#hanging out as teens

[tacroyy]

the forest (on ao3) by tacroy, discworld, sybil ramkin & havelock vetinari, rated g, 1,405 words

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When she was young—actually, well into her late teens, but nobody else had to know that—she had a hard time with a particular idiom that she heard occasionally: can’t see the forest for the trees. “Sybil, I don’t understand you, sometimes,” her mother would say. “You know etiquette like the back of your hand, your penmanship would put an engraver out of work, and your Quirmian m'émeut aux larmes… but sometimes, you can’t see the forest for the trees.”

“What do you mean?” Sybil had asked, hoping for a key to understanding the phrase, but her mother would go on to say something like, “Lord d’Eath does not appreciate being reminded of his family’s Delicate Financial Situation,” or “One does not eat an entire roast duck in one sitting,” or “Her ladyship does not want to hear about microbial scale rot during the soup and salad courses at the Annual Assassin’s Kindness Kills Charity Dinner,” rather than actually explaining. So she internalized everything her mother told her in the hopes that, one day, one of her pieces of advice would fit into the puzzle of the saying and reveal its secrets.

The thing was that forests were made up of trees. That was the point of forests. Sybil puzzled over this for years. What on the disc were people trying to say? To see a forest, you had to look at trees. It made no sense. Was her mother trying to tell her that she needed to look at the big picture, the gestalt? She did. When she told Lord d’Eath that she found spending on family torturers to be a waste of money anyway, she was looking at the finances of The Estate As A Whole, as she’d learned on her father’s knee. When she ate an entire roast duck in one sitting, well—that was practically the definition of frying the biggest fish. When she described microbial scale rot during the early courses of the charity dinner to Lady Haxwell, it was because Lady Haxwell had just told Sybil about her gardener’s eczema, and Sybil had taken the vivid picture Lady Haxwell had painted of the angry sores and scaly dermatitis on the man’s inner arms and elbows as interest in the progression of dermal diseases. That wasn’t missing the forest at all. That was just showing someone how one tree was like another tree, and that way they could look at the forest together.

One day, when Havelock was upside down on the chaise lounge reading about palatal consonants and Sybil was wiring up a dragon skeleton, she said, “Havelock. Tell me about idioms.”

Havelock had just about fallen off of the chair in excitement; that is, he had looked up (or rather, down), snapped his book shut, and practically levitated into what Sybil thought of as his Lecturing Position Type C* (*Without A Desk, Seated). “Idioms,” said Havelock, “are a group of words established by usage as having a meaning not deducible from those of the individual words. For example, if you are nervous, you do not truly have butterflies in your stomach, unless you do and you also happen to be nervous, in which case a doctor should be called. You are simply nervous. But the commonly accepted phrase that we use to poetically name the concept of nervousness is to have butterflies in one’s stomach. Now, try to translate that to Quirmian—a literal translation, not conveying the sense. Say to a Quirmian, ‘Pardonnez-moi, j'ai des papillons dans le ventre,’ and they will offer you an emetic rather than an anti-emetic.”

He went on for a while, describing a number of idioms Sybil had never heard before and found delightful, like “a mouse’s tit” for something miniscule in one of the Agetean dialects and “like shitting it all out in one without even needing to wipe” for something that went extremely well in Hublandish and a term in Mithosian that, literally translated, meant “when the cervical mucus is the precise stretchy, stringy consistency best for successful procreation,” and idiomatically translated meant, “exactly ready.”

Sybil simply basked in this. Havelock was perfect for these sorts of masterfully organized mini-courses. Occasionally she would ask about a topic that Havelock did not already contain comprehensive knowledge of, like the history of opera or a review of rodent social behavior, and what followed was merely a delay of six to forty-eight hours (depending not on the complexity of the topic, but the physical location of relevant texts) before an exhaustive summary was presented to her like an offering to a sovereign.

Results had already come in. Sybil had always loved the opera, which Havelock had, previously, accepted as a Known Fact about her and left alone, much as one would gaze gently but disinterestedly upon the infant of one’s distant relative. But after his research date with operatic history, Havelock embraced music wholeheartedly. He still refused to attend the opera but would now discuss arioso and arias and could just as often be found reading scores as treatises on ligaments and lexicography.

Sybil said, “And what do you think the saying ‘can’t see the forest for the trees’ means?”

Havelock eyed her. “Are you asking because you want to know my perspective or because you want to know the linguistic perspective?”

“Both.”

“I think it refers to becoming distracted by or obsessed with the study of individual problems or forms rather than acknowledging the overarching issue. Linguists and laymen think that it refers to someone who gets caught up in details and therefore misses the opportunity to affect change.”

Sybil digested this for a while while Havelock tested out the difference between the voiceless palatal plosive and the voiced palatal plosive.

“So,” she said at last, “you think that there’s a difference between being distracted and obsessed, and getting caught up in something.”

“Of course,” said Havelock, as if this were obvious. “The common man often uses distraction and obsession pejoratively. This is inaccurate, of course. A distraction is merely an automatic reaction to something interesting—an animal impulse which can be controlled with training. And obsession is never applied correctly. You have noticed this, I’m sure. Someone is called ‘obsessed’ when they know the outs and ins and downs and ups of a subject to the extent that the someone calling them ‘obsessed’ becomes uncomfortable—a burden which ought to be on the one with the discomfort, not the one with the so-called obsession.”

Havelock paused to retrieve his notebook and pen. He kept talking while he wrote.

“Getting caught up, though, is the same as being swept along or—hm, this is a stretch, but be patient—or even the boiling toad. One can resist getting caught up or being swept along, but it is difficult to notice, as things have changed slowly, or are exciting—you don’t have time to think, or you haven’t had a chance to pay attention. Even so, it is your moral obligation to avoid getting caught up in details, as getting caught up in details does indeed prevent you from affecting change.”

Havelock pushed the notebook towards Sybil and finished: “Distractions and obsessions should not be negative. Getting caught up in details can be negative. The common man would consider this entire conversation a clear example of inability to see the forest for the trees. He would be wrong, as he is burdened with incorrect definitions of key terms.”

On his notebook, Havelock had drawn a broad sketch of a swamp dragon clearly suffering from spinus mizerablis.

“Oh,” said Sybil immediately. “Because spinus mizerablis is systemic and iatrogenic. Well, caused by human hair splinters after a scale fluff. Which is why reputable breeders don’t practice scale fluffing and haven’t since that Pancrea Lobulatto put out that paper in the Year of the Sprightly Oyster.”

“Precisely,” said Havelock. “It’s all very simple, really.”

“A weight off my mind, that is,” Sybil said. “Now then. Where’s that bin of coccygeal vertebrae got to?”

“Oh, sorry,” said Havelock, producing them out of his pocket. “I wanted to see if I could string them together into something that could reach around corners. Ought to have asked.”

“No worries,” said Sybil cheerfully. “Rodney, Lord Nardenwright keeled over yesterday of lump sprinkle and I’m about to go pull his bones out of the acid bath. Want the tail?”

Havelock’s eyes widened.

“Could I have the rest of the spine, too?”

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[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael and Vanny had wild teen years in FNAF

[1alchemistart]

i literally never do this but idk i was just drawing and they happened SDFKLSDKL

my girls do not yet have names bc i am cosmically bad at coming up with names and also inexplicably picky about it but def feel free to suggest some DSLKFSDKL

also for why damian is even involved,

[itscherryterry-again]

yea

[royalarchivist]

It's so wild seeing the official Tazercraft account posting old videos of the boys doing random stuff when they were all teenagers, but it's also sorta sweet seeing Pac, Mike, Cellbit, and Felps all hanging out and being friends, even way back then. :')

[little-pondhead]

Inspired by this post.

[barblaz-arts]

Girls' night out. For real, this time.

[cod-dump]

Allegedly ___

teen!Ghost: Okay, so, if I stole from my headmaster, allegedly, would you be mad? Price: ... why are you using that word? teen!Ghost: ... which one? Price: 'Allegedly', Simon. You never use that word unless you hear someone using it teen!Ghost: I- Price: What did Nik do? Was he on the phone speaking Russian? Was he using code? teen!Ghost: He- Why are you bringing Nik into this after what I said!? Price: If your school calls me then I'll deal with it. Until then, I'm more concerned about Nik. Where. Is. He? teen!Ghost: ... he's in the garage Price: Good boy *leaves* teen!Ghost: (later) *teen!Ghost and teen!Gaz are hanging out in teen!Farah's room* teen!Gaz: Your boyfriend needs to be put in a cage teen!Ghost: Oh, he's my boyfriend when he's annoying, but your best friend when he isn't?? teen!Gaz: Yep teen!Farah: Can you two not come in here just to fight- Nik: *suddenly opens the window and climbs in* Nik: SIMON- teen!Gaz & teen!Farah: *start screaming* teen!Ghost: Oh my god you're alive! Nik: YOU LITTLE SNITCH- teen!Ghost: ALLEGEDLY A SNITCH-

[jessmalia]

Mal's Teen Wolf rewatch: Omega (2x01)

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

The generational progression of team dynamics is truly so funny to me.

You have the Justice League and they're all coworkers. They're friendly and polite with each other but they don't really hang out together outside of work. Two of them might transcend the work friend dynamic and buddy up outside of work (i.e Barry and Hal or Ollie and Hal or Bruce and Clark) but you will never see all of them casually hanging out for fun.

Then there's the Titans. These guys are friends. They all have busy lives so they maybe don't see each other as much as they'd like to but they're all deeply bonded with each other. They make a point of planning big get togethers with each other unrelated to work. They know each other's deepest secrets. Their kids consider the other Titans aunts and uncles.

Last but not least there's Young Justice. Young Justice is the definition of unhealthy codependency. They're all best friends and they act like siblings but they might also all be in love with each other? Kon dated Cassie, hit on Cissie, flirted with Bart's clone and had a dream where Bart was in a cheerleading outfit and was with his other love interests and then just everything with Tim. Cassie dated both Tim and Kon, and then there's everything with Cissie. Bart admitted that Cassie made him 'like girls' (?), took Cissie to a dance, and is extremely close with Tim and Kon to the point where it could just be unhealthy codependency but it might be something more. Honestly this entire group is so intermixed and codependent it's insane. They go from 'i love you so much you are my best friend' to 'i wanna make out with you' so fast and with barely any breathing room. They are constantly with each other and hang out at least once a week. They cannot exist separately.

[valtsv]

so weird being an eldest sibling who can't relate to most of the "eldest sibling memes". not the being a surrogate parent against your will to your younger siblings and being expected to set the bar for success in everything you did, i did have to deal with that, but all the jokes about how you were the only one resembling an actual normal human being in your family and your younger siblings were like imps sent from hell to torment you. because out of me and my brother i was the devil sibling. he didn't like to bring his friends over to our house because they were scared of his creepy sister who would stare out at them from the windows with her horrible dead shark's eyes and read books and watch shows on tv with photos of real life decomposing corpses and diseased rotting flesh in them that would give them nightmares.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Feeling Fruity

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[crunchchute]

Sam and Max if they were cool /j

[moriaarts]

Trips over 1000 doodles of Boil fall on the floor

[andromeddog]

more misc gow stuff

[0vergrowngraveyard]

damn you stanford pines and giving me ideas about my teenager tails concept