#but that's also the implication to me that like

[plateauofmemories]

While Dracula gets a physical and mental snare around Jonathan pretty quickly and brutally, I do like to read a little subplot into the beginning of Dracula in which Jonathan does, briefly and without knowing it, give Dracula a metaphorical heart attack.

On May 7th, Jonathan writes that Dracula is away for the day, and in the evening Dracula joins him to converse. Jonathan asks him some questions about what happened on his trip in:

...I asked him... for instance, why the coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue flames. He then explained to me that it was commonly believed that on a certain night of the year—last night, in fact, when all evil spirits are supposed to have unchecked sway—a blue flame is seen over any place where treasure has been concealed.

And like. The coachman is Dracula. Dracula was marking the places where the treasure was.

Dracula is looking for the treasure.

Perhaps he even spent part of that day looking for the treasure.

And guys, when Jonathan asks some more questions, like why no one's dug the treasure up already, Drac says (perhaps in an almost frustrated tone):

"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames only appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight even for his own work.

Guys. He can't fucking find it.

But then he asks:

Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places again?"

And when I read this line I always imagine Dracula like, leaning forward in his seat, looking very intent.

But then. Jonathan answers with:

"There you are right," I said. "I know no more than the dead where even to look for them."

And I just imagine that Dracula must be shitting his pants at this point. Because this could just be an incidental turn of phrase, but also. To one like Dracula, who is well-versed in delivering threats through implication beneath a thin veneer of cordiality, this certainly sounds like this nobody of a newly-minted solicitor has 1. already clocked you as undead, 2. nonchalantly let you know that he knows that you're undead and 3. just insulted you over your inability to find your treasure to your face.

Jonathan literally doesn't describe any of the conversation after this point, so Drac must have played it cool enough to avoid catching Jonathan's attention but hooo boy. Must have been sweating bullets there wondering who the hell he'd just let into his house.

And of course, it actually is just a turn of phrase, and Dracula does have the upper hand and is free to psychologically strangle Jonathan with it for weeks upon weeks.

And on June 25th, Jonathan gets into the Count's room and we get a conclusion to our subplot:

The only thing I found was a great heap of gold in one corner—gold of all kinds, Roman, and British, and Austrian, and Hungarian, and Greek and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, as though it had lain long in the ground. None of it that I noticed was less than three hundred years old. There were also chains and ornaments, some jewelled, but all of them old and stained.

He foundt it 👍

[sthilarions]

I am… thinking, about Charles, and friends

There’s this fascinating thing where if you actually stop and count it up, instead of going based on vibes… Edwin makes way more connections in Port Townsend than Charles does.

Charles connects to Crystal, and that’s really it. He clearly likes Niko, but barely has any dialogue with her. He seems vaguely pleased when Monty isn’t antagonistic towards him, but makes no effort to engage with him further. Obviously he hates the Cat King. He exchanges like three words with Jenny, only talks to Tragic Mick as needed.

And you could argue that in a lot of those cases it’s because they latched on to Edwin first and Charles just politely bowed out.

But more than that, more than the people in the last paragraph, there are all the people in Port Townsend that we don’t even know the names of because if Edwin didn’t connect with them, they didn’t get connected to. Why aren’t there people who latched on to Charles first? Charles “aces with people” Rowland? Charles “everyone likes me eventually” Rowland?

Outside of his dyad, Charles really only interacts (beyond information exchange for cases) with Crystal. Meanwhile, Edwin’s hanging out with Niko, Monty, TCK, also Crystal, even seeking some level of connection with random people like Shelby. Charles talks to people in a friendly way, while Edwin talks in a snippy way, but with Charles it’s always shallow and brief - go along to get along until the necessary conversation’s over and then get out of dodge.

And I think there’s an understandable reason for that. The implication seems to be that neither of them have really made any friends outside each other in the last 35 years. Which means for Edwin, chances are the only friend he can remember attempting to make is Charles. He wasn’t trying in Hell, I doubt he even tried at St. Hilarion’s, probably already thoroughly burned by that point. He hasn’t tried to make any friend other than Charles in well over a century. So his only experience of friendship that he can recall has gone really, really well.

But for Charles… he had friends. Lots of them. That he can remember. Or at least he thought he did. And then they killed him.

That’s his last memory of friends other than Edwin. People he thought liked him well enough, murdering him.

So yeah! He’d probably be kinda gun-shy.

…the really sad thing about that theory, that he doesn’t make friends because he’s scared of people turning out to be like the kids who killed him, is that there is, in fact, one (1) time in Port Townsend that he tries to connect with someone other than Crystal or Edwin…

And it’s Brad and Hunter.

(Also, as much as I adore Crystal, and I do - she does also turn out to have been a murderer, or an attempted murderer at the least, and one of a very specific type at that. She wouldn’t do that now, but I’ve gotta think that if she ever tells Charles about, say, the “psychically commanding someone to walk into traffic” incident, that he’s going to spend at least a little time going…. Is that really the sort of person I’m inevitably drawn to, every time? Crystal, Brad and Hunter, my mates - people who kill because someone irritated them and they thought it was funny and they could and they didn’t think the other person mattered, people who think if the person doesn’t die in their sightline it doesn’t really count as murder… Is everyone I like always gonna be like that?)

[svt-meiying]

BUZZFEED ; READING THIRST TWEETS

⏸─•──── 16:11 . . Now Playing ; Zhen Meiying Cuts [BuzzFeed Celeb]

. . . No, this is not clickbait. SEVENTEEN’s Mingyu, Vernon, Seungkwan, Mei, and The 8 sit down to read your most unhinged thirst tweets

[ 👤; Mei could sink those fangs in me and suck out more than my blood... ]

Meiying immediately giggled at these rather explicit implications before getting to finish reading the tweet, brushing a sharply manicured hand through long unstyled hair before pulling back a lipstick adorned upper lip with her pinky to show them off.

"You mean these?" She asked teasingly. "Sure, just say please next time."

[ 👤; my application to become Yiyi's belt - i'll hold your pants, your waist, your hands, and your legs on the mattress, like batman's multifunctional belt or wtv ]

It took several seconds for the maknae to read the text aloud in her native language, tongue running across the tip of her canines to maintain focus whilst she paused to silently ponder over the meaning before a mischievous grin slowly spread onto her lips.

"They'll cut this out if I can't say it, but I actually know who that fan is." She giggled, tilting her head slightly. "She runs a popular fan account and we met several times already...so next time we see each other be sure to repeat that to me."

[ 👤; so we all saw Mei tearing up when performing her solo 'The Abyss' right, but i was wondering... is it normal that i'm crying from between my legs??? ]

"Music is very much up to interpretation." Meiying began, brushing back a strand of hair before staring right at the camera. "I'm glad that me begging on my knees has such an impact on your... hormones."

When finishing that sentence, mismatched eyes looked up at the large man sitting right next to her through long lashes as his grip appeared to tighten on the phone in his hand - a singular eyebrow raising in what many interpreted to be a warning.

[ 👤; you guys focused on the wrong thing when mei told us she smoked, because me personally i also wanna be in her mouth and between her fingers]

In the editing phase, staff members included the video reference by the anonymous fan behind this rather suggestive comment ; the young woman was leaned onto the seat of her motorcycle, laughing at something said by nearby friends before blowing out the smoke towards the ground, absent mindedly twirling the burning cigarette between her fingers.

"I don't think she's dominant like that." Minghao teased, wrapping an arm around his childhood friend's shoulders. "She only plays that way in front of cameras."

Mingyu's breath could be heard catching in his throat through the sensitive mic, which was not missed by the older man's gaze already locked on his own - several beats of silence passing between them before Vernon quickly moved on.

[ 👤; Mingyu is stronger than i'll ever be because if that gorgeous woman ever sat on my lap we'd be making out naked by now ]

"How do you know it's not happening in private?" The man in question asked, wrapping an arm around her waist before letting his hand stray towards the lower part of her hip.

The maknae that had been teasing members through their own comments went silent the second his fingers brushed against bare skin, cheeks flushing into a deeper red than the accents on her nails. Mingyu took notice of this demeanor change and leaned down to press smirking lips against the side of her neck, moving his large palm to her thigh as he smiled charmingly at the camera.

"Just kidding, SEVENTEEN are just very good friends, our Carats know this."

[ 👤; i thank god everyday that mei ended up in a male group because thanks to those hip thrusts i'm now pregnant with twins ]

Seungkwan nearly made their distracted maknae choke on the water she was drinking after reading the tweet in their language much louder than the previous ones, some of the liquid spilling down her shirt as she looked over at her boyfriend's phone to make sure those words were indeed written on their screens.

"I'll-" Meiying's accent became heavier due to embarrassment. "Uhm...I'll come visit them I guess...or arrange for some child support-"

[ 👤; Mei has so much duality on stage bc one moment she's performing like she's going through a divorce and the next she's begging the camera to eat her out ]

The young woman's lips parted in shock as the member most fluent in that language made very weak attempts to paint this comment in an innocent light, yet the way she laughed at every word that left his mouth silenced him rather quickly. Without much care about idol image that had already been shattered the moment filming began, she leaned over to confirm the translation with him and when a shy nod came as an answer she looked over at their managed standing to the side with amusement in her eyes.

"Well uh..." Meiying cleared her throat, slowly losing her words. "I mean if-if it gives you guys the desire to do so then I'm uhm...glad?"

"Didn't you say that your fans were the most innocent before we started filming?" Vernon chuckled, turning to look at her. "They have very interesting thoughts-"

⏸─────• 16:11 . . Replay ; Zhen Meiying Cuts (?)

Taglist ; @prbywoo, @angie-x3, @piratekingateez2001, @marissa-11

A/N : Special thanks to Freaky Anon who sent me a very interesting Doc of inspiration! (This didn't turn out how I wanted it to but I kept getting stuck so I figured I'd just post it and edit it later if I got some feedback and/or better ideas)

[creatingblackcharacters]

This is maybe not the right place for this, but here goes anyway.

I run a small roleplay community for ocs! It's really great, and for the most part, members tend towards being pretty inclusive and thoughtful. We've had a couple incidents resulting in bans, but ultimately things are usually ok.

...usually.

The thing is, in an online community, there's no way to tell someone's race unless they've stated it. We have a few members who have mentioned at some point or another that they're Black, but far, far more who are ambiguous via anonymity! (i said small. its a couple hundred, but most are inactive)

So: a few times I've run into the issue where someone's Black character or character design COULD have some stereotypical or negative implications regarding their race..... OR this could be a Black person innocently creating a character that happens to have some traits that, while technically fitting a stereotype, are also just traits they like to see in their characters!

So I guess what I'm looking for is advice on it how to handle this like, delicately - it feels inappropriate to just ask 'are you Black' in response to someone describing a character who could be an Angry Black Woman or could be a Black woman who is angry (as a light example), especially as I myself am white! While I feel it'd be totally ok for me to call out other white folks, I'd feel REAL bad if I tried to say something about racism and then get told that the person I'm talking to is, well, Black.

No worries if this isn't the place for it, but I'm ready to listen if it is!

Sorry for the wait; I wanted to ask my partner in crime his opinion, but he's been bedridden for a few days. He is alive now, so I'll hand it to him:

☕Hot Chocolate: Hello! So first and foremost I think you're doing great with handling issues as they arrive. As you stated, it's very difficult to monitor and catch race baiters online because they never have to reveal themselves. The best you can do is ask them privately, and if something comes up later, you did your due diligence, ban them. In my experience (which is mostly outside of fandom spaces) when you ask a Black person if they're Black, they usually just say yeah? It's those who get overly offended that are the questionable ones, imo.

Ice: I will add this in addition; if you plan on approaching someone about racism you DAMN sure better know what you're talking about. Be sure that this thing you're discussing is potentially an issue. Tbh, you can solve that problem by getting a Black mod. Having leadership that is aware of something that you might not be would make those conversations smoother to have. You'd just need to make sure you're protecting that Mod from the inevitable disrespect they will receive from participants who think they don't have to respect the Black mod or treat their word as equivalent.

[salv3tion]

— Mizi + Ivan's Genetics = How Till Feels..?

So.. everyone's seen the kid with Mizi's hair and Ivan's eyes, right? If not, here is an image.

We know from the other "children" that the chosen people that make one are from the song covers, but I feel like this one may be more specific.

We know that Till smiled at the kid because it had slightly pressed itself against the glass and looked up because something caught its attention (the sound of his motorcycle). Yes, it was a way to introduce Till back into the narrative, but I believe that it also highlighted his interest in Mizi & Ivan because any other kid would do. So why that one specifically? This moment seems intentionally directed. It subtly suggests a deeper connection potentially to Mizi and Ivan. The child catches Till's attention, and the implication is that it reflects someone important to him, or perhaps even a mixture of both.

In Mi Vida Loca the lyrics originally sounded like they were intended for Mizi, however, as the song progressed it began to sound like Till was writing about Ivan.

· "Don't you love me? ... Don't you hate me?" Also references to how Ivan seeks his attention, both in a positive and negative way. Till assumes Ivan loves him due to the way he always maintains close proximity, but he's conflicted when Ivan causes conflict between them. This lyrical progression shows his emotional confusion. While Till clearly admires Mizi, Ivan seems to occupy a more emotionally deeper space in his heart.

· "I get scared again like an idiot, widen the distance between us." We know that Till had a close connection to his producer, Io and that attachment may have made him more afraid of accepting and returning affection. It could be a reference to how Ivan is shown to be "pushing" his affection down Till's throat during the diamond(?) scene in Karma. He distances himself from Ivan because of it.

Omg... This kinda sounds like I'm just yearning for Ivantill content while highlighting Mizi LOLL trust me on this please..

Mizi having the hair and Ivan having the eyes could've been a stylistic choice, but.. it could hold more meaning. On the first glance, it holds a very strong resemblance to Mizi BECAUSE of the hair. Upon closer inspection, we see hints of Ivan. Immediately after, we see Till. It hints at Till's confusion in love because at first we know he obviously holds great admiration for Mizi, but underneath, Ivan stands more firmly as the eyes are more essential than hair. Hair is often a surface-level trait that's eye-catching. Eyes, however, are core to identity. The immediate visual impression is Mizi, but the lasting emotional recognition is Ivan, just like Till’s evolving understanding of his own feelings.

Tell me if this is a reach...... I feel like I'm just yapping because I'm desperate...

[luvendiary]

predispositions / g. weasley

george weasley x reader

summary: george weasley had always had a predisposition towards slytherins. a meeting in his hidding place changes that. a/n: i'm sorry for taking so long with this one. i had it written for a while now, but didn't have the time to revise it and make the final touches. also, would you believe me if i said that the bomb-ass line about broken things came about because i ripped some brand-new (and fairly expensive) pants that same day, and i had to keep repeating that in my head over and over. manyway, hope you like it. 4k words. non proof-read. no use of y/n. based on this request <3

The Owlery was usually empty mid-week. Most students only came to send letters home on the weekends—or when a Howler was absolutely necessary.

It wasn’t what most people would have called a peaceful place, due to the screeching of birds, their usual fluttering and not to mention the smell. 

Still, it was where George Weasley usually went to find small moments of calm. It fit him just right, he didn’t need silence. Just space. 

Which is why, the soft sound of a song he couldn’t quite name would have been a welcome surprise, if not for the implication that there was someone currently invading his place.

He stopped just at the top of the winding stone stairs. Trying to weigh his possibilities. Considering turning around completely and coming back later.

However, something kept him anchored in place. It might have been the melodious voice that accompanied the melody, or perhaps the fact that he was almost entirely sure it was a muggle song. 

The cold winter air carried the tune, projecting your voice. He edged closer, pressing against the stone as he peered around the archway.

The sight was one that surprised him. He recognized you.

Although he wished he didn’t. 

Your green robes were not entirely up to his liking. 

You were standing at the far end of the Owlery. Softly petting what he assumed to be your owl. Your singing wasn’t a performance, but rather something you appeared to do automatically. 

Your fingers absentmindedly rested under the beak of the owl, making him coo back at you. You smiled.

George took a careful step back, his shoes scuffing against the old stone with a faint scrape.

The noise echoed louder than he'd intended.

You turned instantly, posture tensing, hand halfway to your wand.

He winced as he stepped out from the archway. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up. Was just…” He gestured vaguely behind him, trying not to meet your eyes. “Leaving.”

Your eyes narrowed, the initial fright giving way to wary curiosity. “Weasley?”

He cleared his throat, already halfway turned back toward the stairs. “Yeah. Just needed some air. This is usually my—y’know—hiding spot.”

A long pause stretched between you, filled only by the faint shifting of feathers and the wind whistling through the tall windows.

“How long were you standing there?”

George looked over his shoulder, sheepish. “Long enough to think you’ve got a hell of a voice. Not long enough to make it creepy, I swear.”

You blinked in surprise. 

“That sounded dangerously close to a compliment,” you said, turning back to your owl.

George gave a short huff of laughter, stepping just a bit further into the Owlery. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You smirked faintly and resumed petting your owl, though your eyes flicked toward him with cautious curiosity. “Bit surprising, coming from a Weasley.”

George tilted his head. “What, a compliment?”

“No,” you said softly, brushing a feather from your owl’s chest. “You talking to a Slytherin without your wand pointed at me.”

That made him pause, arms folded as he leaned against the stone wall. “Fair enough,” he admitted. “Though you lot don’t exactly go out of your way to make friends.”

You arched a brow, but your tone remained even. “You lot?”

“Well,” he said, glancing meaningfully at your green-trimmed robes, “you’re not exactly known for singing Muggle songs, are you?”

You straightened slightly. “So you did recognize it.”

George’s expression turned thoughtful. “Yeah. My dad’s got a thing for Muggle music. That was… what, The Mamas and the Papas?”

“‘Dream a Little Dream of Me,’” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “My mum used to sing it while cleaning the house.”

His brows rose. “Your mum?”

You nodded. “She’s a Muggle. Or was. Died a few years back.”

Something shifted in George’s expression—less surprise now, more consideration. “So… you’re not—?”

“A pure-blood?” you finished for him, quirking a brow. “Not even close.”

He hesitated. “Huh. Guess I just assumed—”

“Because I’m a Slytherin,” you said flatly.

George opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly caught.

You crossed your arms. “Look, I get it. Slytherin has a reputation. But we’re not all like them.”

“Them meaning Malfoy and his merry band of prats?” he offered.

You cracked a smile. “Exactly. Bad news tend to be the loudest too.”

He exhaled, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “Suppose that’s fair. I’m not exactly Percy, either.”

You laughed, unexpectedly, and he found he rather liked the sound of it.

“It’s okay. People see the green and jump to conclusions. Ambition’s not a crime.”

“Neither is being able to lie like a politician, I suppose,” he teased.

“That’s a survival tactic.”

George’s grin widened. “So’s sarcasm.”

“That’s rich coming from you, wouldn’t you say?” you couldn't help but grin.

George held up a hand in mock surrender, then walked further into the space. His boots made a soft sound against the straw-littered stone as he crossed to where you sat near the arched window, the cold wind brushing past him like a curious cat. He didn’t ask, but eased himself down onto the ledge opposite you, close enough to speak without shouting over the hooting.

For a moment, you just looked at each other. Neither hostile.

Then he tilted his head. “So, what other Muggle stuff are you hiding up here? Any Bowie? Beatles?”

You blinked. “You know Bowie?”

“Please,” he scoffed, placing a hand over his heart. “My dad has ‘Life on Mars?’ on a charmed cassette that never shuts off. It's haunted me since I was seven.”

You laughed. “Alright, that’s fair. I do like Bowie. I’ve got some old tapes from my mum—Fleetwood Mac, Queen, a bit of Aretha Franklin. Also…” You hesitated, slightly sheepish. “ABBA.”

George pulled a dramatic face. “ABBA?”

“Hey.” You pointed at him. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve danced around a kitchen table to ‘Waterloo.’”

He laughed, and it was bright and unbothered. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you that. So you just come up here and sing to birds?”

“Better than people,” you shrugged, nudging your owl gently with the back of your knuckle. “They’re a great audience.”

George smirked. “I’ll take your word.”

You smiled faintly. The wind shifted a bit, tousling your hair. You made no move to fix it. “Despite your first impression of me, I don’t sing a lot. Just on special occasions…and Wednesdays."

He watched you for a beat longer. “You’re not what I expected.”

You glanced over at him, brow raised. “What did you expect?”

“I dunno. Something colder. Meaner. Bit of a snake in the grass.”

“Disappointed?”

He grinned. “Bit. I was preparing myself for some scathing comment about my shoes.”

You looked down at his scuffed boots. “They are tragic.”

He barked out a laugh. “See, now you’re just showing off.”

You leaned back slightly against the stone and studied him. He looked like he belonged there—wild red hair tugged by the breeze, eyes crinkled with humor but resting with unusual ease.

You tilted your head. “I used to think you and your brother were one person— when I was little, that is.”

“Oh, the ultimate insult,” he said, peering out the archway. “Do I look like I’d let someone else be this handsome?”

You smirked. “You’ve got something in your teeth.”

George turned slightly. “Do I?”

“No.”

He blinked, then looked at you sidelong, grinning. “You’re awful.”

You offered him a toothy grin that didn’t make it to your eyes. “That’s the Slytherin charm.”

George shook his head, still smiling, and leaned back on his hands, gazing out at the snowy peaks beyond the window. For a few quiet seconds, there was nothing but the sound of wings, the cold wind, and your owl’s sleepy hoot.

Then he asked, more gently, “Doesn’t Malfoy give you a hard time for…you know…”

“Being a half-blood?”

He nodded.

You shrugged. “I’m sure he tries to. They all do.”

“If he ever does, do tell me about it,” he couldn’t help but try to suppress a grin.

“You’ll save me?”

“I’m sure I’ll try to.”

It was your turn to try and hide a smile.

You both fell silent again—not awkward, just still.

Then George glanced sideways. “So what else should I know about you?”

You leaned forward slightly. “I once stole four chocolate frogs from Flitwick’s office and fed them to Mrs. Norris.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

You held the pause—just long enough—then deadpanned, “No.”

He laughed so hard he nearly startled the owls.

You started noticing George Weasley more. If that was even possible.

Instead of associating him with the noise and explosions that plagued the castle on a daily basis, you now knew him as the guy from the Owlery. And along with that, came other attributes. The guy whose laugh was as infectious as the common flu, or the guy who didn’t flinch when you were sharp, or snort when you were soft.

You noticed he wasn’t as loud in comparison to his brother. You were fond of that.

He had more freckles than him as well. 

His voice had a soft raspy base to it.

It wasn’t something you planned—this noticing.

But it crept into your days like ink spreading in water.

You’d see him in the corridor between classes, red hair unmistakable in the crowd, and feel the ghost of a smile tug at your lips. Sometimes, he’d catch your eye and tilt his head just enough to acknowledge you. Other times, he’d brush past with a wink or a muttered line from whatever song you’d sung that week.

It didn’t escape Fred’s notice either.

It was after Transfiguration when George plopped down beside his twin in the Great Hall, uncharacteristically quiet as he dug into a stolen treacle tart.

Fred narrowed his eyes. “Alright. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“That’s not your ‘nothing’s wrong’ face,” Fred said, gesturing with a crusty spoon. “That’s your ‘I’m screwed’ face.”

George didn’t answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the back of a girl’s head—she was across the room, laughing softly with someone from Ravenclaw. That laugh. It had been stuck in his brain for two bloody days.

Fred followed his line of sight.

“Huh,” he said. “Didn’t peg her as your type.”

George froze, spoon halfway to his mouth.

Fred’s grin widened like he’d just won a bet. “Knew it.”

“Nothing’s happening,” George muttered. “We talked once.”

Fred gave him a look that could melt walls. “Mate. I’ve seen you watching her in Charms. You don’t even pretend to take notes anymore. I asked you what a Summoning Charm was yesterday and you said ‘ABBA.’”

George groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I just—she’s not what I thought.”

“You hate ABBA.”

“Well, maybe I don’t anymore. Have you actually listened to Waterloo?”

Fred gave him a look as he tried to suppress a grin. “You are so screwed Georgie…” 

George groaned and dragged his hands over his head.

Fred’s cackling echoed in George’s ears all through the next class.

Later that week, Fred asked around—not in a nosy way, not really. Just light conversation, nudging curiosity. He cornered a girl in your year outside the Great Hall, offered her half a chocolate frog, and asked, “She ever had a thing with anyone here?”

The girl gave him a look that said, you think I’d tell you if she did?

But after a pause, she shrugged. “Not really. She’s too good at pretending she doesn’t care. Most people don’t have the patience to get past that.”

Fred smiled to himself.

George Weasley definitely had patience.

By the time Charms rolled around, George couldn’t focus for the life of him. You were seated two rows ahead, ink-stained fingers twirling your quill, humming softly under your breath while Flitwick droned on about wand motion refinements. George didn’t recognize the tune, but he caught himself leaning forward, trying to follow it anyway.

He wasn’t subtle.

Lee Jordan elbowed him halfway through the lecture. “You’ve been staring for ten minutes. Either ask her out or write a ballad.”

“Shove off,” George muttered, ears burning.

 The thing was—George didn’t like being confused. He was good at reading people, good at cracking them open with a joke and pulling something real from the wreckage.

But you were… not unreadable. Just careful. Measured. Like someone who’d been burned once too often and learned how to bleed behind closed doors.

And that made him want to know more.

Curiosity became a low, persistent thrum. Fascination, if he was being honest.

He found himself noticing things he never used to: how you took your tea with a slice of orange instead of lemon. How you waited until your dormmates left before humming softly under your breath at breakfast. How you once tapped your fingers against the bench in time with the rain during Herbology, like the storm had written you a song.

The next day, he found himself trailing behind a group of sixth-year Slytherins after lunch. Not the pompous sort, but the quiet ones. The kind who kept to themselves but didn’t carry the sneer like armor.

He spotted one of them—Mira Davis, you sometimes shared Herbology notes with her. She was threading a braid into her hair as they walked toward the greenhouses, talking idly with another girl.

George slid into step beside them without invitation.

Mira startled. “Weasley?”

“Mind if I bother you for a second?” he said easily, hands in his pockets.

She glanced around the corridor skeptically, most likely looking for George’s other half. She was not in the mood to be pranked.

The girls exchanged a look that clearly said absolutely, but Mira said, “Go on, then.”

“It’s about your friend,” George said, cutting straight to it.

“Which friend?”

“The one who hums—”

He was about to go on, give a description that would have most likely outed him, but the instant recognition on Mira’s face made him stop in his tracks.

The second girl leaned in. “You’re not going to prank her, are you?”

“What? No,” George said, a bit too defensively. “Why would I do that?”

“She hexed Montague last year for calling her a mudblood,” Mira said matter-of-factly. “Turned his eyelashes into moss.”

George grinned despite himself. “Brilliant.”

Mira squinted at him. “So what do you want with her?”

He hadn’t thought this through. He was sure they would have put up more of a fight.

“I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to know what kind of music she likes.”

The girls stared at him, matching arched eyebrows daring him to say something stupid.

“And maybe,” he added, “what she likes. Just in general. Things that make her laugh. If she’s allergic to chocolate frogs. That sort of thing.”

He watched as matching smirks appeared on the girl’s faces. 

“You fancy her Weasley!” Mira said.

George shushed her. “Merlin! Keep it down!” it was supposed to be a whisper but it came out as more of a breathy scream.

“You fancy her, Weasley!” Mira sing-songed again, delighting in the way his ears flushed pink.

George groaned and glanced around, as if the walls themselves might run off and tattle. “I don’t—fancy—look, I just…” he trailed off, dragging a hand over his face. “You know what, yeah. Fine. Maybe I do.”

“You’re so doomed,” the other girl said, voice thick with amusement.

George dragged a hand over his face. “Look, can you help me or not?”

Mira exchanged another glance with her friend, and George braced for a flat-out no. But instead, Mira sighed like it physically pained her to be useful.

“She’s got a soft spot for Bowie. Anything pre-Ziggy Stardust. And she’s obsessed with the way vinyl sounds compared to spells or magic recordings. Thinks they’re too clean.”

“She has a record player?” George asked, surprised.

“Snuck one into the dorm first year,” Mira said, clearly proud.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” George murmured.

“She’s weird about lyrics though,” Mira added, shrugging. “Says if she doesn’t feel it in her ribs, it’s not worth humming. Whatever that means.”

“It means she’s got taste,” George said before he could stop himself.

The girls looked at him again, this time with something like interest.

“She likes sour stuff. Hates people who are mean to first years. Collects broken things—buttons, quills, you name it.”

George’s brows furrowed. “Broken things?”

“She says they’ve already failed once. Less pressure.”

Something about that stuck.

Mira looked amused now, but not unkind. “You should talk to her.”

“Yeah…I’m trying.”

They raised an eyebrow simultaneously.

Mira studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Ask her something stupid. Tell her her humming’s off-key. Just something.”

“Yeah,” George said. “I’m working on it.”

George Weasley had started lingering. He didn’t do that before.

You had started to notice.

He’d linger outside Potions, brushing close but never quite bumping you. He stayed longer than needed at breakfast, because he knew you got caught up in the mornings while listening to your vinyls. He even risked Peeve’s pranks by staying longer in the halfway he roamed because he knew you took it whenever you changed classes. 

It wasn’t daily. It wasn’t predictable. But it was enough to feel real.

And slowly, without meaning to, you let your guard slip. You started humming without worrying who heard. Started walking the halls without checking over your shoulder. Stopped bracing for impact.

Then, just when you thought it might quietly fade into nothing—a boy in your year, one of those Slytherins who mistook cruelty for charm, leaned in as you passed and said something low and venomous.

You didn’t stop. Didn’t flinch.

But it burned. Somewhere deep in your throat.

George heard it.

He was down the hall, halfway into a conversation with Lee Jordan, when the words hit him like a slap. His jaw tightened.

“Oi!”

The older boy barely turned before George was in his space, taller by just enough.

“Say that again,” George said, voice calm but taut.

The boy sneered. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to go sniffing around Slytherin leftovers, Weasley.”

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to talk that much with that stinking mouth of yours,” George replied, without missing a beat.

Fred appeared at his side like a shadow, arms folded. “Everything alright, Georgie?”

“Peachy,” George said without looking away. “Just clearing up a misunderstanding.”

The Slytherin boy muttered something and backed off, and Fred clapped George on the shoulder with a raised brow.

George however, was not looking at the boy anymore. His gaze was set on you.

You—still walking, head high, like the words hadn’t touched you at all.

And that only made him want to know what else you hid.

He didn’t say what happened. Didn’t ask if you’d heard.

He just stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, expression unreadable.

You joined him anyway.

The breeze at the top of the Owlery was stronger than usual, ruffling your robes, carrying the scent of feathers and parchment. George leaned against the wall like he had all the time in the world. But when you stopped beside him, he straightened ever so slightly. Like some part of him had been waiting for you to show up.

You didn’t say anything for a while. Neither did he.

Then, softly, you broke the silence. “You didn’t have to do that.”

George didn’t look at you. “Sure I did.”

There wasn’t a trace of bravado in his voice. Just simple truth, like he was stating the weather. You glanced at him, eyebrows furrowed.

He caught the look and finally turned, eyes serious. “He was out of line. And if it wasn’t me, someone else should’ve said something.”

More silence. You fidgetted with your hands. You would have reached for a cigarette, but the owls weren’t fond of the smoke.

“You’re not what I thought either,” you said after a while.

He hummed in acknowledgement, peering down at you. “Is that a good thing?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned your elbows on the ledge, looking out at the sky beyond the towers. It was soft grey with streaks of gold—quiet, in a way Hogwarts rarely was.

“I thought you were just loud,” you said eventually. “You know…a typical Gryffindor.”

He chuckled at the irony.

You huffed a laugh through your nose. “You’re not just loud.”

“No?”

You shook your head. “You’re…unexpected.”

George turned to look at you then, properly. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. His freckles caught the dimming light like constellations.

“Well,” he said after a moment. “So are you.”

A barn owl swooped in and landed above your heads, talons scraping the stone as it shuffled into place. You both looked up, then laughed as it puffed itself up dramatically and gave a single, unimpressed hoot.

George leaned in a little, dropping his voice. “She doesn’t like when people get sentimental.”

“Good thing we weren’t,” you said, meeting his gaze.

But something in your chest shifted anyway. And judging by the way George’s eyes lingered on yours, you weren’t the only one who felt it.

He cleared his throat and took something out of his pocket—a tiny, carefully folded square of parchment. He held it out without a word.

You raised an eyebrow but took it.

Unfolded once.

Then twice.

A third time.

Inside was a list.

In George’s scribbled, lopsided handwriting:

Things She Likes (working list):

Sour sweets  David Bowie (but not the glam stuff) Vinyl (magic makes it sound fake) Broken things Sharp comebacks Soft humming Quiet courage Not being asked too many questions

You stared at it.

Then looked up at him.

He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve been trying— for a while now. To…I don’t know, talk to you. In some way other than dumb comments when I see you walk by.”

“George—”

“But…” he avoided your gaze, his voice quieter now, “you always looked like you were halfway somewhere else. Not in a bad way. Just…like your mind was already ten steps ahead of the room.”

You held the parchment a little tighter, unsure what to say. That was exactly how it felt most days—like you were watching everything from a distance, orbiting people instead of ever fully landing.

“So I started writing things down,” George said. “Little things I noticed. Stuff you’d say or wouldn’t say. It wasn’t meant to be anything. Just…” He paused, lips twitching like he was trying not to make a joke for once. “Guess I didn’t want to get it wrong.”

You studied him for a long moment. The wind tugged at his collar. His hands were back in his pockets, the very image of casual—if you ignored the tension in his jaw.

When you spoke, your voice was low. Steady. “You didn’t get it wrong.”

George looked at you then. The air between you felt impossibly still.

You turned the paper over in your hand, tracing the edge with your thumb. “I don’t usually let people notice things.”

“I know.”

A long pause followed. You could hear the owls shifting above, wings rustling. A distant bell from the castle chimed once, marking the hour.

You stared at the paper. Still trying to make sense of it. You kept re-reading it, trying to memorize these things yourself. It felt strange, seeing a piece of parchment containing such a clear piece of yourself. But it made something warm spread in your stomach.

“Can– Can I write something else?” you asked, already searching your satchel for a loose quill.

“Please do,” George replied as he watched you take out a quill being held together by a piece of tape near the center. He couldn’t help but smile.

You rested the parchment on the cool stone ledge and scribbled three additions beneath his slanted handwriting, careful not to smudge the ink.

Things She Likes (working list):

Sour sweets  David Bowie (but not the glam stuff) Vinyl (magic makes it sound fake) Broken things Sharp comebacks Soft humming Quiet courage Not being asked too many questions Rain Rocks that have been under the sun for a long time George Weasley

You didn’t hand it back right away.

For a few more seconds, you just looked at it, uncertain if giving this back would tilt something off-balance. If naming it made it real. If he’d laugh. Or worse, pretend not to see it.

But George didn’t rush you. He just stood there, a quiet steadiness about him that didn’t match the chaos people usually saw in him. And maybe that was why, in the end, you turned and held the parchment out with a small shrug.

His eyes skimmed the list—and stopped. You watched the moment he hit the new entries. His mouth twitched at “rain.” Curved a bit more at “rocks.”

And then— if you hadn’t been actively looking for it, you wouldn’t have noticed it— but he stopped breathing for just a fraction of a second. His smile fading completely.

He looked up.

There was a long moment where neither of you said anything. No jokes or semi-truths. Just his gaze locked on yours, eyes a little too wide for someone who usually had something clever ready on his tongue.

“Do you mean it?” he said eventually, voice low.

Your heart stuttered. “I didn’t write it to be polite.”

His laugh was quiet, almost disbelieving. “Right.”

“I’m serious.”

He nodded slowly, the edge of a smile threatening to give him away. “Alright. Good.”

You glanced toward the stairs. “I should go. Still owe Slughorn a three-foot scroll on bezoars, and I’ve only got… a sentence.”

George didn’t try to stop you. But he also didn’t step back.

Instead, he folded the parchment once more, tucking it gently into his pocket. “You know,” he said, “I had this whole plan. Weeks ago. Talk to her. Ask her something stupid. Tell her her humming’s off-key. Just—something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That was your plan?”

“Not my best,” he admitted. “Fred said I should dump a love potion in your tea and let fate sort it out.”

You snorted. “Tell Fred if he tries that, I’ll make sure he isn’t a redhead for a long time.”

George grinned. “I’ll let him know.”

You turned to go, but hesitated at the top of the stairs. 

He was still looking at the list. A soft smile curving his lips now that he thought you weren’t watching.

“Dont’ be a coward Weasley,” you said after a beat, a teasing smile accompanying the statement. “It doesn’t suit you.”

 He looked up, he couldn’t suppress the smile now. “Noted.”

You gave him a small, crooked grin in return and finally took the first step down. The stone was worn smooth from years of footsteps, but it still felt unfamiliar under your feet, like the ground hadn’t quite caught up to the moment yet.

You didn’t say goodbye.

Behind you, George stayed still a while longer, listening to your footsteps fade down the winding stairs, the folded parchment still warm in his pocket.

He didn’t need to unfold it again to remember the last line.

He already knew it by heart.

[the-blue-countess]

So I watched Malignant, and oh my god.

Excellent film, although I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Very cool lighting, and a lot of interesting shots.

Gabriel was extremely cool - I do love a good queer coded villain, and Gabriel’s design just calls to me. He’s horrible beyond belief, and you can’t blame Serena or Madison for reacting the way they do, but there’s always the thought of “what if he had been loved?” Does he not have the right to a body he inhabits? Why should Madison (or Emily) get full control? Does he not deserve to live, and in the state that he is in, without being forced to change? Perhaps I’m thinking a little further into the whole medical rights angle, but I was fully ready to accept the doctors as being the villains for like, half the film. It certainly has some philosophical implications.

Also, his hair and long cloak/coat/dress is very nice. Love the whole look.

MALIGNANT (2021) dir. James Wan

@lgbtqcreators creator bingo - color

[beloveds-embrace]

angst concept i offer to you on bended knee!! not a request for a fic or anything, you’re just such an angst fiend that this idea gnawed at me and i was thinking of your absolutely incredible alternate fae au. not that this is similar to that, it just put me in the mood for heartbreak.

neglected!reader in a world where neglected bonds (soulmate, a/b/o, hell even just magically established) can break on their own.

it doesn't happen often and honestly it's kind of taboo. it doesn't take much to maintain — a meaningful scenting here and there (if a/b/o), or maybe a shared quiet evening together, or even just the acknowledgement of shared feelings in a smile — and of course, ideally, the love. doesn't even have to be romantic love. the parties involved just have to feel valued and safe. it basically boils down to security, like an animal’s instinct telling them if their group is safe to stay in. bonds usually only ever break outright if someone is ousted; alone for a long period of time, allowed to wither.

but as it turns out, it can also happen if someone believes wholeheartedly that they’ve been left behind. a marker that you need to find a new place to belong, for survival’s sake. it’s not even that they pushed you away on purpose, really. it wasn’t even malicious. it just snowballed, excuse after excuse, general assumption that someone else was picking up the slack. you never really complained, after all, and you were around them often enough. that was fine, wasn’t it?

the most disturbing part? the uncanny way you don’t seem to even notice. the connection having grown so weak that ordinary friendship, ordinary passing conversation feels about the same. your placid smile is disturbing. you looking at them and asking what’s wrong is horrific on an instinctual level. they can’t feel you anymore, and the bond won’t rekindle because you can’t feel the difference.

(optional angst bonus for extra hurt, but imagine if being ousted like that — a bond breaking one person off from a group — has like. vaguely negative implications. not huge ones bc that’s faded over time as people became more aware of unhealthy environments and whatnot, but because most bonds are so based on healthy relationships these days, being rejected from everyone in a group at once usually implies something was “off” with them. watch that be internalised before the abandonment. oof.)

Did 😭 you 😭 at least 😭 kiss 😭 the 😭 brick 😭 before 😭 you 😭 threw it 😭 at me?😭😭😭

This is so much pain… so much sadness i love it but STILL 😩💔

[basedonconjecture]

Every time I re-read The Wigmaker Job, I'm reminded how it's so much about Lucanis’ hubris to me. That's not to say he was deserving of imprisonment and torture but it's like...something of that nature was always going to happen while he was on the path he was on. His choices led him there but also they were always going to, ykwim? From start to finish, he's just on a collision course with the inevitable in TWJ.

He's cocky about the Forfex contract, bordering on arrogant at times, dismissive of Illario's concerns and questions. He's done this exact job a hundred times before. He knows the beats, memorized the steps, they'll be in and out. Easy peasy. Of course that's not what happens and things might have turned out differently had he just killed Forfex and walked away when he was supposed to. Except that's not who Lucanis is, right, he was never going to turn away from that. Yes, he's a talented assassin and highly sought after, but the thing that sets him apart from his colleagues is his empathy. It's why he also earns the respect of the Shadow Dragons. There's an implication that his jobs in Minrathous (and presumably elsewhere in Tevinter) also involved helping slaves based on some banter between Lucanis and Neve.

Killing the hair spider demon thing is ultimately what leads him to earning the Demon of Vyrantium moniker and basically seals his fate wrt Zara. But if it hadn't been that job and that demon, it would have been another. That's what happens to heroes—and, to be very clear, I'm not calling Lucanis a hero in the sense that he is one but that is the narrative position he holds within the story of TWJ specifically. (Which is the irony of his "We're not heroes anywhere" line. He doesn't view himself as a hero even while actively saving people and killing the monster. Ugh.) That job earned him a permanent place in Crow mythology, for better or for worse, and legends are often remembered more by their falls than their feats. There's only so far one can rise, after all.

Then beneath all that, there's this growing tension between Lucanis and Illario, the culmination of which is the conversation in the tavern. Not only has Lucanis been dismissive of Illario, you can tell this is a conversation they've had before, and he's been pushing it off and pushing it off, throwing himself into his work to avoid it, and hoping it resolves itself on its own. (It won't.) The moment he fails to make Illario the promise Illario wants him to make, the course is set for them. It would have been so easy for Lucanis just to make that promise, whether he meant to or no, and he doesn't. He chooses not to.

That final conversation is so indicative of how much distance there truly is between Lucanis and Illario, how much they're presuming to know each other, each banking on how close they used to be, but they're completely missing one another. Lucanis acknowledges this distance but he's so completely in denial that Illario's resentment is festering and going to become a real problem for him. Obviously knowing where this moment eventually leads them, this moment hits significantly harder in retrospect, but, even so, it's a big moment of foreshadowing. The confrontation has to happen, there's no way of avoiding it, but it isn't going to end how either of them wants it to.

It's really well done as a set up for Lucanis' arc in VG. While I imagine it was written with some of the original story concepts in mind—some of which I, personally, would have found more interesting on the whole—I do ultimately like that the line carried through is centered on Lucanis' growth from emotional repression/compartmentalization/avoidance to taking a proactive role in determining his own happiness. Even in a hardened route, he's decided to find a way to separate from Spite for this purpose. In romancing either Rook or Neve, he's taking the steps to express his feelings in a more direct way than previous attempts. And, if Rook gets to help him through the Inner Demons quest, you get to see him make the active choice to work on those things. I just really like that that's the focus of his character development as opposed to being about familial obligation vs personal freedom.

[goldensunset]

what really gets me about ghetsis as far as being an awful abusive father is how he is both 1. pure unapologetic evil and 2. good at convincing his victim he is anything else

like. there’s no nuance. ghetsis is Awful. he is an absolute piece of work. (even then in order to make him interesting as a pure evil guy we get a few hints and implications about him wishing he could’ve been a chosen one, and then coping with that in the most violent way possible. like they give him a motive without trying to excuse him.) and unlike even the worst of other pokevillains he never once repents or tries to justify himself as anything else, outside of shrieking that he is too perfect to have lost

but. after everything, n can hardly comprehend the idea that ghetsis does not love him. he either doesn’t realize it or won’t face it. in both games, in both manga arcs, what we see is ghetsis hurting n and n… basically just refusing to even acknowledge it. we never see him really emotionally process all that. he mentions it’s hard to call ghetsis ‘father’ in b2w2 but that’s basically it. the plot after those points just moves on and n doesn’t mention the guy who carved out his soul and stomped on it multiple times. i love repression yay. i’m sure part of that is just N Autism Moments but like ghetsis is absolutely responsible for that unhealthy attachment isn’t he?

cus like ghetsis does a great job of seeming really nice in public. he is a fantastic speaker. it’s a small scene but in castelia city in the first game bianca is so overwhelmed when her stolen pokémon is returned that she thanks him, and iris straight up acknowledges how odd it is to thank team plasma when they stole it in the first place. but ghetsis messes with bianca’s emotional state in only a few lines. that kind of thing is surely representative

you really see the horrors of this false persona of kindness more in the manga (read the bw manga and especially the b2w2 manga please please please). the way the pokespe artists draw him sometimes… they make him look so soft and kind in certain scenes. someone’s nice grandpa. when he has a soft smile with those eyebrows and actual light in his eyes? it’s chilling. because you look at that face and you just know that’s the face n grew to love all those years. that’s who n thinks he’s reaching out to. and it’s sickening. like…

that fake kindness is more terrifying than anything awful ghetsis has ever done because it’s so real. that’s the kind of thing that messes with people especially young vulnerable children. i can verify that inconsistency is actually the worst thing to deal with in a parent. ghetsis must have been directly awful to n on at least a few occasions bc otherwise how would he have beat that wild child into submission. that constant flipping back between Nice Man and Angry Man must’ve been a real treat for n to deal with!

but n is selectively choosing to remember only the best moments. as a coping mechanism and also bc he needs to believe there is love for him in this world it’s a basic psychological need you have to have hope. again, n almost never directly faces anything awful that happened to him as a child. the most you get is that optional scene in b2w2 where you can force him to go back into his tiny underground prison and he gets so uncomfortable he has to leave. then he goes right back to repressing it!

basically just. it takes a special brand of master manipulator and actor to turn a kid into someone so unwilling to stand up for himself, so unwilling to draw a line, because getting to live in the beautiful fantasy world in which he has a father who loves him for even a second more is worth the risk of getting hurt again. and he does get hurt. bad. screamed at and called a freak without a human heart yet again, even nearly murdered in the manga… and he doesn’t even have anything to say on the matter afterwards in any media. and if given another chance he would most likely fall for it again. augh. nice work ghetsis you did a great job on this one

[evilkitten3]

#i honestly dont get the implication here#im reblogging because its good art#and also maybe so someone can tell me why kakashi is nervous that sasuke heard about his revenge for asuma#i feel dumb

in pt one kakashi tells sasuke not to go seeking revenge on his brother. sasuke goes "wtf do you know" and also offers to kill everyone kakashi cares about so kakashi can understand what he's going through. kakashi goes "well sure but everyone i care about died already", which even then we knew wasn't true bc of gai and the dogs and also he seems to get alone with asuma and kurenai ok, but shippuden made it worse by introducing yamato, who has a deep personal tie to kakashi and calls him senpai

then in shippuden shikamaru threatens to desert if tsunade doesn't let him go avenge asuma (which in hindsight is pointless bc none of the three of them separate or together are capable of taking on tsunade anyway so she could've just. let them desert and then arrested them herself. she was literally right there) and tsunade says "i'm not sending three chuunin to take on two of the biggest threats to the village right now when all we really know about them is that they apparently can't die", at which point kakashi pops up completely unprompted and goes "ok what if i babysit tho" and tsunade i guess decides she'd rather be getting drunk than dealing with this so she allows it

meanwhile once sasuke learns where he should actually be aiming his vengeful wrath, kakashi basically goes "ok clearly this means i should kill you"

to sum up:

asuma - died in battle, asked shikamaru to keep an eye on his gf and unborn child (chouji and ino were there also), was buried and mourned as a hero of the village. shikamaru ultimate blasts hidan's body to pieces and leaves him to wait until his sacrifice-powered immortality runs out and he dies of starvation. this is possibly the most unpleasant death in the series and definitely the most drawn-out. we actually never learn how long this will take, so he might still be stuck in that hole waiting to die

the entire uchiha clan - slaughtered in middle of the night (probably closer to evening tbh) by the guy who was supposed to be their next leader, their deaths were used to torture the only person spared multiple times for the explicit purpose of egging him on to vengeance to fulfill their murderer's suicide-by-baby-bro wish, were effectively completely forgotten by anyone aside from said survivor to the point where his own teammates didn't know anything about the slaughter, and also btw it was ordered by the village higher-ups bc the clan was sick of being discriminated against in the village they helped found and were going to do a coup about it. sasuke eventually discovers this after fighting his brother until he literally dies (btw he was sick and overexerted himself on purpose to give sasuke the. cathartic release of thinking he'd murdered his own brother), at which point he swaps tracks, hunts down the mastermind, and asks to know if what he was told was true. he gets a "wow i can't believe your brother told you that. what a traitor" and decides he's fine with killing this guy, which is not helped when the guy reveals that he's stolen eleven magic eyeballs from sasuke's murdered clan, at least one of which belonged to someone sasuke knew personally. sasuke has a mental breakdown bc he's going through a lot right now and says fuck this stupid baka village, and kakashi who has also just found out about the whole state-sponsored genocide thing decides to try and kill him (this is after sakura also tried to kill him - unclear if sasuke was aware of that at any point but like i said he was having a really bad day - but she did it bc no one bothered to tell her the truth so as far as she knows sasuke is just crazy now. kakashi brilliantly then sends her away from the fight so she can continue not knowing what's happening even though her not knowing what's happening just nearly got her chidori'd in the back. but g-d forbid women be involved in the story they're main characters of ig)

so yeah sasuke's a bit miffed

He didn't want to be put on Torture City again, Sasuke.

[majkuindelululand]

Are You Sure?! Season 2 — or how Jikook keep making me question my sanity

So. I wasn’t planning to post anything today. But then I saw a video — not a cute reel, not an edited clip, just a blurry, kind of uncomfortable recording of the boys. Two of them. In what looked like a store somewhere in Vietnam.

There was a cameraman with them, which to me is proof enough - this isn’t a “private vacation moment.” This is content. And if it’s just the two of them? Let’s be real. We all know what this is about. It screams “Are You Sure?!” all over again.

Now, I don’t want to discuss the video itself — it doesn’t sit right with me. It’s not ethical, and honestly, we shouldn’t have even seen it. But the implications? The timing? The choice of who's filming with whom? That’s something worth talking about.

Let's talk about AYS1!

Toothbrushes, chaos and quiet support

Are You Sure?! Season 1… well. It happened. And it gave us everything we love about our two: chaos, giggles, clowning around, totally unnecessary physical contact of questionable intensity, inside jokes no one else understood, over-eagerness, awkward silences, suspiciously convoluted explanations, and a complete lack of alibi for 90% of what went down — all sprinkled with extremely subtle “we’re not saying anything but we’re saying everything” vibes.

But AYS1 was also rushed. I imagine the plan had been brewing for years, but the looming threat of their long separation finally pushed them into taking it seriously. It wasn’t just chaos born from the wild minds of two hyper men with zero financial limitations. It was also the pressure of JK’s packed solo schedule, and Jimin’s eternal war with his own health.

I can’t imagine the stress they were under. But I can try.

One recurring pattern? Jimin just kept showing up. Wherever JK was, suddenly — there he was too.

They’d go, do some cute ridiculous stuff, film, and then rush back to real life, so JK could stick to his schedule.

I know this might be an unpopular opinion, but I’ve always felt (keyword: felt, not claimed as objective truth!) that out of the two of them, Jimin has healthier coping mechanisms.

Watching JK over the years, I’ve always had the sense that if anyone was struggling with separation — it was him. If anyone was quietly afraid of what came next — it was JK.

So imagine this. JK, starting a whole new chapter of his career. Flying solo. Traveling the world as the face of BTS. Performing on his own — for the first time — without the guys who’d been beside him since he looked like a deer in headlights.

And on top of that? Knowing this was his last stretch with ARMY before putting on the uniform, before the military, before god knows what. Because being an idol in the army isn’t easy (and at least in Korea, that’s the general belief).

And then Jimin shows up.

He could have been working on his next album. He could have stayed home, blowing bubbles on the floor. He could have spent time with his family.

But no.

He flew to be with JK. Just for a couple of nights. To hold his hand. And say “it’s gonna be okay” as many times as JK needed to hear it.

Yes, yes — I melted watching their wild and truly unhinged dental hygiene rituals. But what hit me harder was that undeniable emotional support. There was no “ugh, do I have to?” There was no “what’s the point?”

And honestly? For those short clips? I wouldn’t have flown across the world. Not if I didn’t even know what I was doing there (see: episode one).Not for the money — especially not if I had as much of it as Jimin.

Mayby once, just for romantic stuff, but stil, just once. But Jimin? He did it to emotionally hold JK together.

JK came out of that show with a handful of new records, a mini-army of solo fan, some mosquito bites probably, a confirmed dislike of kayaks -- but more importantly: he walked away calmer.

More confident in his relationships, in his place in this relationship (romantic or not, it’s still one of the most important in his life), and carrying a pocket full of fresh, warm memories to go back to.

And the best part? He could talk about them with anyone.

Because the show was official. He could chat about those trips in the kitchen, during work, wherever — and it would be fine. Because those memories were soft, undeniably good, 99% about Jimin (with a lil’ Tae cameo), and most importantly: normalized.

No awkward silence. No nervous laughter. No hasty subject changes. Not like that time he took Jimin to Tokyo.

Jimin — not your soft little prince

Now don’t get me wrong. I focused on JK here because it’s sweet. Because his emotional needs hit me right in the chest.

But that doesn’t mean any of this was unimportant to Jimin. Quite the opposite.

Jimin has this... scattered protectiveness about him. He’s a Slytherin through and through — sassy as hell, sharp-eyed, calculating when he needs to be — but still someone who takes care of others, whether they ask for it or not.

Animals love him. Fans adore him. And one particular bunny… well. He’s especially loyal.

I don’t think Jimin can focus on anything if he’s worried that JK isn’t okay. I honestly believe that. And in that way? They’re a perfect match.

I’m bringing this up for a couple of reasons.

First: I’m a bit tired of the fanfic narrative where Jimin is this fragile little damsel in distress. He’s not.

Jimin is a badass.

The kind you do not want to have as an enemy. He may be soft-spoken, polite, and beautiful — but let’s not forget how many years of martial arts training he has under his belt.

And not just “he tried it once.” No. He was good. Really good.

Then he went off to the military and the general mood was: “Aww, they’re going together, how sweet! JK, take care of our little softie!”

Yeah, well. Just a few weeks in, we started hearing whispers that this “gentle, delicate” Jimin… was kicking ass.

Second reason I’m thinking about all this?

Just observing what their motivations might be — or could be — for filming season two so soon after coming back from the military.

This time? It might be calmer. Slower. With fewer outside obligations. And more space to just say:

“Hey. Everything’s changed. But also — nothing has. We’re still Jikook. You’re still me. I’m still you. We’re still together.”

And maybe, just like last time, the content is a pretext. An excuse. A distraction.

Because they’re not doing it for us. They’re doing it for each other.

Whether they’re romantically involved or not — doesn’t even matter. What matters is: they need to feel that nothing’s changed.

[ilovelumity3000]

Noelle is a Lesbian and Kris is Non-Binary. Despite that, lots of people still see Kris as a boy, and they also see Kris/Noelle as a "straight" ship.

The Weird Route has undeniable romantic and abusive implications - "Noelle Will Ride with me", forcing Noelle to get a ring for herself after saying "were something else", "YOUVE BEEN MAKING [hyperlink blocked]" with hyperlink blocked possibly meaning love, putting the thorn ring on Noelle's finger as shes panicking and pleading with "Kris" to stop...

Snowgrave doesnt feel like just corrupting an innocent girl into doing a Genocide Run

To me, we are also imposing a heteronormative relationship on two queer teenagers - with Kris playing a dominant "masculine" role that Commands, and with Noelle playing the role of the girl

And with the possibilty of Noelle being the one who was supposed to go into the closet that day with Kris, and NOT Susie, meaning that Noelle is The Girl...

With all the Meta storytelling in Toby Fox's writing and his stories thus far being about fiction and people relationship with fiction, and with Deltarune seemingly focusing a lot on the agency of fictional characters... I can't wait where all of these threads will end up

[freedelusionshere]

Okay, this is a very odd way to talk about Mikey to me? As "Carmen's brother" and then say he was "my best friend". Maybe it's just the tone of the season and all the questioning about where people belong?

Because later, Syd and Carmy will fight, and she will yell at him, "You're my partner!" (when she's never opened the DocuSign agreement as far as I can tell much less signed it) and he will get hot and yell back "I'm trying to be your friend!" (like that is the better thing here) and in back of that are a whole lot of shit with romantic implications leading up to this moment.

Carmy will also tell Richie that he is more than just a cousin he's like a brother, basically. And Richie will tell him he's an idiot for saying that.

But back to this scene where Richie is saying that Mikey was his best friend and not "like family".

Hmm.

THE BEAR 4.08 "Green"

[trickstersaint]

do you have any beginners advice for poetry? Also, what style of poem do you use?

TRICKSTERSAINT'S BEGINNER'S GUIDE TO POETRY:

read! find poems that you like, poems that you don't like, and take the time to notice the things that you like or dislike about them. maybe take some time to annotate a few. spend some time with the work that you'd like to emulate. we learn to write by reading, and that's as true of poetry as it is of fiction or scientific papers or children's books.

write! i am constantly saying this, but writing is not a talent handed down by god: it is a skill that you learn, and hone, and improve. write things that are silly, or trite, or derivative, or straight up bad: every piece of practice that you get is practice, and it's going to help you improve in the future. it's alright to not be writing masterpieces every time. you're only going to be able to make things you're happy with if you let yourself create things that you aren't happy with, as well.

use pen and paper! there's something scientific about the way that your brain processes things when you're writing them by hand (the longer physical task gives your brain more time to process things as you write/hand writing makes different connections in your brain) but i am not going to claim to be an expert on those things. what i can tell you is that i generally have an easier time with poetry when i'm writing on paper. plus it's more romantic... grounding... you get to sit around looking hot and mysterious writing in a notebook...

write down literally everything. my notes app is full of poetry snippets, and most of it never gets used, but every so often i get to revisit an idea and work a full poem out of it. save yourself the struggle of finding something to write about later by creating a little collection of your inspirations.

write the same poem over and over! there's only so many things to write about, and sometimes you hit a topic that you want to explore in a multitude of ways (or one that you can't decide on an approach to). it's okay to write five different versions of the same poem. again, practice is practice, and reworking the same poem is a great way to identify some of the techniques that you're using in your own work.

try different styles! experiment with line length, rhyme structures, enjambment. try a prose poem. get rid of all the punctuation. give concrete poetry a go. there's tons of things to explore, and you never know what you might end up loving. (i think the form i write in is best described as free verse!)

rhyming poetry is, most times, harder. i know it seems like the default because of the poems that most of us have to read in school, but what they don't tell you about shakespeare and the romantic poets and all those guys is that they were REALLY skilled at wordplay and it takes a lot of skill to find the right words and structures to make a rhyme work without making it sound trite. your poems don't have to rhyme if you don't want them to <3

poetry, in my experience, works better on implication. when you overexplain things, it prevents the audience from drawing connections for themselves. same principle as explaining a joke; it loses its punch if you don't let someone think about it for themself. practice leaving spaces in your work, rather than trying to fill in any possible confusion.

find a method of editing that works for you! another bonus of using pen and paper to me is that it's MUCH easier visually to edit things when they're in a notebook. crossing things out, drawing arrows to put lines in different places, scribbling a certain line at the top of the page so i don't lose it later, all of that works better for me because i have a more visual grasp on the situation. if you find it easier to do it some other way, though, find what works for you!

be gentle with yourself. non-negotiable. beating yourself up isn't helpful. treat yourself with the same grace as you would someone else; remember the difference between constructive and non-constructive criticism. you gotta be nice to yourself about things or you're going to kill the love and hope that you have for this new skill that you're tending to before it grows big enough to defend itself.

share! or don't! put yourself out there according to your comfort level, especially at the beginning. people who care about you will be gentle with you if you're not feeling confident. and if you're really looking to improve, comments from other people are going to be really valuable!

FINAL ADVICE. do whatever the fuck you want. poetry is a space of endless possibility and the best way to create things that you are going to love is by doing it YOUR way. you don't have to do anything you don't want to. you don't have to use any specific style, have to follow any specific forms, have to go with any specific topic. you don't have to cultivate a particular style. write seventeen sonnets about a speculative technological future and then a two-line poem about a bird you saw the other day. follow whatever sparks joy for you. it's your poetry and you get to make what you want of it <3 being a beginner just means that you have room and room and room to explore and learn and grow <3

[needtobehisprettyboy]

Do some people actually think that the innovator's competition in the AU episode is like the one that Viktor and Jayce went to?

[peep the gorgeous Chirean in the pic btw, completely unrelated to what I'm gonna say but me-wow 😻, I'm wondering if he's Scar and the implications of him being skinny compared to og universe Scar—or maybe it's the Jinxer Chirean cause similar build but there's no chunk taken out of his ear which, again, implications—but it's likely just a random (albeit handsome 😩) Chirean]

I've been wondering that for some time cause people have made animations/art/edits of Jayce and Viktor at the party like the one in the AU episode, but I haven't ever asked—until now *cue dramatic music*.

Anyway—

I don't think the competition Jayce and Viktor went to was anything like the one in the AU ep but back when I was still in tiktok there were people in the comment sections that seemed to almost think that?? Which?? Guys. . . no . . . I don't think so. . .

The alternative universe isn't just a universe without Hextech where Vi is dead. It is a universe where multiple huge events in the og universe either never happened or went down a different route. Silco and Vander are on good terms (note that Silco's eye is still damaged meaning that The Day of Ash still happened but that's a completely diff thing so I won't expand on that), Powder has better/actual coping mechanisms for her mental disorders, organized crime never took off, and, more importantly, Piltover and Zaun are intertwined.

Let me repeat, Piltover and Zaun are intertwined. Okay, maybe not intertwined. I don't quite know what word would describe them best, but they're together, at peace, and actually merged in their styles and community.

I mean look at that! A whole market on the bridge where before it was just a long path separating the bright topside from the dark undercity—and the undercity is dark no more! You've got light pouring in, the colors are bright, and there's vegetation around (there is a tree to the left on the bottom pic). Then you've also got Claggor with the flowers that are meant to help with the pollution in the fissures (something that people said Sky was working on in the og universe btw, shout out to her XP) and overall the universe is much better than the one we follow.

What I wanna focus on, though, is the merging (??) of Piltover's topside and undercity. Ekko and everyone else from the undercity have a different style. It's a style more similar to topside's style of clothing (boring and ugly—OH WHO SAID THAT?!?!) and you see people from the undercity casually hanging out on the bridge/topside of Piltover.

In the AU, the innovator's competition party is held at the Last Drop. Is that where the actual competition takes place? Idk cause I don't remember the episode well but I doubt it.

Anyway (again),

In the og universe, the innovator's competition is something both Jayce and Viktor go to. Jayce is a man who's been down to the undercity before, but who knows how often he actually goes down there and would he actually go to an innovator's competition held in the undercity?

He's gone down to the undercity for scrap metal as seen in the scene where Jayce and C go take his finds to his apartment while the Zaun kids are robbing him, but there's one thing that sticks out to me during his conversation with Viktor at the ledge and makes me believe the competition didn't happen in the undercity—they were in carriages. Jayce said he remembered seeing Viktor tinkering in the carriage near him. If Viktor and Jayce were in carriages during the competition?? How on earth would they dance??

I'm gonna guess the party in the AU episode was just that—a party. You've got the competition and then Vander threw a party to celebrate Ekko or something. I'm 60% sure that's what actually happened but idk and I'm too lazy to go rewatch arcane rn.

Anyway (for the third time),

Viktor doesn't seem like the type of guy to go to a party, so chances are he and Jayce only met up during the competition itself.

Unlike the alternative universe, the universe we follow is very much a universe where Piltover and the undercity are separated. Piltover's bridge doesn't have any stands with undercity vendors talking with enforcers casually and Topsiders in general are wary of the undercity or at least look down on those from the undercity as Vi herself had told Vander when she was a child that she grew up knowing she was "less than them" or something along those lines.

My point is that the competition had to have either been advertised strictly in the undercity and most innovators being from the undercity or strictly in the topside and most innovators being from topside. Considering Jayce called the competition the "Distinguished" Innovator's Competition, I'm going to guess it happened in the topside of Piltover and Viktor was only there cause he was having his education in Piltover.

While this makes it unlikely that the AU party happened in the og universe, I still think there's some interesting scenarios to make art of knowing what we do about their experiences in the Innovator's Competition. For one, Viktor's pov of being surrounded by innovators completely different to you, having different support, maybe the others having family there while his own family may or may not have been able to be there for him. Then we also have Jayce's pov with seeing Viktor and comparing himself to him—not thinking that he's better than Viktor, but thinking of his own stress and seeing Viktor believing that Viktor is far more out together than him while Viktor is freaking the fuck out lol

Yeah I don't have anything else to say idk I'm just rambling I don't know what the purpose of this is

Also, I say all this but my oblivious ass thought that JayVik had their innovator's competition when they were little kids and a tiktok commenter had to correct me that it was likely they were at least teens so. . . I don't blame people who think the party in the AU episode happened in the og universe 💀

(I am gonna judge a bit cause I'm bitter about that AU episode and hate seeing people form certain opinions thanks to that monstrosity of an EP but like I don't care much I was just curious and it's pretty interesting to think about the AU episode aside from it's timebomb elements and ugly clothing)