Speak your truth and hear the truth in return.

Be willing to see your own shadow, and own it. You can’t awaken without it.

If you don't stay connected, if you shut off from life, if you stop honestly looking at yourself, you risk becoming bitter, resentful, and stiff. You risk acting out towards those you love the most. You risk feeling the need to be right all the time. You risk living the rest of your life in addiction and unconsciousness.

Daily life is the field of transformation, and there is no other field, so start listening to your life. It has so much to teach you.

And you have so much to learn. From your partner. From your kids. From your mother and your father. From those who agree with you and those who don’t. From your friends and from your enemies.

So start listening, I beg you, before it’s too late.

- Jeff Foster

[preppyacademy]

Breaking and Remaking : No Thoughts, Only Obedience

Kyle or Prescott's story

Kyle was in his senior year of high school and part of the football team. Academics were secondary for him—it was sports in the morning, sports at noon, and sports in the evening. He hoped to earn a scholarship by being one of the top athletes in his school. Unfortunately, Kyle always acted before thinking, which sometimes led to avoidable accidents.

One game night in early November, his team faced an opposing high school team. Kyle, prone to arrogance, didn’t warm up much, believing he didn’t need to—after all, he was one of the strongest players. His team was scoring well, but in the final decisive minutes, time seemed to slow down. Rain had started to fall, making the field slick. As he caught the ball mid-air, Kyle slipped on the wet grass and crashed violently to the ground before being tackled by several other players. His teammates, still in action, grabbed the ball and scored, securing victory.

As for Kyle, he ended the night in the hospital. His team won, but his medical results were far from victorious. A fractured collarbone, six to twelve weeks of recovery, immobilization, and rehabilitation. He was told he had to remain bedridden for weeks before he could even move.

Kyle had no choice. The hospital that admitted him had to transfer him to a specialized rehabilitation center, located six hours away but renowned as one of the best. His family spared no expense, wanting only the best care for him.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Kyle felt well received. He quickly noticed that most of the staff were male, which struck him as unusual. He was assigned to Dr. Pritchard.

Dr. Pritchard: "You’ll be well taken care of here. You’ll be staying with us for at least six weeks, possibly ten if your condition doesn’t improve. I hope we’ll get along well."

Kyle: "I hope so too."

The first few nights, Kyle struggled to sleep. The feeling of being far from home and his friends weighed heavily on him. Moreover, a low, constant noise resonated throughout his room—a repeating frequency that played over and over. The following nights were the same, but Kyle gradually became accustomed to the sound.

Dr. Pritchard: "I know time may feel slow, but here, rehabilitation is not just about physical recovery—it’s also about relaxing your mind and body. From now on, no more phone screens. We took yours last night. You need rest and must adapt to our institution’s methods."

Kyle was furious but couldn’t fight back—his body was in too much pain, forcing him to comply with the medical staff’s instructions. How was he supposed to survive weeks without his phone?

Dr. Pritchard: "When you wake up, the screens in your room will display relaxation and meditation videos. Follow them, and you’ll see—time will pass much more quickly here."

The next morning marked the beginning of Kyle’s first session with the videos. They consisted of breathing techniques and mantras to repeat. A spiral accompanied the voice-over, guiding him through the instructions.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, my body is relaxed, I let myself be carried by the waves, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss, I feel calm, every word I hear is a new way of thinking to embrace, to listen, and to learn."

Each day, Kyle was captivated—hypnotized—by these screens, which seemed to absorb his attention completely. Slowly, his thoughts began to change, and time passed in a rhythm dictated by the spiral and the mantras. Over time, the words evolved into something else.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, I am happy, my body is relaxed, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss. I am obedient, I listen to what I am told, I must act as I am instructed, I feel calm, I love to obey, I want to learn to obey."

As the days and weeks passed, Kyle healed not only physically but mentally as well, thanks to the soothing words of the spiral. His mind was gradually shaped into a model of perfection, discipline, and obedience.

Kyle: "I wish to submit to the orders of superior men, I wish to obey them, I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy. You have found true relaxation within your body."

Like a machine executing programmed instructions, Kyle regained mobility in his body. His absolute obedience, now stripped of all arrogance and rebellion, made rehabilitation much easier.

Then, the final week of his stay arrived. Kyle sat on his bed, staring into the distance, still repeating the obedience mantra.

Kyle: "I listen, I obey, I serve. My will is that of the Academy. To doubt is to fail. To resist is to fall. Order is my truth, obedience is my virtue. I bend, I disappear, I become. Every command is an honor, every task a privilege. I do not need to think—only to answer: Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy, you make me proud. You’ve done well in your exercises, and now, after ten weeks, your time with us has come to an end. Unfortunately, we must make room for new arrivals like you."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "As you say—'your will is that of the Academy.' Your mind has been shaped for the Academy—the Preppy Academy, to be precise. Would you like to join the Academy, my boy?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You no longer wish to return to your old high school, correct?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You will remain a good boy—obedient and disciplined?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "We will now relieve you of these hospital clothes—you no longer need them."

Dr. Pritchard placed a harmonization device over Kyle’s head. It resembled a large lamp with a metallic tube beneath it, sending electric signals into the subject’s brain. He activated it while Kyle continued to chant his desire to obey.

Kyle remained immobilized, paralyzed by the machine—unable to move of his own will. In his mind, the words "Obedience," "Submission," "Discipline" flashed over and over again.

Two nurses arrived, cut off Kyle's clothes and stripped him naked. Dr. Pritchard pulled a chastity cage from a drawer and locked Kyle's penis in it. He locked the cage and gave the key to a nurse, who left with it.

Dr. Pritchard: "You'll learn that your sex is no longer of any use to you; it belongs to the Academy. You only need it to urinate, because that's a natural need. But to urinate, you'll have to ask permission. If you feel pleasure, your penis, now the size of a phalanx, will be compressed, you'll feel pain and you'll learn to live with pain. Pain is a gift to be cherished, the very essence of a good Preppy Academy student. The more time passes, the more you won't even feel it anymore, you'll get used to what you've become."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle did not flinch. Who he had been just weeks ago had disappeared into the abyss of his mind. Sometimes, though rarely now, he could hear a faint inner voice telling him this wasn’t him, urging him to fight. But that voice was slowly drowning beneath the waves of his consciousness.

Dr. Pritchard: "Now, we will dress you. You haven't learned this here yet, but you will soon understand that being a good boy means being elegant at all times. Appearance is an extension of your obedience. It’s not about having style—it’s about proving your submission through every detail of your attire. Dressing preppy is fundamental. It is a duty, not a choice."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle was dressed from head to toe, like a boy being sent off to school. A neatly pressed, button-down plaid white shirt, tucked into light khaki shorts held up by thick brown suspenders. Long white socks and polished black loafers completed the outfit, along with a large, subtly checkered bow tie.

When Dr. Pritchard tied the bow tie around Kyle’s neck, Kyle opened his mouth—not in surprise, but as if this attire had been meant for him all along, as if the relaxation of feeling truly himself in this clothing had loosened his jaw. His body and mind understood: he was meant to be a good preppy boy.

Dr. Pritchard: "That’s a good boy."

By late morning, Kyle was transferred to the Preppy Academy, placed in a class appropriate for his age. He was quickly integrated among other students eager to learn submission, obedience, and discipline.

He embraced the academy’s dress code without hesitation, developing a particular fondness for plaid patterns—the very motif Dr. Pritchard had introduced him to. In time, the administration and Kyle himself sent a letter to his family, informing them of his transfer and his wish to continue his education at the Preppy Academy.

Kyle’s father had heard of the institution through a friend whose son had returned home completely transformed—eventually becoming the family’s butler. Pleased with the results, and reassured that this was Kyle’s own request, his parents placed their trust in him.

Dr. Pritchard frequently visited the Academy to check on Kyle. Over time, he began calling him Prescott—his middle name—which suited him far better and carried a more refined sound.

Dr. Pritchard became Master to Prescott, who, with the Academy’s approval, would come to serve him every weekend—submissive and obedient. For example, he offered him his mouth to be filled with the doctor's cock from times to times.

Dr. Pritchard decided how Prescott should dress. He had even noticed during Prescott’s hospitalization that he often squinted from staring at the spiral for too long. As a result, he gifted him a pair of elegant glasses—enhancing his preppy and exemplary style even further.

Far from the field, far from his arrogance, Prescott had become a good boy. He could thank the Preppy Academy for that.

Who’s next?

[prettyboykatsuki]

the egotistical ones getting jealous over barou and his daughter is soo funny they all wanna jump him

i have a post about it but barous daughter is an ANGEL on earth. cutest little thing ever. big thick frame glasses and always has her hair in two neat pony tails that barou tries to do for her when he’s home.

she is smart and polite and quiet. loves science and like rocks and weather. comes home to tell barou everything she learned from school. barou is completely wrapped around her finger

it’s annoying cause barou is also massively egotistical but only on the field so he has no karma to reap i fear

[takusan-no-ai]

Dating

PAIRING: Citlali/Faruzan/Yanfei x Male Reader (Romantic) (Separate)

SUMMARY: (Y/N) becomes their boyfriend.

Citlali wasn’t always closed off, having made friends in the past. But with her long lifespan those relationships just became painful memories that she’d live on with. It was because of those memories that she didn’t want any relationship, romantic or platonic. Ororon was her one exception; and she didn’t even plan on getting so attached to him.

That all changed when she met you, a young man with a heart of gold and the patience of an elder. She never expected to have any relations with you. But against her mind, her heart was unbearably lonely, and she clung to your earnest personality like a lifeline.

After finally giving into her feelings and accepting you as her boyfriend, Citlali became much more outspoken around you. No “Granny Itztli” when it was just the two of you. She read her light novels, drank her alcohol, and relaxed like a true hermit with almost no shame.

Though she felt more like herself than ever before, Citlali still can’t quite handle physical affection from you. Kisses, hugs, and cuddles make her so emotional that she’ll start over analyzing every action you make. You’re slightly leaning in? “Oh my gosh he’s going for the kiss!” Safe to say it’ll be a while before she becomes used to your love. Being a recluse can do that.

Faruzan’s life became quite the hot topic after her reappearance in Sumeru. Researchers were eager to figure out how she lived for so long. However Faruzan was more concerned with what her beloved academy had become. Knowledge wasn’t a tool but now a mere status. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t find a student that valued knowledge like her besides Collei.

Until she ran into you; a young man visiting Sumeru that wanted to learn anything and everything about ancient mechanics. You believed that knowledge was a valuable source of power for the betterment of society, and that it should be not only accessible but used by all. Stars glowed in her eyes. Finally she found herself a student. What Faruzan didn’t calculate was the possibility of falling in love with you.

She was aware of tales of men and women in close quarters developing relations, but still. This was a professional relationship! A student and teacher one! Yeah you’re both adults but…she was doing everything in her mental power to come up with excuses. Inevitably though she had to admit to herself; you made her heart skip way too many beats.

The adventurers you did together in search of machines, the quiet moments when you’d both enjoy each other’s presence in silence, and the loud times when the whole gang would get together but your eyes would naturally drift and hold onto one another. And it’s through dating you that she realizes how much of a blessing it was to meet you, even if it came with its own heartbreaks.

Yanfei was always busy, wether it was sorting out a legal dispute or training new legal advisors, she always had to be on her feet. Of course she didn’t mind, in fact she loved it. Solving problems through contracts and helping others get what their owed was one of her happiest moments. There was simply nothing like making the world a better and more honest place.

During one of her clients bemoaning over a fraudulent transaction she bumped in you, her future problem. You were the second best legal advisor from Fontaine, having traveled to Liyue for some extra money and reputation. Your client was the one Yanfei’s had accused of making a deceptive trade.

It was pretty fun for her, going against someone with the knowledge, confidence, and experience like her in the legal field. That doesn’t change the fact you were a pain. Never had she met a man a determined as you. However it was through that determination that you both discovered something: both of your clients were guilty!

After going through the necessary legal process, Yanfei decided to invite you out for dinner. She always found Fontaine law to be more difficult and wanted to learn some more from one of the very best. And that time spent together developed into something more. Where romance blossomed and a dangerous legal duo took Teyvat by storm.

- Fin

[seokminfilm]

🫂 , LYR'S MASTERLISTS: JUST SEOKMIN EDITION ! (from newest to oldest ; note that many may be privated/deleted.)

tipsy ᝢ in which you find the tipsy side of your boyfriend to be very endearing. tease ᝢ in which you find out your boyfriend is a massive tease. like the movies ᝢ in which lee seokmin (your sweetheart of a boyfriend) suprises you with a weekday dinner date (cringy pick up lines and giggling ensues). positions ᝢ seokmin had to have this conversation with you at one point, but he didn’t think it would be this soon and this desperate, either. nangs ᝢ your boyfriend can tell the new shorts he bought have a massive effect on you. love ᝢ domestic life with your boyfriend couldn't be any sweeter. field of hopes and dreams ᝢ in which you learn to admire your sweet soccer boyfriend’s over-the-top celebrations and sometimes annoying resilience. angel ᝢ why was the only person who could give you respite in your suffocating, perfectionist world a rogue motorcyclist who kissed you last night? the many faces of seokmin ᝢ your boyfriend subconsiously makes this one adorable facial expression that you can’t get over. eyeshadow stars ᝢ drawing stars on your sleeping boyfriend’s cheek with eyeshadow really made you realize how much of a star he was. attorney fever ᝢ your charming lawyer is trying to make a good, professional impression on you, but how can he do that with a bunny figurine sticking out of his suit pocket? still life ᝢ you’re in your own little world, sketching the man of your dreams (who’s also very much real, in your own bedroom, and craving your attention). let me show you ᝢ seokmin seemed detached from everything—that was until you got comfortable with someone else. forever ᝢ seokmin finds out something new about you, and still loves you just the same for it. one for me, one for her ᝢ in which seokmin buys something quite silly for your shared dog. l'amore dice ciao ᝢ warm mornings in italy with your husband are why you live (oh, and your coming baby, of course). still a human ᝢ in which seokmin knows how to calm your stressed nerves. sweetpeas ᝢ in which you're thankful that you're seokmin's sweetpea.  something about you ᝢ you finally have a chance to meet the really hot jogger you keep seeing outside of your house. how? by spilling his orange smoothie all over him. show me how ᝢ in which you win your boyfriend's attention by washing your hair with a new shampoo. monet ᝢ nightclubs weren't detective lee seokmin's thing. that was, until he met you, monet. mary janes ᝢ your kindergarten teacher boyfriend's christmas program wouldn't be complete seeing you in your adorable mary janes. destiny ᝢ seokmin was destined to be king. was your destiny to be with him? made for me ᝢ seokmin always knows how to make you feel right, even when you feel you don't look right. attracted to you ᝢ you were born to fluster your boyfriend, weren't you? mosquito ᝢ seokmin was clingy when you weren't with him for long periods of time. these were one of those periods. dokyeom with a talented cook s/o backyard boy ᝢ in which your cute neighbor-slash-good friend finally shoots his shot with you. for one last time ᝢ wii sports with your baseball boyfriend seokmin proved to be an interesting date idea. i wonder ᝢ in which you wonder what the future holds for you and seokmin. there's no one like you those big brown eyes ᝢ damn seokmin and those beautiful big brown eyes. shirt ᝢ wearing your boyfriend's shirt gets a reaction out of him. call me by your name ᝢ in which you reassure that no matter what name you call him by, you'll still love and adore him.

[365emotionlessfaces]

@schemmentits

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 8 WC:~1.9k

When lunchtime came, Melissa was glad to see she had made it to the break room before you. She took the opportunity to warm up your food for you, knowing she’d get to see your smile again. After the morning she had with her little eagles, she would be considering retiring to the Bahamas, except you were here.

She had just sat down with her own plate of food when you came through the door. Melissa could tell the exact moment you smelled the food on the table, as you broke out into a huge grin and made a beeline for the table. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach. That happened all the time with you, so she was getting good at ignoring them. Melissa let you take a few bites before she asked about your plans for the Franklin Institute. She dug into her ziti, as both you and Barb took your turns excitedly chatting about your plans for the night. Of course, Melissa took her turn, telling her friends the parts she was looking forward to most.

Just as Melissa finished, Jacob came running in the door, clinging to a piece of paper like it had just saved him from drowning in the Delaware. Janine piped up from the couch. Melissa hadn’t even seen her come in.

“What’s that?”

When he revealed that he was holding an invitation to the Aspiring Teachers Program, Melissa felt her entire body tense up. It had been years since she had attended, but Barb was the only other teacher Melissa had heard talk about the Program throughout that entire time. Apparently, Barb hadn’t heard about it much either because she seemed surprised that the Program was still running.

“I did that once. Worst week of my life,” Melissa thought back to her week in the Program. She thought about that week more than she liked to. Was this a sign she shouldn’t let go of Parent Trap? As Melissa was replaying that night in her mind, the night she broke two hearts, she heard you say that you had been in the Program, and that it had actually done what it was supposed to and inspired her to teach. ‘Lucky for her,’ Melissa thought, genuinely happy that you had a good experience.

Jacob mentioned that it was in Boston this year, and then revealed that he hadn’t read the entire paper by exclaiming confidently, “I’ve never been to Boston in the fall.” Melissa smirked as you corrected him about what time of year it took place in. When he had actually read the paper, he said something about a great opportunity for diversity, and Melissa just rolled her eyes.

Janine piped up again, looking directly at you, “Wait, isn’t that where you met that-”

Poor girl didn’t even get to finish her sentence before you interrupted. “Wonderful teacher who inspired me to follow my dream of inspiring children to learn? Yep, that’s the place!”

Yeah, because that wasn’t suspicious. Melissa gave you an inquisitive look, and she noticed that Barb was giving you a similar one. She also noticed that you didn’t notice either of them because you were too busy having a conversation with Janine through your eyes.

She and Barb decided not to press the issue, so the room turned to discussions of the rest of the day, field trip included. The rest of lunch flew by, and before Melissa knew it, it was time to teach once again.

“This was the best tasting ziti I’ve had in my entire life! You just keep getting better!” Melissa loved when you complimented her food. It made her weak in the knees. Good thing she was still sitting down.

“You say that every time. I think you lying,” Melissa turned to see Mr. Johnson, who had just finished pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Nope, Mr. J, she just keeps outdoing herself,” you replied to the janitor. Melissa found it extremely difficult to ignore the butterflies anymore, and she couldn’t help the blush rising to her face.

Melissa fought the urge to just tell you how she felt right then and there. Instead, she just smiled and managed to say, “Thanks, hon.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t lie about something so important.” Melissa’s smile broke into an all out cheesy grin. Whether or not you were joking, the idea that anything Melissa did was important to you made her feel all bubbly inside, and she just couldn’t help the big ol’ grin on her face. She watched as you finished cleaning up your spot at the table, and said goodbye to everyone. The redhead’s smile lasted long after she had returned to her classroom for the day.

Melissa didn’t see you again until everyone was boarding the buses. She was so busy getting a headcount that she had forgotten to try and get the seat next to you. By the time she was sure she had all of her little eagles accounted for, you were already sitting with a student. Melissa thought she might be able to sit at least in your vicinity, but one glance showed no available seats except the very front row.

Melissa watched as you talked animatedly with Janine and the students beside you, and took her seat. She attempted to read some of the book she had stashed in her purse, but it proved to be a fruitless labor. The children surrounding her interrupted every other sentence. After a whole three minutes of that, Melissa put the book away and decided to just entertain the children.

The Institute was as fun as Melissa remembered. She’s always down to learn something new about her hometown, okay, just not from some clown who’s not even from Philly. The girl was from New York, for Christ’s sake! Melissa was so frustrated by the fact that this girl from New York was the volunteer guide-‘they’re gettin’ what they paid for, if ya ask me’- that she was focusing like a hawk, paying attention to every word that came out of the girl’s mouth, waiting for her to slip up so she could prove she’s a big phony.

Despite Melissa being so zeroed in with the guide all day, she made sure she was never far enough away from you that she couldn’t see you. She looked over to where you had already laid down your blankets and saw a few children trying to lay practically right on top of you. They were surrounding you, each one trying to get closer than the last it seemed. Sleeping bag in hand, Melissa made her way to you, and when she got close enough, she heard a child whine, “But I wanna sleep next to her!”

She took her opportunity. “Jokes on youse guys. I get that spot,” she said, shooing the children so they would make room. She tossed her sleeping bag on the floor and glanced at you. You had turned to hug a kid who was crying because he couldn’t sleep right beside you. Melissa couldn’t help smiling at how sweet you always were with the kids.

She laid down, laying on her side to face you, and propped her head up in her hand. After you had mirrored her, facing her and propping your own head up, Melissa had to tell you all about the New York girl trying to teach her something about Philly, to which you just smiled at her, before sharing your own excitement from the day. She loved how your eyes shined when you talked about things that excited you, and she couldn’t help but give you a big smile of her own as she listened to you talk.

She was ready to kill the alien that tore her away from you.

A kid had screamed loudly, claiming an alien was here, and the rest of the kids went berserk. Melissa had never seen a group of children disperse so quickly, especially not a group of this size, so she shot up and immediately began trying to reign some of the little humans in. It took almost a half hour, but with all of the teachers from Abbott working together, they got the kids resettled. Melissa thought things were returning to normal, when Gregory came rushing up to you, admitting that he couldn’t find one of his students.

This wasn’t Melissa or Barb’s first rodeo- although it was the first time Barb had been compared to an alien- so they took charge of the situation. They split everyone into pairs, except for Ava who went off to get her eleven hours of sleep, and sent them to different floors to cover the entire Institute. Barb and Melissa went downstairs to search, leaving the younger teachers to search the upper floors.

Barb seemed to think it was the proper time to bug Melissa with more questions about her love life. “You know you can’t have them both, right?” The woman had started.

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” Melissa already knew what Barb meant, but she’d be damned if she gave in to Barb so easily.

“You know exactly what I am talking about. That girl upstairs and the girl from Chicago,” Barb pushed.

“She's not from- Look, I know,” Melissa sighed. “I thought I was ready to- I thought I could move on, but then Jacob this mornin’ with the paper from the Program. What if it was a sign that I shouldn’t let her go?”

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti, you are my dearest friend, and because of that I cannot lie to you. Let. Her. Go. You didn’t even tell the young girl your name, and I’ve only ever heard you refer to her as Parent Trap. Do you even remember her name? How would you know if you found her? You think she carries around your stuffed toy everywhere she goes, on the off chance that she’ll see you, recognize you after all these years, and leap into your arms to ride off into the sunset together?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Melissa couldn’t look the other woman in the eye. She knew that holding out hope that the young girl would waltz right back into her life one day was fruitless. Some fever dream, but God did she want it so bad.

Then there was you. The woman who took Melissa’s life and flipped it on its head. The woman who had been right by her side for the last two years. The woman who made Melissa smile so much that she might start losing her rough and tough reputation.

Melissa knew what she had to do. She and Barb finished checking all the rooms, and once they confirmed Jamir wasn’t on the first floor, they made their way back to their fellow teachers. As they walked down the hall towards the group, Melissa quietly admitted to Barb some of the thoughts going on in her head, and the plan to tell you how she felt about you.

As they approached, Melissa’s eyes were glued to you until she felt Barb’s hand suddenly grab her wrist. She looked up to see Barb more shocked than Melissa had ever seen the woman. It was like Jesus had appeared in the hall of the Franklin Institute. When Melissa followed her friend’s line of sight, her uninhibited hand flew to clutch Barb’s upper arm.

“Is that-” Barb asked as quietly as she could.

“Ronny,” Melissa whispered, not necessarily in response, more so in shock, but she had answered Barb’s question, nonetheless.

Part Nine

[marzipanandminutiae]

Dear Giles,

It's good to hear from you again, as always. But how many times will you ask me before you accept that I can't give you an answer?

Did that really happen? It's a matter of public record. I've told you that before. The marriage, the death, the murders. You could look up the newspaper articles, if you went to Buffalo or New York City. It may have even been in the Baltimore papers; I've never checked.

But the rest of it- the ghosts? Was that real? I don't know. My mother thought they were, but my mother thought a lot of things. As I've told you before, she was- changed, in many ways, by her ordeal.

She thought the ghosts were real. She also looked at me sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, like I might be one.

I wonder if you can fathom what it's like, to be the bomb your own mother fears might explode?

Sometimes it all seems so ridiculous. She was born for a different world, my mother, a glittering citadel where everything somehow meant so much more and yet seems ridiculous to think of now. Sometimes it seems remarkable that she didn't die sooner, that she could have ever coexisted with supermarkets and Alka-Seltzer commercials, with Sputnik and Levittown. Some part of that world lived on in her, I think, even as the whole thing foundered and fell on the killing-fields of France and the skies above Germany. And it taught her how to relate to me.

Her daughter. His daughter, too, and that was the problem.

She loved me; I know she did. She tried not to fear me. But when all your life is a Gothic novel, what are you think about the seed of a murdering Byronic villain? I half-suspect that, if analysts had been as popular then as now, she would have had me on the couch every week from the time I could talk. As it was, she handled me a little gingerly, a little too much concern in her eyes, and I never knew why until I was old enough to read her book. To learn what I had sprung from.

You ask me if the ghosts were real, every letter, for years now. I don't know how many more we have left, so I don't want to waste time repeating myself.

I don't know. But her ghosts were real, and they haunted her until she passed them along to me and left me to walk with them alone.

Best,

Enola [scribbled-out word] Cushing.

if I spoke about it (ficlet)

“…it humbles my heart, for you are everywhere.”

The buzz and snap of fluorescent lights rushed in to fill the silence that followed his words. Humming quietly, two washers in front of them whirled fabric into colorful cyclones.

Two washers, side by side. Two people, ditto, watched them.

The woman’s lips twisted slightly. She pushed a gray-brown curl back from her face.

“That sounds like my mother.”

“It’s Rumi,” the man hastily supplied. “A great poet. Just great. Nobody wrote like him, before or since. Such beautiful words…”

“My mother was a writer, too.” She didn’t look at him, seemingly transfixed by the spinning suds. “She used to say that love drove us all. I don’t think she meant that as a good thing.”

“It’s good for some of us.”

The woman pressed on as if he hadn’t spoken. “She was unlucky in love. My father died before she even knew she was expecting. They weren’t married six months. My aunt, too. And my grandparents had both passed away, so she had no-one in the world.”

At last, the man glanced at her. “Were they very happy, though? For those six months?”

She looked at the floor for a long moment. “They loved each other.”

“My friend…” He seemed to briefly lose his words. At last, shaking his head, “…she was very happy. Incandescently happy- and that’s a word I use advisedly, incandescent. She was practically glowing.”

“It sounds like her lover certainly was.”

“Bioluminescent, I believe they call it. There’s algae like that, too.”

Rain pattered against the enormous front window. Outside, a truck sped through a puddle, splashing a young man who shouted curses after it. One of the washers spun to a halt and buzzed loudly. The woman stepped forward, loafers quiet against the linoleum, and began pulling out damp clothes.

When she finally looked at him, a wry smile didn’t quite reach her blue eyes. “Well, she found happiness, as you say. Love didn’t steer her wrong.”

As she opened a dryer and dropped in one garment after another, the man shrugged. Scratched his head. Squinted at her behind his glasses.

“I don’t think I caught your name.”

“That’s alright; I didn’t give it.” She straightened up, extending a hand in his direction. “Enola. Enola Cushing.”

He shook her hand. “Giles Douglas. That’s a beautiful name, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Enola’s smile, this time, was genuine. It deepened the lines around her eyes and mouth, the ones that seemed to be waiting for it even when her face was blank. “Thank you. I’m named for a friend of my mother’s.”

Nothing more passed between them, in the half-hour Enola’s dryer took to bake  the water from her clothes. But, once she’d loaded up a drawstring bag and slung it over her shoulder, she paused, turning back to him.

“Here.” She held out the book that had carried her through the last thirty minutes, reading silently in a wobbly-legged plastic chair. Its jade green cover was cracked and threadbare, but the crimson crest and title stood out vividly all the same. “My tale for yours.”

Giles took it, leafed through a few pages, and frowned at her. “What’s this?”

Something flickered behind her eyes, a flash of uncertainty. At last, she wetted her lips with her tongue and replied, “A story with love in it.”

[worthitino]

SIGMA, MOIRA AND JUNKRAT FAMILY DYNAMIC BECAUSE, FUCK YOU, IT'S NECESSARY.

* sigma and moira probably had a one night stand YEARS AGO and ultimately decided to put a very young jamison up for adoption and then the entire ow lore happens.

* junkrat, being fairly intelligent, probably realised the similar features that he had to sigma and moira when they joined overwatch and raised an eyebrow. he wasn't shocked when they shared dna with him.

* moira, at most, tolerates junkrat. he's loud and obnoxious. she's not a fan of that HOWEVER... my boy sigma is a good dad! he and junkrat get along and both passionately go on about their fields.

* sigma and junkrat are both autistic because i said so.

* sigma actually acknowledges junkrat is smart, just filled with radiation. moira is indifferent to their madness.

* moira enjoys teaching them both new things, despite being incredibly morally fucked. she managed to teach junkrat how to cook some decent irish meals and a few other things.

* they all like explosions and violence. especially moira and junkrat. especially moira and junkrat.

* moira actually named junkrat 'jamison', as it actually has celtic roots.

* junkrat's blonde hair is a resessive gene from moira's side of the family, as she has lighter hair than sigma.

* junkrat does have more similarities to sigma, however. they both get distracted easily and enjoy learning about paradoxes.

* they all get along with each other, but during game night it's a literal war.

[20peachtrees]

wanderer's adventures in sumeru

THANK YOU FOR 70 FOLLOWERS BY THE WAY!! some news, i made an offical art twitter account! 🥳 its @/marsunshi and i linked it, right now im focused on genshin there and will be a lot more active, but im still going to try and post mcsm content here because i have Many wips ^^ i also have my ao3 linked there and i have a few drafts of mcsm works that i might post at some point..who knows

[torchstelechos]

I adore how Bonnie is written, they're so mean and kind at the same time. Immature and mature, traumatized but trying. Its so fun to see, because they cover for Siffrin (makes nyangry pun) and make sure he's eaten food but at the same time will cry and say "I hate you" without considering how that may affect Siffrin. Its fascinating because they're just a child, a small child thrown into a horror story and they have to deal with it. I love them dearly <3

[babygirlgiles]

Why does no one else see my vision for post-war Effie Trinket. Like that woman does NOT become a civil servant, she does not join the ranks of government service. She is 100% New Panem’s first influencer. She was already having her It Girl moment as the escort of District Twelve’s victors beforehand and now there’s public perception that she was this Hunger Games insider playing the long con to dismantle the system from within and paid this great sacrifice for it by being tortured by Snow’s cadre for her efforts. Which is not true at all because she had No Clue what was going on but Plutarch needs new programming to fill all the hours that used to be taken up by Hunger Games related media so he decides to capitalize on Effie having Her Moment. And with people being allowed to travel between districts for the first time in over a generation and newfound freedom of information, there would a nationwide fascination how other people live. Effie ends up with her own lifestyle/travel series where she visits different regions of Panem and even exotic far away places such as “England”. She’s posting beach selfies on Panemstigram to promote her upcoming episode on lobster fishing off District Thirteen’s revitalized coastline.

She even gets her own daytime talk show at one point. She tries (and fails) for years to get Peeta on the show as a guest. Katniss has never watched a single episode.

[somegrumpynerd]

Did a little doodle of the twins on my lunchbreak, Nightmare is reading the story out for Dream c:

[lunarharp]

fwee top 5 things i had fun with this year :-)

[fox-stuck]

DATA - YOU ARE THE BIRD!! Get my boy to an art school critique right fucking now he’s ready for first year bb

[uncanny-tranny]

There's something so insane to me about being able to create and recreate vintage or even ancient music, clothes, fabrics, building architecture, anything, really.

I watched this video about a lady who knit a WWII-era vest, and it was really unique, because the cable work would eat up yarn, when there were shortages of fibers. This pattern would have likely been used by people to send overseas to soldiers, and now it's being created in a time where this war has been over for generations. What were the people making this pattern thinking of? What about the people making the vest? Could they fathom a world where world wars didn't happen back to back? Could they imagine what peace felt like, or did it fade like a distant memory, a faint friend? All we have now are the remnants of their efforts, a "simple" vest that would warm the bodies of countless people the knitter would never have imagined were here on earth with them.

We're reaching across time to learn about other people - we're reaching our hands out just to grasp anything tangible. And when we've take hold of something, all we can do is say I love you I love you I love you