#i was able to do it because i cared a lot about the project!!

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[echo-riot]

✞⛧ Sevika/Abby/Ellie: Love letters ✞⛧

Warnings: fluff

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕜𝕒

Hey Brat,

I don’t know what you want me to say in this. You should know by now that I’m not one for long speeches or anything sappy. But since you’re still here, I guess I’ll give you something to chew on.

You’re mine. That’s the only thing you need to remember. No one else matters. No one else will even get close to you while I’m around. I don’t care if you think it’s possessive or crazy, but you’re not going anywhere. And don’t even try to argue with me about it. You wouldn’t win.

It’s cute how you think you need to take care of me sometimes. You’re not the only one who knows how to survive, but I’ll admit—your little touches, your care, it’s not the worst thing in the world. But don’t go thinking I need you. You’re not my damn therapist, and I’m not your project. But I’ll let you fuss over me anyway, since you seem to enjoy it. I’d kill anyone who made you feel less than adored, so don’t get any bright ideas about being too independent.

You’ve got a good thing going, so don’t fuck it up. I might not say it outright, but I’d burn this whole damn city down before I let anything happen to you. So yeah, maybe I’m a little soft on you. But don’t get any funny ideas. You’re not gonna change me, and you’ll never hear me say anything cheesy, like those damn love words. That’s not me.

But in the quiet moments, when you’re all tangled up with me, I’m not thinking about anyone else. Just you. Keep that in mind next time you get all worried.

So, there. That’s your “love letter,” for whatever the hell that means to you. Take it or leave it.

-Sevika

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔸𝕓𝕓𝕪

Hey,

I’m not great with words. Never have been. So, you’ll have to bear with me.

I’m not some romantic, and I don’t do the whole love-letter thing. But I guess I owe you this, if only because you’re the one thing in this messed-up world that’s made sense. You’re the constant, the one person who’s been there even when I didn’t deserve it. I don’t know if you get that, or if you’ll ever really understand how much that means to me.

I’m not good at talking about feelings—hell, I’m not even sure what they are half the time. But I know this: I trust you. I trust you in a way I haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. And yeah, maybe that’s not saying much, but I’m not exactly the type to let people close. You’ve earned your place, and I’m not just letting anyone in. So, don’t take that lightly.

I won’t sugarcoat it—I’ve made my share of mistakes. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make things right, but I’m trying. I’m fighting for something, for us, and I don’t know where that’ll take me, but I know I’ll keep pushing forward as long as you’re by my side. You’re the reason I keep going when it’s easier to quit. You make it worth it.

I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect you to be either. We’re both broken in our own ways, and that’s okay. I just want you to know that, no matter what happens, I’ll fight for you. You mean more to me than I can say.

So, yeah. Maybe not the flowery words you expected. But that’s the truth, and it’s the best I can do.

<3 Abby

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖

Hey you,

I don’t even know where to start, but I guess that’s pretty typical for me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what to say, how to say it, and if I even have the guts to send something like this. But here it is, I guess.

I’m not great with words—never really was. I tend to get stuck in my head, and even when I have something I want to say, it comes out… wrong. But I hope you understand that I mean every word, even if it’s clumsy or awkward.

There’s something about you that makes everything feel… right. Even on the days when I’m a mess, when I forget to text back or I zone out for a bit because my head’s too loud—whenever I’m with you, I feel like I can breathe. And I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for you.

You make me want to be better, even if I don’t always show it in the best ways. I know I can be a little weird and I overthink things like a lot, but the truth is, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t mess things up with you. You mean more to me than I’m probably letting on, and sometimes that freaks me out.

I catch myself looking at you sometimes, like I can’t help it, and I know I probably look like an idiot when I get all flustered, but it’s because you’re… I don’t know. You’re just everything to me. It’s hard to explain, but I think you already know.

When I’m with you, I don’t feel like such a loser anymore. I don’t have to be perfect or say the right things or try to impress anyone. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anything other than just… me. And that’s probably the best gift anyone could give me.

So, yeah. I guess I just wanted to tell you that. You mean the world to me, more than you know. And I’m sorry for all the weirdness, the moments when I get quiet or lost in my thoughts. It’s just… I think about you a lot.

I’ll stop before I get all awkward and ruin this, but I hope you understand.

I love you. And I’m so damn lucky to have you.

Love,

Ellie

•|||——————————————————————|||•

[theambitiouswoman]

I am someone with a desire to socialize/build relationships/network who has always had to deal with unprovoked envy, hidden animosity, general unprovoked mistreatment which has therefore made me withdraw and suppress a lot of my skills. I’ve experienced these things in social interactions and even interpersonal and familial relationships. while I can be self-assured, assertive and confident, I have a history of people-pleasing and I notice that this makes me more susceptible to the things I mentioned above. I have reflected on this and determined that most people have been intimidated by me/my talents but that the manner in which I go out of my way to appease people or just be graceful, kind, and soft-hearted in general or makes them feel comfortable enough to project that intimidation by disrespecting and attempting to belittle me.

I have dealt with people’s responses to me by embodying my masculine energy in order to self-protect (lots of anger). Do you have any advice or ideas for a consistent routine to help me truly begin assert boundaries, prioritize myself and not allow others to take me out of my true element (powerful, creative, self-confident) while also still dealing with said people? I have tried in the past but particularly in interpersonal relationship I fail, due to the way I carry extreme guilt for prioritizing myself and due to fear of abandonment.

I love this question, i've been dying to talk about this so thank you!!!

In my humble opinion, it seems like you are at a point where you have done work on yourself, are trying to improve and have learned how to become more aware of your surroundings. This is actually really great! My take away when I read it is that you are stuck in somewhat of what I like to call a limbo position.

And this is something that I didn't understand myself when I went through a lot of the same pain points you brought up.

Some of the main reasons you may be in this cycle is because, for one, you may be continuing in the same environment or meeting the same people in new bodies. Or you are handling the situations with new people the same way you did before. I think thats the point you were trying to make.

I just want to first say that you are not an intimidating woman. Get that out of your head because it sets a negative thought pattern and will subconsciously keep you in a loop where you are repeating cycles. You are only intimidating to the wrong people. You may be settling for less or selling yourself short in regards to your expectations with yourself or your self worth. I say this with love, obviously. It's probably not even something that you realize cause you really do seem to have amazing attributes. If you didn't, you wouldn't feel the way you do now.

However, I really suggest you stop trying to water yourself down to make others feel comfortable. Because that is really what its coming down to. You cant make a shoe thats a size smaller than you fit. Time to change your shoes because its obvious you have outgrown these environments and have not realized that you are capable of so much more. You are letting the guilt from this make you limit yourself and thats totally not fair for you.

Which leads me to your next paragraph.

The issue here seems to be the lack of emotional control. It is not what you say, but how you say it. And that occurs because we are not fully healed from whatever wounds, or not confident in ourselves. Either or, or both. You should be able to and can get to a place with yourself where you can assert yourself with a calm, straight forward tone and get the message across.

If fear of abandonment is your thing, you may be tying yourself worth to others. Maybe as a child, you experienced neglect, inconsistent care, or emotional disconnection that planted the seeds of your fear of abandonment. So you should maybe start by challenging the negative beliefs that stem from these experiences, such as “I’m not enough” or “People always leave me,” and replace them with affirmations like “I am worthy of love and connection.” Focus on self validation by meeting your own emotional needs, learning to comfort yourself during moments of insecurity. Express your needs and trust that doing so strengthens relationships rather than pushes people away. Change your perspective in the same way i referenced about you being intimidating, to abandonment as a natural part of life’s flow, so you recognize that it doesn’t reflect your worth. Work on your emotional independence by pursuing personal goals, doing activities you love and self love habits. This will help you build more confidence and resilience with interpersonal relationships so that when someone tries you, hurts you etc, you feel confident enough to be like, "yeah, you don't need to be in my life." vs being overwhelmed by emotion out of the fear of losing someone who is not treating you how you should be treated.

Hope this helped.

<3

[hopeful-dawn]

I find very it interesting how incredibly sheltered Shadow is in the movie, not just compared to other versions of his character, but also to the other characters in the SCU. He doesn't talk a lot, so it's not overly obvious, but his flashback scenes were riddled with subtext. He's clearly an amnesiac when he first falls to earth, so he has literally no idea about... most things, and the military certainly wouldn't have seen fit to teach him about them.

Given the way they kept him locked up in a fluid-filled tube - despite him being awake, alert, seemingly uninjured, and still in his clothes -, and his own admission that they all seemed scared of him and thought he was dangerous, Shadow doesn't seem to have been treated like an actual person, much less a child. And given his reaction to Maria when she first interacted with him (i.e. confused and suspicious even after she was very playful and friendly towards him), she likely was the first person to show him actual kindness, too.

Which makes sense! In the games he was created for the express purpose of being able to cure Maria. She was there for him and cared for him from the start, and undoubtedly made sure he was being treated at least moderately well. And she would have had the leverage to do so, because they were on a civilian space colony where her grandfather, who loved her dearly, was the one spearheading the project. In the movies however, Shadow was an extremely powerful extraterrestrial of unspecified origin, with an unknown purpose for coming to Earth. During the Cold War. He was not a beloved creation; he was a potential threat who was being experimented on by the military.

There's no way that before Maria he'd have been given lessons in Earth cultural practices, or allowed to do things like watch movies or listen to music or even just roam freely throughout the base. They didn't trust him enough to. But without any memories of his own he'd have been easy enough to mold to their liking, so they did teach him how to fight, how to shoot a gun, how to ride a motorcycle, and how to harness his power, because they undoubtedly wanted to use him as a secret weapon against the Soviets and as a power source (why else would they keep him in a military base and store a bunch of containers filled with his highly explosive chaos energy? How else would he have learned how to ride a human motorcycle with such skill?). Weapons aren't people though, and potential threats don't get kindness, lest people get attached to them, and neither are taught anything they don't absolutely need to know to perform their functions.

So yeah. Poor kid was kept emotionally isolated and ignorant, until Maria came in and demanded better for him. Too bad that made her a liability to them, one they felt they had to get rid of after they decided that Shadow needed to be shelved until such a time that they could actually control him. Remember, they were aiming to shoot her, specifically. If they wanted to shoot Gerald or Shadow, they'd have done it at any point afterward. So even though it was an explosion that ultimately killed her, she was slated to die regardless. Gerald and Shadow were considered valuable; she was just a loose end who convinced Shadow he was a person and turned his loyalties from them to herself.

(Those kids never stood a chance. Even if they had escaped, they'd have been hunted down by the military, and she'd have been killed then instead while he was taken into custody. Their fates were sealed the second they stepped foot into that base. Shadow never would have been allowed to have a decent childhood, and Maria never could have treated Shadow as anything other than a fellow child and friend.)

And when he was brought out of stasis he had no time or inclination to fix any of that ignorance (because he was convinced he would die, along with the rest of the world). All of which puts him in a very disadvantageous spot by the end of the movie, because he's going to be so lost once he wakes back up on earth.

Does he know how to read in any language or how to do basic arithmetic? Does he know any geography or how to read a map? Does he know any first aid or wilderness survival skills? Since he wasn't created in a lab, does he need to eat and drink, and if so does he know what's safe for him to consume? These are all things he might need to know if he's going to try and survive on his own, and unfortunately he also almost certainly doesn't know how to use a computer or a telephone, which would be his main two ways of getting that kind of information if he can't outright ask anyone.

To take it even further, because of his amnesia, does Shadow even know that he's supposed to be a hedgehog?? Does he know what the chaos emeralds are, or that they're emeralds at all, or why he went god mode upon touching them? Does he know that Sonic survived after he passed out and fell to earth? And also, did literally anyone ever tell him Sonic's name??

[604to647]

(Late Night) WIP Wednesday Thursday

Thank you for the tags @milla-frenchy @galway-girlatwork @joelmillerisapunk @baronessvonglitter 🥰🥰 Had an odd week and didn't write a lot, but managed to write a little of a lot of different things 🤣 (Unfortunately, no progress on the Acacius Hockey AU except for this and this).

Thank you for the kind reception on my first Dear-uary submission (What's a TomDaya?), the second entry will be for our dear Timothy Rockford and his Shutterbug, and it will be HORNEE (the epistolary form is SEXTING 🫠🤭):

Everything about the photo exudes control, skill, competency.  Your mouth suddenly felt very dry even as your pussy gushed; before you could register its actions, your free hand skimmed up past the hem of Tim’s t-shirt, delicate fingers starting to rub soft circles over the front of your already drenched panties as you gawked at the very picture of dominance and prowess projecting from your phone.

I also started working on my first ever Dieter fic (eek!) for @happypedrohours' Bouquets of Pedro Creativity Challenge! The working title is "Crawling Back to You (Dieter's Version)", heavily influenced by Hozier's cover of "Do I Wanna Know"; two quick snippets:

Detox had been a fucking nightmare but Dieter likes the voices in his head now.  They’re gentler with him, more forgiving, thoughtful.  They sound like you.

He couldn’t even bring himself to do you the disservice of asking you to wait, or stay by his side but hidden.  It was beneath you.  And to ask was to break his promise.

Turns out he didn’t even need to ask for you to feel the full weight of his betrayal. 

Hmmm, what else, what else? More The Rockford Portfolio, perhaps? How about some hurt/comfort?

Still, the sting of seeing you with someone else stays with him as he stumbles out of the coffeeshop, vendor's stall, grocery store and Tim tries leaning against the wall, a tree, his car to steady himself.  It doesn’t help in the least.  Doubling over, the pain in his chest balloons and threatens to suffocate him; deep breaths deliver no air to his lungs, the excruciating mass of regret too much in the way.  He can’t breathe.  He can’t breathe.  He can’t.

And... some young!Frankie who's having a rough go of a friends-to-lovers fic:

As soon as he lands, Frankie turns off airplane mode and the sudden influx of cell service after six weeks has his phone practically vibrating out of his hand from all the messages and notifications he’s missed.  He only cares about whether or not there are any messages from you, and when he sees that there are, he reads them in quick succession. There are only seven:

How were the pups this morning? Thanks so much again for walking Mac for me.  I really needed that extra half hour of sleep 😉

How’s your day going so far?  Mine is stupid busy with work, but I should be able to leave on time today!

Frankie!!! Thank you so much for the croissant! I love that bakery.  And thank you for the sweet note, too

Goodnight!

Frankie?  Is everything okay?  I’m worried about you.

Are you going to McKibbon’s tomorrow?

You didn’t come tonight.  Is it because of me?

His chest constricts at the evident change in mood and tone over the span of these messages, and especially at the sadness that radiates from the last one.

Huh. Lots of angst, eh? Yeesh - told you it's been an odd week! Ha!

No tags because I'm so late but anyone who is late like me but wants to share please dooooo 🥰🥰

[honeyed-blossom]

hehe sooo!! @theherbologygreenhouse and I have been working on a fun little writing project of our MCs meeting had they started Hogwarts as 1st years and didn’t possess Ancient Magic. It’s set in the same universe as Hogwarts Legacy so you’ll see a lot of the canon characters, but is independent from the game’s events so some of the game’s canon timelines may not line up! This is during the girls’ second year! We had a lot of fun writing this together from our MCs’ perspectives so please check it out if you’d like!! the lovely banners belong to @cafekitsune ♡

disclaimer: I’m very much an amateur writer so my writing may not be perfect, but please send me any feedback you have! Always looking to improve hehe 🥺🫶

🍯🍯🍯🍯

Chapter 1: Herbology Mishaps

Summary: A Hufflepuff and a Slytherin crash into Herbology class late one day and are stuck taking care of venomous tentaculas after class. Does this foster an unlikely friendship or is this the origin story of mortal enemies?

word count: 1.4k

you are here 🍯 | Maven’s POV

Valeria’s Perspective:

“5 points from Hufflepuff and Slytherin for being late, ladies. And, you both will have to stay after class to tend to the plants.” Valeria groans as she pulls herself up from the floor, rubbing her arm slightly. Seems her day only keeps getting worse.

First, Grace and Anne had accidentally woken her up arguing with each other over something stupid - one had misplaced a hairbrush? Or was it over a boy? Either way, they had been too loud and it had been too early. Then, as luck would have it, Professor Sharp had asked her to stay behind after class to practice some potions with Garreth. Garreth Weasley. Her temper flares thinking about that red-headed imp. He better be counting the minutes he had left on this earth because when she sees him next, she’d strangle him to death.

Garreth was the whole reason she was late to Herbology - he had convinced her to goof off with him and try creating a new concoction. One that ended up bubbling over and scorching the table a bit, something it definitely was not supposed to do. Luckily, Sharp had been in his office at the time so the two were able to cover it up and avoid detention. By the time they finished cleaning, she only had 5 minutes to get to the greenhouse. There was no way she would get there on time.

She had accepted her tardiness but perhaps she could sneak in. Or if she played her cards right, would be forgiven. Professor Garlick has a big heart after all. But all her plans were dashed as she reached the metal doors to the herbology classroom, when some Hufflepuff brute crashed into her and sent her sprawling across the floor. In front of the entire class.

She refocuses to the class around her as the professor begins her lecture. A few students stifle their snickers while others look at them with a bit more compassion. Valeria shakes off the creeping embarrassment and dusts herself off. Rubbing her arm again, she begins heading over to her usual spot next to Sebastian. Except, someone is already there - Poppy Sweeting. She cocks her eyebrow, slightly confused at the smaller girl’s placement. Poppy usually sits with the other Hufflepuffs in the front so this is a bit odd. But then again, it does look like there aren’t any seats up front so maybe that’s it. Either way, this sours her mood ever more.

Valeria frowns and sends her friend a dirty look for not saving her a spot. Sebastian offers an apologetic smile, glancing over to Poppy and mouthing a quick “sorry.” I’ll remember this, Sallow. Valeria scoffs silently before heading further into the classroom, spotting an open seat by her housemate, Imelda.

“Have fun repotting those mandrakes after class,” Imelda snickers quietly as Valeria settles in beside her. “And try not to get tossed around by that Hufflepuff. It was sad to watch.” Valeria’s frown deepens and she crosses her arms. “Shut it,” she hisses before glaring at the girl who sent her flying just a moment ago.

Maven Godfreid. Tanned, bright eyed, and a bit taller than the other second years. She doesn’t know much about her, outside of the fact that she’s a Hufflepuff and she was probably the top herbology student from their year. They share some classes and have mutual friends but they seldom speak to one another. They didn’t really run in the same circles or share similar interests. But the rumor circulating around the mill was that Godfreid was strong and may have sent Leander Prewett running for the hospital wing earlier this week.

It hasn’t been a rumor after all. Valeria rubs her arm again irritatedly, displeased by how the pain hadn’t subsided. Imelda had been nasty with her earlier comment but she wasn’t wrong. It was embarrassing.

Valeria’s attention shifts back to Professor Garlick as she starts to pass out cotton balls in preparation for the plants. She grabs two from the basket and jams it in her ears, praying the mandrake she’s assigned isn’t too terrible. She can’t imagine how Garlick hasn’t lost her hearing after dealing with them for years. Just get through class and then you can extort Garreth. I’ll make him sneak out an entire apple crumble from the kitchen. Thinking about the sweet, warm crumble gives her a nudge of motivation.

- - -

Class wraps up just about how one would expect. Lenora Everleigh accidentally drops her mandrake, which sends Arthur Plummy into a panic and diving under the table. This throws Ominis, who sat across them, off balance, and he crashes to the floor with a screaming mandrake on top of him. Anne and Sebastian manage to get it off of him and into the pot just in time to stop his ears from bleeding out. Imelda and Valeria wrestle with their own mandrakes on the other side of the classroom as Professor Garlick cleans up Lenora’s mess. By the end of it, everyone’s covered in dirt from head to toe and mildly traumatized.

“Class is dismissed,” the professor finally announces. “Remember, mandrakes are nothing to be scared of. Today, we learned that staying calm is key to handling these fauna effectively. Keep that in mind for next week’s lesson!” A soft sea of groans fill the room before papers rustle, books slam shut, and the students begin to file out.

Imelda gives Valeria a solemn pat on the shoulder before gathering her things, knowing her friend still has a half hour more of this nightmare. Valeria returns a somber nod before watching her friend hurry out, probably for quidditch practice. She wipes off some dirt from her cheeks and mentally prepares herself for her punishment to begin.

Footsteps shuffle towards her, stopping right beside her. “Sorry for not saving you a seat.” Valeria looks up, meeting an apologetic Sebastian. She simply shrugs and begins unraveling some dirt from her hair. “It’s fine.”

Sebastian pouts, his freckled nose scrunching up in annoyance.“In my defense, Poppy asked first and her seat was already taken. I couldn’t just say no.”

“Why not? Because you like her?” Valeria frowns, turning her attention back on her friend. “What, no!” He gasps, flustered, his ears reddening.

“Sure, Sallow,” Valeria begins, a small smirk slowly playing on her lips. “Suddenly, ‘Sweetings’ is now ‘Poppy’. What’s next, you start calling her ‘My darling little princess’?” Her smirk widens and she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly. His ears flare a deep shade of crimson. “No, of course not!” he huffs, shoving her shoulder in irritation. “Forget it, I’m not sorry anymore! Have fun getting attacked by the plants, I’m leaving!”

Sebastian runs off, huffing and puffing. “Tell Garreth he owes me apple crumble, a whole pie!” Valeria calls out behind him. “I will not!” He calls back, sticking his tongue out before disappearing past the metal doors and leaving Valeria rubbing her arm once more. Of course he had to hit her injured arm, that freckled goblin. With a heavy sigh, she finally gets up and trots over to Professor Garlick.

“Ah, Miss Davenport. There you are. Once Miss Godfreid joins us, we shall head to the secondary greenhouse together. I’ll need your help with the venomous tentacula today,” Garlick chirps in her usual sing-songy way. “Yes Professor,” Valeria nods, pausing before she continues. “I apologize for being late today. It won’t happen again, ma’am.” She wrings her hands in front of her, looking up at her teacher with her big, hazel eyes. She hopes this doesn’t put her in Garlick’s bad books. One, because she hates disappointing her professors and two - she’s not good enough at Herbology to get away with things like this.

Garlick’s expression softens almost immediately and she gently pats the girl’s head, “it’s alright, Miss Davenport. Apology accepted. I know it wasn’t your intention. Everyone has a late entrance at least once.” Valeria smiles back, happy to be forgiven. “Thank you, Professor Garlick,” she chimes, following behind her.

“Good, now come. Let’s get your little task completed,” Garlick smiles and claps her hands together. “Miss Godfreid, shall we?” She calls out, beckoning over the navy haired Hufflepuff.

[kafus]

i really think the best way to learn to code as a hobbyist is to just… start projects you don’t know how to do. being careful not to be too overwhelmingly ambitious of course, starting small is good, but at least personally, it’s very engaging to sit down to code something, not know how to do it, and pick up new skills while doing the research necessary to make the thing. and then at the end you have the thing you wanted to make!

[busket]

I notice sometimes in queer and feminist spaces the idea of "this group is generally given more leniency and privileges in wider society; it's okay for us to be critical or even a little nasty to them because anywhere else they'd be praised". and that's understandable, i think. when you have real issues with men and how men act, it's ok to express that and to mock mens behavior. cis men who are generally praised and celebrated in society should be able to take some mean jokes or criticisms and accept they're not always going to be lauded.

but since queer and feminist spaces are generally more accepting of trans people and the wider society is not, this is also projected on to trans men. "trans men are men" was an affirming statement to our validity, but that was interpreted as "since trans men are men, and men are celebrated by society, I get to be a little nasty to them because the rest of society worships men. they can take it."

but the rest of society doesn't have that same level of trans acceptance. they don't see trans men as men, they see trans men as mentally ill, broken, mutilated women. so it's absolutely aggravating when we turn to queer and feminist spaces for solidarity, we face the same reactive nastiness cis men get and are told "come on, trans men are men. you are celebrated in society. you can take it." and when we look at the rest of society there's no celebration. there's only more nastiness and cruelty. so how can we "take it" when we have no community that accepts us and treats us without mockery? we don't have the shelter of acceptance that cis men have in the status quo, and sometimes we can't find a small umbrella of acceptance in queer communities either.

to be honest, I think a lot of people view trans men as a safe punching bag to vent their frustrations with men. you can mistreat a trans man and he's probably not going to fight you back since he's already so beat down. you can feel like you put a man in his place, you can feel like you're resisting the patriarchy. but all you did was act cruel to a marginalized person. and you know if you treated a cis man like that you might be putting yourself in danger, cos he might not take it lying down and he might not care as much about your wellbeing!

trans men are men, but trans men are not cis men. cis men are lauded and celebrated in society as long as they conform to the gender roles that were placed on them at birth. and this privilege is extremely conditional and not equally spread between men of different sexualities, races, ethnicities, ability, age, etc; trans men and intersex men are thrown to the side completely. I understand needing to vent about men. trans men do it too. but a persistent attitude of resentment and cruelty towards all men, including trans men, is not activism. all you do is push marginalized men out of the only communities they belong

[star-anise]

Warnings: Doomerism, climate grief, child death

The thing about having studied history and the psychology of trauma so much is that I can't pretend to myself that the world used to be better at sometime in the past.

Don't get me wrong; things are absolutely terrible right now and need to change, quickly.

But also, they're better than they've ever been for us as a species. It is literally mindblowing how much worse life was for us historically.

Have you seen one of those charts of the human population over time? Have you thought about what it actually means?

Because here's what I see: Humans have always loved things like living to old age, like having sex, like raising babies. Those are things we have always wanted to do. It's not like pre-industrial humans were giant pandas like, "Nah, rather not reproduce as a species. No thanks," and suddenly the Victorians discovered horniness.

Instead, for most of human history, we have died. At terrifically young ages. The few who made it to adulthood could make babies as much as they liked, and then overwhelmingly watched pregnancies miscarry, births end in tragedy, or babies die. Their own lives were constantly at the mercy of a world that could kill them without a second thought. To be human meant to live in a world full of a million little tragedies, all the goddamn time.

And then what happened was: The babies stopped dying. The effects of a lot of things from higher agricultural yields to public health efforts to mass communications made us the master over the diseases and maladies that once had us by the throat.

When we look ahead at catastrophe and terrors, yes, they're bad. But they'd have to be extremely bad indeed to measure up to the number of people who wouldn't even be alive in any other century.

And even the obvious bogeyman then, overpopulation—did you notice what's already happened? On that chart, there's the green measure of total population, but the thin purple line is the rate of population growth. Please notice that it peaked in 1968. It is, in fact, projected as entirely possible that within a century it could go lower than it was twelve thousand years ago, at the end of the last big ice age.

The moment babies started to live longer, people went, "That is too many babies. An absolutely unsustainable number of babies. People are crying out for help because taking care of that many children is completely overwhelming. We need to be able to fix this problem," and they invented birth control and fought to get it legalized. It hit the market in the late 1950s and in less than a decade, it had caught on like wildfire.

To me, this is the absolute opposite of an argument for passivity and political inaction. It's not that everything's going to be okay so why even try. It's that as it turns out, the human capacity to grow and thrive and make the world better is absolutely reality-defying. I don't have faith that all of our problems will be solved, but I do have faith that those problems are all the subject of passionate obsession of millions of people.

And apparently we have a really strong track record at that kind of thing already.

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 3, finale)

pt 1 / pt 2

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don't go as you imagine.

a/n: the final part!! this was meant to be a really short one shot to show my appreciation for jb and then it ended up becoming. 15000 words. so you know sometimes things happen. anyways i hope you enjoy lol i had a lot of fun writing these two

wc: 4.7k

warning(s): none really? i guess some minor angst w/ allusions to cheating but this is the resolution it's pretty much all fluff

You’d never been this nervous on your way to the library. 

Maybe it was because you were just on the edge of helping Fiyero cheat on his girlfriend, and said girlfriend showed up in the midst of said almost cheating. 

Yeah. It was probably that. 

You didn’t know what was wrong with you, honest. It was almost exactly two weeks ago that you were a perfectly sane individual, more interested in making sure Fiyero didn’t ruin your life, and more importantly your grades—and now you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

You exhaled slowly as you stopped outside the door. You were going to finish the project tonight, and then everything would be back to normal. You would be back to only caring about your grades, and Fiyero would go back to Galinda. 

You ran your hands down your uniform to straighten your top, as well as try to straighten out your thoughts. At least you were early—you’d have some time to try and be a normal person while you waited for Fiyero to show up. 

That is, until you walked into the library and immediately heard someone call your name. 

Your eyes snapped in the direction of the voice, and your breath hitched despite yourself when you saw it was Fiyero. You cringed against the dirty looks from various students as you hurried over to him, where he sat at your usual table. 

“Good of you to finally show up,” he said in mock disdain. “You know, we are partners, so it would be nice for you to put in the same amount of effort.” 

You huffed as he threw your words back at you. “Clever. You’re still not meant to be loud in a library.” 

Fiyero shrugged. “I’m sure they don’t mind.” 

“They very much do,” you said, taking your seat across from him. “And why are you so early?”

“I wanted to make sure we got our usual spot,” he said. “Very popular real estate, this table.” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Thank you, then.” 

“Of course.” Fiyero looked at the stack of books in your arms—you’d been carrying them around for the past two weeks. “I wasn’t sure if you would remember to get the books after.” 

“Didn’t I tell you?” you said wryly. “I remember everything.” 

“Of course,” he repeated, his lips twitching. “I went by the library after to get them, but sure enough, you already had.” 

“You went to get them?” 

“You were soaked to the bone. I figured you had more important things to do.” 

“If you’ve been listening at all lately, you would know that school is the most important thing to me.”

“Right.” Fiyero chuckled, but there was a different edge to it. “I trust you were able to get back safely?” 

“It’s just to my dorm. I was fine. Oh, and—” you opened your bag and pulled out Fiyero’s jacket, perfectly folded— “thank you for this. I washed and dried it, so you don’t have to worry about any of it.”

He smiled as he took it, choosing to set it down next to him rather than slip it back on. Honestly, you were thankful. You… really liked this stripped down look. “I’m glad it was useful.” 

“It was,” you nodded. “How was your talk with Galinda?” 

He sighed and shook his head. “It was nothing.” 

“Fiyero, it was very obviously something,” you said. “What did she say to you?” 

“I brought coffee like you asked,” he said instead. He pushed both cups over to you. 

“Fiyero—” 

“I got you two,” he continued. “Figured you would need them more than I do.” 

You held your tongue as you stared at him, and he stared right back. It was clear you weren’t going to get anything out of him about this—at least, not yet. 

So you nodded and took one of the cups. “Thank you. You’re probably right.” 

Fiyero smiled and nodded. Then his eyes lit up, and he pointed at you. “You said you knew why Dillamond paired us together.” 

“Oh, yeah.” You chuckled a bit and shrugged. “I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner. He was hoping we would both mellow each other out.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“All I really care about is school. I have big dreams and only one shot at them, so I refuse to slow down—I don’t know how to not stress about everything in my life, and it’s kinda killing me. You, on the other hand, don’t stress about anything. You dance through life without care—for your grades, what other people think about you, even the future, but because of it, people don’t ever see you for who you really are.” You tapped on the table between you. “We’re opposite ends of the spectrum. Doctor Dillamond wanted this project to help us meet in the middle—to influence each other for the better.”

“...Huh.” Fiyero leaned back and laughed. “So this was really just some kind of experiment?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you said wryly. “I think he just saw an opportunity and took it.” You gave him a look. “He was probably tired of you failing every test.” 

“And he was probably tired of you trying to take over his job,” Fiyero said in turn. 

“Oh, whatever,” you admonished with a smile. 

“Do you think it worked?”

“...I think so, yeah.” You gestured at him. “I couldn’t stand you at the beginning of all this. Now, I’d say we’re something close to friends.” 

“Something close to friends?” he asked in mock pain. “Not even the full thing?” 

“Give it another month.” 

“I don’t know,” Fiyero said offhandedly. “Wanting to hang out for another month sounds like something friends would do.” 

“Are you done?” you asked. 

“Never,” he said. “But I’ll put a temporary pause on it. Where are we at? How much work do we have left?” 

“We’ve got the whole paper written and I’ve proofread all of it—we just need to go through and rewrite some parts to make them stronger, and maybe add a little more substance in the middle. The sixth page is the weakest one.” 

“Makes sense,” he said. “It is the sixth page.” 

You huffed a laugh as you opened the folder you’d been keeping everything in and slid it over to the middle of the table. “Have you read the whole thing yet?” 

He shook his head, and your eyebrows rose. “Really? 

“Just the pages I wrote,” he said. “I’m sure yours are much better than mine.” 

“Then you read the whole essay while I go through my additions,” you said. “I could use some fresh eyes on it all—I’ve been staring at those words forever.” 

Fiyero nodded and took the stapled papers out of the folder. He met your eyes as he flipped the top page over. “Very nice title page.” 

“Thank you,” you said. “I took inspiration from the cover of a book Ilara wrote on Winkie languages, actually.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “Really?” 

You shrugged, biting back your smile as you turned back to your pages. “I thought it would be a nice touch.” 

You could see Fiyero’s smile out of your peripherals, and it almost made you forget about the questions gnawing at your skull. 

But now clearly wasn’t the time. So you pushed them away and did what you did best—ignored everything else in your life in favor of getting your schoolwork done. 

The time passed quickly enough that way. It took Fiyero a decent amount of time to read the entire paper—it didn’t help that he got distracted about twenty-five times and bothered you with questions each time, but his questions were at least related to the paper half the time, so you humored them. 

Two hours, both coffees, what felt like a thousand questions, and one exploded fountain pen later (thankfully not yours, though Fiyero somehow made the ink splatter on his undershirt look good)—

“I… think we’re actually done.” 

“Oz, I hope so,” Fiyero muttered. “This is the longest I’ve ever been in the library.” 

“These are rookie numbers,” you said wryly. “But yes, we’re done. We’ve got a really solid paper here, Fiyero.” You smiled. “And you helped with a good amount of it.” 

He puffed out his chest. “And you thought I would just ride your coattails the entire time.” 

“You thought that too,” you said. 

“I did,” he amended. “But it’s kind of impossible going against you.” 

You grinned. “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.” 

You stood up from the table and took some time to stretch. Your wrists and fingers hurt from writing, and your eyes were strained from reading so much of your own writing (and Fiyero’s) for so long, but none of it really bothered you. You finished your midterm the day before it was due, and you were immensely proud of it. Considering you were at odds—admittedly one-sided odds—with Fiyero at the beginning, it should have been branded a miracle. 

“I know I’ve said it a lot, but I truly don’t know how you do this,” Fiyero said. “This is the most I’ve used my brain in a long time, but this is how you live. Truly exhausting.” 

You smiled. “Maybe you can try and get better grades now.” 

“Oh, darling,” Fiyero chided, “who do you think I am?” 

You chuckled and shook your head. “It was worth a shot.” 

You began to gather all the books scattered about the table—you were usually organized when you did work, but you’d ended up making quite the mess—and Fiyero helped. The two of you dropped them in the returns and you cracked your knuckles. 

“I’m so glad I don’t have to keep carrying all those back and forth,” you said.

“I’m surprised you haven’t thrown out your back yet,” he remarked. “But now you’re done with books for a while, at least.” 

“Oh, hardly,” you remarked. “In fact, there’s a chemistry book I need to check out to help with my assignment coming up.” 

Fiyero frowned as he started following your quick pace back to the aisles. “Have you got another paper?” 

“Not yet,” you said, paying him no mind as you checked book bindings to keep yourself on the right track. He could hardly keep up with you. “I just want to study up on the method we’re going to be using so I know how to do it.” 

“Isn’t the point of class to learn how to do it?” he asked. 

“I’m just wasting time if I don’t already know what I’m doing,” you said. You made a triumphant noise as you realized you were in the right aisle, and you started moving down, eyes rapidly scanning last names on book spines. 

“You truly make no sense,” Fiyero murmured. 

“There it is!” you exclaimed. You took a particularly hefty book off the shelf and skimmed through the first couple of pages, nodding once you’d confirmed you had the right one. “Alright, now we can—”

“That’s one nasty bruise.” 

You looked up from the pages to see Fiyero much closer than before, his brows furrowed as he looked at your arm. 

Your attention fell to where he was focused on, and you shrugged. “I must’ve done it while I was getting out of the water. I’ve always bruised easily.” 

“Probably because you don’t take care of yourself,” he said wryly. He moved to take your arm, but he met your eyes first for permission. When you nodded, he placed one hand underneath to support it. “Does it hurt?” 

“Not anymore,” you said. “I told you, Fiyero—I’m fine.” 

“I know,” he sighed. “You always are; I’m beginning to realize that.” 

You shrugged, though you smiled inwardly. “It’s a virtue.” 

“I really am sorry that you fell into the water,” he said. “I feel like it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault at all,” you said. If anything, it was your fault for going into complete panic mode at the slightest glimpse of Galinda. 

“Still, though,” he said. “I’m surprised you weren’t angrier.” 

“Well… All this time I’ve spent with you has made me realize I don’t need to take everything so seriously.” You gave him a sideways smile, trying to imitate that easy smile he always seemed to have in his back pocket. “Especially when I’ve already got everything worked out.” 

“I’m glad I could teach you something,” Fiyero said softly. “In return for all you taught me.” 

“I taught you how to write an essay, you taught me how to not be miserable all the time,” you said wryly. “Certainly equals.” 

“You came along with it,” he murmured. “That’s more valuable than anything.” 

Something hard pressed against your back, and you realized you’d backed up against the bookcases, Fiyero angled in a way that caged you in. You met his eyes, surprised to see he was already looking at you. 

His gaze drifted to your lips. He started to lean in, you doing the same without fully realizing it, as if the two of you were pulled by some invisible string. 

His eyes had already fluttered shut. You were inches from his lips—he was letting you take the first step at your own pace. 

And then you stopped. 

“You’re with Galinda,” you whispered. You couldn’t help it. 

Fiyero stopped, and he sighed before he opened his eyes. “Hardly.”

“You’re arm in arm everywhere you go,” you said. “She’s head over heels for you and everyone knows, most of all you. You saw how she reacted to the two of us down by the water today!”

“She thinks there’s so much more than there is,” he said. “I’ve been pulling away. If she hasn’t noticed—”

“Does she know that?” you asked. 

He stayed silent. 

“Fiyero, does she know that you think this little of your relationship?” 

“...No,” he admitted. “She’s not the best at taking hints.” 

“Then don’t make her take them. Tell her.” You shook your head, letting out a shaky sigh as you took a step back. “If— if you actually want this—want me—then you have to tell her. You have to end things with her.”

Fiyero reached out a hand as he said your name, and you shook your head once more. 

“Galinda doesn’t deserve to be strung along while you try to figure out how you feel,” you said. “And neither do I.”

“That’s not what this is,” he said. “I promise.”

“Promises mean nothing if they’re just words,” you said. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to get rid of the chill running down your spine. “You know what I want, Fiyero. If it’s not what you want, then—”

“What do you want?” he interrupted. 

“I—” the word stuck in your throat. Fiyero was so close you could feel his warmth, smell his scent—it threatened to overwhelm you in the most intoxicating way. 

“What?” Fiyero’s gaze didn’t waver. Oz, he wanted to kill you. He wanted to hear you say it.

“I want you,” you finally managed to get out. Something changed in his eyes, and you saw his throat bob. “But I need to know this is real.” 

Fiyero took your hand. “It is.” 

He pulled you closer to him, and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to fall into him and let him give you what you’d been fighting against. But you weren’t going to kiss him and make a fool of yourself just for him to go back to Galinda. 

“Then prove it,” you said. You took your hand back, and you pushed past him. Fiyero put up no resistance, and you still felt his eyes on you. 

“And when I do?” he spoke up. 

That stopped you in your tracks. You turned to meet his eyes, softer than you’d ever seen them. You looked down at the book in your hand, and you held it out to him. 

“Then meet in the library tomorrow to help me with my chemistry assignment.” 

Fiyero took the book and nodded. “I guess I’ve got even more to learn.”

-

You had a very rude awakening to your alarm clock the next morning. 

You hadn’t been able to sleep the whole night, your stupid, stupid words replaying in your head over and over again. Usually, when you couldn’t sleep you just worked on homework. But all of your homework was done, and you’d just finished your essay, so you had nothing to do but stare up at the ceiling. And stare up at the ceiling you did — you counted all the flowers and leaves on it at least fifteen times. 

It didn’t really help that Fiyero appeared in your dreams once you finally did manage to get some sleep, doing all sorts of lovely things to you. 

Cora was right. Against your better judgment, you liked Fiyero—just like everyone else liked Fiyero. 

All you had to hope was that he liked you too. 

It wasn’t absurd to think he did, was it? The man tugged at your strings constantly, but he stayed by your side the entire project despite your insults. He barely even glanced at Galinda when she confronted the two of you, and he offered his jacket in spite of all of it. 

He practically told you he liked you last night—Great Oz, he tried to kiss you. 

You overthought everything in your life, but you couldn’t overthink this. 

Could you?

God, men turned you into a disaster. There was a reason you avoided silly dalliances. 

You tried to push Fiyero out of your mind as much as possible as you got ready, but it wasn’t easy. You could, in fact, overthink this—and you very much were. 

You opened your door to go to the restrooms, but your door hit something. You frowned and crouched down, and you realized it was a book. Your chemistry book.

Your heart pounded as you picked it up. A strip of paper had been wedged in the middle, and when you pulled it out and smoothed the slip, you nearly dropped the book. 

You’re what I want. I just have to clear some things up. 

Meet me at Ozdust after dark. Wear your best. 

FT

Your heart fluttered despite yourself. 

Fiyero didn’t forget. You hadn’t scared him off with your declarations, with— with all your you. 

He didn’t forget. He chose you. 

He chose you. 

(You couldn’t overthink this.) 

((You were going to.))

Oh, Oz. 

How were you meant to go to your classes today?

-

You could have sworn you were shaking the entire way to Ozdust. 

This was just… not you. Sneaking off campus in the middle of the night, getting glitzed up to go dance, being with someone like Fiyero—it was so unfamiliar. You had to get Coralie to do your makeup and hair, and she squealed practically the entire time. For someone so smart, she really lost it when she was right. 

But you owed it to him to go through with it. After all, he wrote a ten page paper with you. You could do a little bit of dancing. 

You’d already started looking for him the moment you walked through the doors. You needed one thing to keep you afloat here. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take very long. You found Fiyero leaning up against a pillar, his arms crossed and gaze unfocused as his foot bounced up and down repeatedly. Warmth blossomed within your body just at the sight of him, which you were partly thankful for—your dress had you shivering. 

His head perked up as if he could sense your arrival, and it only took a few moments for him to find you in the crowd. The weight on his shoulders dissolved as he grinned and started to weave his way through the throngs of bodies to get to you. 

You couldn’t help but smile too when he reached you, something you’d never really seen before in his eyes as he met yours.

“You came,” Fiyero said.

“How could I not?”

He let out a nervous laugh. “Very easily, I think. I saw about a hundred different scenarios where you didn’t show.” 

“Overthinking,” you said. “It looks like I’ve taught you a little too much.” 

Fiyero grinned and shook his head. “Never.” 

You lifted up the skirt of your dress, feeling your skin heat beneath his gaze. “What do you think?”

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “You always are— always have been. This just accentuates it.”

“You’re too kind.” You wrapped your arms around yourself on instinct, feeling awfully bare and insecure now that everything had settled a bit. “This… isn’t exactly my scene.” 

“That project wasn’t my scene and you got me through it well enough,” he responded. “This is my scene—so just trust me and let me take the lead.”

“Trust you?” you said with a sideways smile. “I’m not sure there are worse things.”

“Oh, believe me.” Fiyero held out his hand. “There are indeed.” 

Before you could doubt yourself, you took it. He walked you to the dance floor, and you cleared your throat. 

“Is this a bad time to say I don’t really dance?” 

“You’ll be fine,” Fiyero assured. “I’m an excellent lead.” 

He was indeed. You always thought that you had two left feet, but Fiyero made you feel like you actually knew what you were doing. Every time you thought you might step on his foot, he would take you into the next few steps and it would all be fine. Of course, his touch lit flames everywhere it went, but that was of no matter. He only made you weak in the knees. 

As you looked at Fiyero, your arms draped around his neck and his hands resting on your waist while you swayed together to a slower part of the song, you couldn’t help but ask. 

“How did you break it to her?” 

Fiyero sighed. “I was wondering when you were going to ask that.” 

“You can’t blame me,” you said. 

“No,” he agreed. He sighed again. “Very carefully. And I had to do it about three times, because she didn’t fully believe me the first two times.” 

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, don’t be. It was a long time coming. I care about her, but not in the way she does for me.” He gave you a wry smile. “That’s why I left the book at your door. I didn’t know how long it would take.” 

“And how long did it take?

“The better half of the day.”

You winced. “I hope she’s alright.”

“She will be,” he said. “Especially with someone like Elphaba by her side.”

“Good,” you said. “I… I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“You didn’t,” Fiyero assured. “If anything, you kept her from further harm by bringing me to my senses.”

“I wasn’t sure if you had.” You let out a nervous laugh—all of this was such new territory that you felt like you were stumbling over every step. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to show,” Fiyero said in turn. “It’s the first time I’ve been nervous about a girl in a while.”

His smile was so genuine, with a touch of the anxiousness you felt over every little part of your life. It had to feel absurd for someone who never worried a day in their life. 

“Really?” you asked. “I make you nervous?”

Fiyero shrugged—he actually looked bashful, and it was the cutest thing in the world. “You’ve got that effect on me. Effortlessly, I might add.” 

“Flatterer,” you remarked, but you were grinning all the while. “You know, you have the same effect on me. I stressed out even more trying to figure out if you liked me or not. Or if I liked you.”

“You know how much I adore that beautiful brain of yours,” Fiyero said, “but we made it. There’s nothing for you to overthink here.” 

“Oh, I think you underestimate me,” you said wryly. “Right now, I’m mainly stressing out about my dress and my makeup and accidentally stepping on your foot. I’m also a little stressed about the strength of these pillars, and I’m already thinking about my next assignment in chemistry now that I’ve got my book back.” 

Fiyero laughed as he spun you around. “Let me try to lay some of those to rest then,” he said when he had you back in his arms. “You look absolutely stunning in your dress, and your makeup is  perfect. You’re not going to step on my foot, and if you do, you can blame it on me because I’m leading you. If any of these pillars collapse, I’ll save you as any prince worth his salt would. As for your chemistry assignment, we’ll just work together on it.” 

You leaned your head against his chest as you swayed together. “And just how much do you know about chemistry?” 

“If you’re talking about whatever it is going on between the two of us, then I consider myself an expert.” 

“Fiyero.” You tried to be stern, but you couldn’t help your smile. He just brought out a different side in you. 

“Oh, you’ll be fine. I know you will.” When he twirled you back around, he wore the same easy smile from when the two of you got paired together. Funny how you wanted to punch it off him then, and you want to kiss it off him now. “You got me to write an essay without me complaining the entire time. You can do anything.” 

“Oh, I know I can,” you said with a smile. “I don’t do all this because I doubt that I’ll succeed.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he mused. 

“Really?”

“I just want you to know how amazing you are,” Fiyero said. “I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” you murmured.

A new song started up and Fiyero guided you into a new dance. He was so sure of every step that it almost made you feel like you knew what you were doing as well. 

“You say you’re prepared for anything.” Fiyero’s voice was a sultry whisper as he led you around the floor, and your entire body ignited with his every word and touch. “What would you do if I kissed you?”

For a moment, all you could do was meet his lidded gaze. It dropped to your lips, and suddenly it was all you could imagine.

“I—” your throat bobbed as you swallowed, your mouth dry beyond belief, “—I would kiss you back.”

“Oh, darling,” he breathed, the hand he had on your waist drawing you closer, “that was all you needed to say.”

Fiyero dipped you, strong arms supporting you all the while as he leaned down to meet your lips. It was everything that you’d imagined and more, his plush lips enveloping yours as his scent filled your nose.

He took over all your senses. His scent, his lips on yours, his strong arms supporting you with ease, your fingers tangling in his hair. Were his arms not around you, you would have surely collapsed. You always thought people were exaggerating when they said they got weak in the knees—you didn’t think that anymore. 

Fiyero only let up an inch when he pulled away, still close enough for your noses to brush even as he brought you back up out of the dip. You closed your eyes and touched your forehead to his, and you heard his breath hitch the slightest bit. The ballroom was full of people, and yet he made you feel as if you were the only two in all of Oz. 

“You’re incredible,” you murmured. You felt like you could melt. 

“As are you.” Fiyero let out a breathy sigh. “I can’t believe I waited so long.” 

“I hope it was worth the wait.” 

“You’re worth everything and more,” he said softly. 

He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours again; once, twice, three times before he pulled back. He was nothing less than intoxicating. 

“We make a pretty good team,” he said with a sideways smile. “Don’t you agree?”

This time, spurred on by his encouragement, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. Fiyero kept you close with his hands on your waist, and you only pulled away when air became a necessity. You couldn’t help your stupid smile—it had been a long time since you’d felt this happy, and it was all because of the man in front of you. 

You couldn’t believe you ever thought you loathed him. 

“I do,” you murmured. “I really, really do.”

[imsobadatnicknames2]

ok but i need the evrart claire essay

Okay just be warned that this is gonna be less of an "essay" and more of a loose collection of thoughts, and I don't know how fresh or novel any of these ideas are going to be when it pertains to popular Disco Elysium fan discourse because I don't really do fandom, you know?

Anyway, I think the most obvious factet of Evrart's character is how he very intentionally calls to mind a caricature of corrupt union leaders, the image of a sleazy mobster who only cares about his own personal gain but pays lip service to leftist politics and pretends to care about the interests of workers as a way to obtain and maintain his power. And I think a lot of people straightforwardly read him as such, because that's the way he carries himself and the type of character the game is riffing on. There's also the question of how much of Evrart's manipulative, duplicitous attitude is just how he normally acts and how much of it is him specifically acting that way towards Harry and Kim specifically, it's important to have in mind that your main character is a cop and that would definitely play a role in making Evrart go out of his way to be a bit more of a bastard and toy with you a bit before he decides to actually do anything helpful.

However, once you dig a little deeper into his characterization, it becomes clear that he's pulling a very interesting double bluff, because it becomes apparent that the shady mobster who only cares about his personal gain is an act he's putting on. He's very self-aware about the fact that he's playing the villain, he seems to actively revel in it, but ultimately, it seems like he does it because playing the villain is the way he gets shit done.

This is not to say he's not actually corrupt, or that he's not ALSO involved in all sorts of shady stuff and taking advantage of his position of power, but the game does make it apparent that on some level he DOES have the interests of the people of Martinaise at heart.

For example, it is textually stated that the harbor doesn't need a night watchman, and Evrart created the position specifically to provide a source of income for René. He knows the pension Rene gets is not enough for him to live on, but he's also aware that René is the sort of right-wing guy who would rather starve to death than take a handout (especially from those dirty union commies), so Evrart created a job position which pretty much involves doing nothing for a few hours every night so he could help him with his economic troubles in a way he wouldn't refuse out of principle. René hates his guts, ideologically stands against everything his organization represents, and is generally an unlikeable asshole and a fascist prick, but he's also a disadvantaged member of the community and that seems to matter more.

Even when he asks you to get the signatures to build the community center, which is definitely one of the most morally questionable things he does during the events of the game (as it will improve the community, but at the same time displace the people from the fishing village), his intentions seem to be ultimately good. Due to the very nature of his character and the act he puts on, it's purposefully hard to tell when he's being sincere and when he's being manipulative. However, if Harry's drama and empathy skills are high enough when he's confronted about it, you'll be able to tell that he's not lying about his motives for wanting to build a community center or about the fact that he intends to provide better housing for the people displaced by the project, and that he feels genuine rage about their current living conditions. It can still be said that he's ignoring their self-determination and essentially forcing these people out of their current homes, but he does seem to have good intentions and think he's doing a good thing for them in the long run, even if his methods are morally questionable at best.

In that way, the Union is an extension of him in this regard too. They're pretty unapologetic about the fact that they're openly operating as a crime syndicate, but the game doesn't give you any reasons to believe they're lying when they say they're doing it as a way to muslce out all the more dangerous gangs and crime organizations out of Martinaise, or that their involvement in the drug trade is at least partially motivated by a desire to make sure it's not controlled by more dangerous and violent crime organizations. Again, they're playing the villain as a way to fill that power vacuum and make sure more dangerous people don't fill that role (but of course, that doesn't erase the fact that, noble as their intentions may be, they're still involved in all these shady activities and turning a pretty substantial profit from them too)

Of course, on the other hand, just because the game seems to hint at the fact that Evrart and the Union are, deep down, a force for good, doesn't erase the fact that he's done plenty of bad shit to further his interests, and the game doesn't shy away from this. He's still extremely corrupt, his long-term plan to wrestle control of the harbor away from the company and turn it into a worker-owned operation (which *would* massively improve the material conditions of the dockworkers if succesful) involves endangering the lives of a lot of his own workers, he and his brother Edgar pass the position of union foreman back and forth between each other to circumvent the term limit and keep themselves in power indefinitely, and if you explore all dialogue options with the Deserter it's all but explicitly stated that they rose to power by getting him to assassinate the previous Union forewoman.

These are things that Evrart himself would probably rationalize as sacrifices that need to be made for the greater good. After all, it is implied that the previous union forewoman was also corrupt, except in favor of the company's interests, and might have even been a company plant. However, this doesn't make those things morally right. Good intentions nonwithstanding, it's clear that the Claire brothers are very "the ends justify the means" kind of people, they probably see getting the previous Union leader killed or endangering the lives of the dockworkers to overthrow the company that exploits them as "pulling the lever" in the trolley problem, which is extremely callous at best.

Here's where we get a little more into "disjointed thoughts" territory, but Evrart can also be seen as a critique of the limits of trade unionism and social democrat politics. Something that I completely missed in my first playthrough but was able to catch on during my second is that the people of the fishing village refuse to unionize, and as a result they don't get the same level of support and protection that the union provides to the people of the more urban section of Martinaise. This is apparently widely known enough for characters other than Evrart to comment on (I forget what character I learned this from, but it was definitely not Evrart). So it's clear that Evrart and the Union put their interests of the members of their own organization over those of other working class people, which is one criticism that can be leveraged against the way a lot of leftists seem to treat unions as the ultimate tool for worker class liberation.

Similarly, when Evrart tells you his long-term plans, it's clear that his ultimate goals don't involve complete worker liberation. As far as the game shows, he's a socdem who's still looking to work within the confines of capitalism. There are more radically left wing characters in Disco Elysium, but Evrart is the only one with any actual power to affect change, which kinda speaks to the lack of presence of more hardline leftist positions in mainstream politics. As someone living in Latin America, I kinda ended up seeing a bit of a lot of our currrent socdem politicians in him in that respect, I guess, but i'd need more time to articulate this thought properly, I guess.

Ultimately, I think Evrart is an amazingly crafted character. He evokes a well-known archetype of a shady, corrupt, power-hungry union leader, but he adds a lot of depth, self-awareness, and nuance to it and subverts that characterization in several ways. I think he atually serves an important role of ideologically challenging players who share the developers' and writers' political leanings. I think it would have been very self-congratulatory and autocomplacent to make the most influential leftist character in the game an unambiguously good paragon of workers' rights and working class liberation. By instead giving us someone who's an absolute callous bastard who definitely has a bit of blood on his hands, who's a socdem at best and a self-serving mob boss at worst, but can ultimately be interpreted as a force for good, and asking the players to decide what they think of him I think it brings interesting questions to the table of our commitment to material gains, what sorts of people we're willing to work with, and the sort of acts we're willing to tolerate, and makes the game a lot more thematically rich.

I also think a good analysis of Evrart is incomplete without an analysis of the ways in which he serves a a charater foil for Joyce, but I don't feel like getting into that rn.

[raintemper]

Moon and Pebbles!! Yippee

oh the woes of being a flesh creature surrounded by supercomputer gods,, I got sad drawing him hhh

more about them under the line :>

Moon! She, like Suns, was one of the first successful projects and were both more of test models/therapeutic companions than anything else. They were both restructured to fit their new functions but Suns has obviously undergone more significant changes... Moon is kept inside to assist with research and computational stuff. She's a lab cat. She's generally looks more like a normal creature, and has a friendly appearance because her creators (i guess it would be the ancients) would be seeing her frequently and would rather a friendly face, something that is easily perceived as nonthreatening, as opposed to Suns weaponry and NSH's extra limbs and spikes. She doesn't have the screen face like NSH, so expressing emotions comes mostly from body language. Moon is not outside at all so there is no need for solar panel components like Suns or NSH. She has internal stored power that can last for quite a while but still needs to be recharged? I imagine the neuron fly drones would also assist in that department. The drones still function somewhat like her portable processing servers/braincells. She has also programed a defensive protocol into them, they can create small bits of electricity to use in dire moments. Initially programmed to keep track of NSH's samples that sometimes escapes him.

Pebbles is a purposed organism. He is a whole entire organic cat. He was born in the lab, in a chaotic time when resources were low. He has a mark of communication. He also has a brain chip where he can access (basically) the cloud where the others upload information. He is also a lab cat so this is crucial to his role. He did try and remove it once when he was younger and it backfired horribly and now he has a mechanical ear and eye. He still feels out of place for obvious reasons, being the only creature of organic origin amongst his peers.

He is closest to Moon who had a role in caring for and raising him. She did not know a thing about caring for a living being but did her best. Pebbles does not like being confined to the facility. The suggestion and influence the brain chip has on him sometimes clashes with his thoughts. He is very aware of the limitations it puts on him to not leave. He envies NSH and Suns a lot for being able to do what he can't. He often downloads the maps they create and read NSH's sample studies in his spare time. He also likes seeing the lizards NSH brings back, from a distance.

I think in the time that Pebbles exists, NSH is not very active. Due to the low resources and chaotic season, NSH is often in low power mode. Which means less expeditions outside and more time just, half asleep. And when the weather becomes more sustainable, NSH would be sent on long outings to gather as much as possible before being powered down again. So instead of hearing stories from NSH, he sought out Suns and UI instead. (Actually I think everyone is kind of low power mode here, Suns does not wander as far).

erhm i think he tries to leave the place and then gets sick or something,,,im still thinking..

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

you wonder how todoroki shoto is doing.

you remember him being the boy that sat a row away from you in class. he always kept to himself, never raising his hand to answer questions but always able to answer when he was called on. also, he was endeavor's son.

even if most of the parents at your private school where big shot's, apparently endeavor was in a league of his own. and so was his son, apparently.

nobody even dared talking to the todoroki son, and neither did you, but you liked looking at him. he's always so meticulous and calm as opposed to your rowdier louder classmate's. despite his quieter presence he always seemed to stand out to you. his bag is big enough to carry everything he needs without having to shove anything inside or leaving it half opened. he wipes his mouth with a tissue after he's done eating his lunch alone and his handwriting is pretty. his lashes are long and he's pretty.

you remember being partnered up with him for a class project once. he'd immediately cut to the chase and split the work for the both of you, clearly not humoring your attempts of starting conversation.

slowly though, you start getting him to stay behind to talk to you a little longer after the bell rings until he invites you to get your work done in the library, just to get your work done. until you ask him about his favorite colour and he doesn't know, so he asks you yours. and then you ask him about his favorite ice cream flavour, he says he doesn't have sweets a lot and he asks you yours. and you keep talking and he keeps listening and asking. you ask him if it doesn't bother him that you're talking so much but he says he doesn't mind.

you liked spending time at the library talking with shoto and you think he enjoyed listening to you. you liked riding your bike home with him while he walked next you, before he agreed to ride on it with you sometimes, but one time you both fell off and you hurt your knee, and he promised to never get on again if it meant you getting hurt while carrying you on his back. you remember him smelling really nice and you tightening your arms around his neck and nuzzling into him, and his grip on you tightening as well.

you liked holding his left hand when it got cold out even though he didn't like it much, but he'd do it for you. you liked it when you got to switch seats and sit next to him and you think he liked sitting next to you. you didn't see shouto smile often, but he did when he was with you and you liked that. and you think he liked that too.

you think so at least. you hope so, because when break was over he was gone.

you'd heard he got pulled out of school, some other people just said he'd switched, to go to a better cooler private school. you hated it when people said that because the shoto you knew wasn't like that. he knew people talked about him and he hated being associated with his father. he likes the caramel you sneak in for him at school and you like the way his eyes light up when he guesses the flavour of fruit candies you make him taste. the shoto you know that ties your shoes for you and shares his umbrella with you, the one who half heartedly stomps into wet puddles with you, the one with the pretty lashes and pretty smile and pretty handwriting isn't like that.

and you wished you could've asked him where he went, and why he went and took his warmth for snowy winter days with him, but you couldn't because he didn't have a phone and neither did you. you weren't old enough for one yet and you'd told him that as soon as you'd turn thirteen he'd be the first contact in your phone and he'd smiled.

you couldn't do that anymore. and you wonder how he's doing four years later.

you don't very much, but you think about him sometimes when his soft hair and pretty eyes cross your mind. he never cared for his looks much even after being voted the most handsome boy by the girls in class.

"i didn't know people thought i was..handsome." he ponders, scratching at the corner of his paper with his pencil. you kick your legs in the air where you're sitting next to him, you pout.

"why not ?"

"because..my scar.." he trails off, he keeps erasing at a spot he'd already wiped the pencil lead off of. you lean in so you get into his field of vision and he leans back a bit with widened eyes before leaning in towards you again, you're forwardness always took him by surprise.

"nuh-uhn, the others say it makes you look even more handsome !" you reassure and he blinks.

"do you think i'm handsome ?" he asks, tilting his head cutely. you splutter and feel your face heat up.

"e-everyone does.."

"do you ?" he leans closer.

you gulp, gripping your chair you turn your head away from his to the side and nod. you get the courage to peek up at him and you're surprised to see a smile pulling at his lips and a light tint of pink on his face.

"that's good." is all he says, but you feel so much warmth swarming through you, and you think he does, too.

so you wonder where he is and you wonder how he's doing. you wonder if he has any new friends or if his most handsome boy award got him a girlfriend. you wonder if he truly felt the same way you did way back then and if he liked holding your hand just as much is you did his because it was warm but also because it was his. and you wonder if he thinks about you.

except you don't have to wonder anymore. because on your first day at your new school, he walks into class. his eyes widen when he locks eyes with you and you recognize him, and you think he does too.

[mysumeow]

ᯓ★ KINKTOBER DAY 5: SCENT KINK

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body, mentioned to wear a skirt. Public sex (no one gets caught though wink wink), fingering, cunnilingus, scent kink.

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: You agreed to meet with Ace at the library to work on a project. However, who shows up is not him, but Leona...

ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: I know october is over but this was supposed to be posted like two weeks ago ;7; I had a lot going on the past week but i finally got some time to share this filth >:DDDDDDDD

🎃 . . . KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | TWST MASTERLIST

You groggily open your eyes, the bright lights glaring at your pupils as you woke up. The annoying burn became a secondary thought—memories from what led you to be in the college’s library this late.

“And people complain about me napping anywhere.”

At the sound of Leona’s unexpected voice, your drowsiness left your body.

“Leona?” you jolted. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be the one asking you that. This is not a place to nap. And this late? Even less.”

You were about to retort back with a snarky comment of your own, but the memories of why you were here in the first place stopped you.

"Ace, that jerk, did he stand me up?” you fished your cellphone out of your pocket. Ace could be a jerk sometimes, but would he dare to abandon you when you were supposed to work on the upcoming project? 

You sighed, relieved when you found his messages, explaining that he wouldn’t make it to the library this time because Riddle assigned him some tasks in their dorm.

The day had been arduous, and the moment you sat on this couch, in the silent place that is a library, you couldn’t help but nod off...

Leona sat next to you on the couch and leaned closer to peek at your messages. In the middle of you typing your response back to Ace, Leona couldn’t help but notice the obvious scent of that other guy on you.

“You hang out around that herbivore too much. His pesky scent is all over you.” Leona complained.

“Well, he’s a friend. Of course I’ll hang out with him.”

Without exchanging any other words, Leona snatched your cellphone away from your hand and placed it on the table.

“Hey—What’s the big deal?”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him, until your chests pressed together. The abrupt movement made your knees bump into each other; however, the second his mouth made contact with your neck, you couldn’t bother paying it mind anymore. His fangs grazed on your skin, teasing about a possible mark he could leave there with ease. The way he inhaled your neck made goosebumps rise. It both tickled you and made arousal pool between your legs.

He even tugged at your shirt to reveal more skin for him to lave with his tongue. In the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t the place to do this, and yet, the thrill of the situation wouldn’t allow you to care about it enough.

Leona slid a hand under your skirt; his fingers sought the growing wetness concealed by your underwear without hesitation.

“I was about to tell you to move this to my room, but it looks like the place isn’t an issue…” he kissed the tip of your ear after he whispered, meanwhile two fingers eased inside. Leona groaned at your warmth and tightness, fingering at a languid rythm.

The heel of his hand rubbed against your clit while he thrust his fingers. The pleasure was overriding your thoughts, and you lost yourself in it.

Leona chuckled when he noticed you were relaxing into his touch, your position becoming slack.

You discerned him pulling away, his mouth opened to welcome his drenched fingers into his mouth. A look of pure carnal desire glazed his eyes as he lapped his fingers, swallowing the remnants of your pleasure. His attention shifted back to the source of said arousal under your skirt and crouched in front of your parted legs.

“Wait,” you panicked a little.

“Relax, no one’s around. No one comes here a Friday after classes.”

“What if someone comes?”

“I’ll be able to pick up footsteps before they even put a foot inside. Trust me, I’ll notice someone’s around before you do.” His lion ears flicked while he said that, a hand on your thigh as he waited for your response.

You gazed at Leona, his piercing green eyes giving away his eagerness despite his laidback demeanor. Well, beastkin had way better hearing than humans. And, as he said, no one wanted to spend their free time in the college’s library at this hour on a Friday.

At last, you opened your legs again for him. You were sitting at the furthest point away from the entrance. You would have plenty of time to fix your clothes before someone saw you.

Leona had similar thoughts, preferring to push your underwear to the side instead of pulling them off.

Before he feasted upon your dripping pussy, he grabbed you by the hips to pull you closer, positioning them in an angle that would make things easier. With this new position, he spread you open and slid his tongue against your needy clit. A gasp escaped you from the sensation; you reminded yourself to cover your mouth for extra precaution. The more his hot mouth sucked your clit, the closer to your orgasm you were.

The scent of you was driving him crazy. He could smell your slick dripping the moment he kissed and bit your neck. It wasn’t enough to erase Ace’s scent from you, but it was a start.

He would have you in his room soon enough, and he would make sure to get rid of it.

The more of your fluids coated his fingers, the more he was pleased. His mouth occupied with your nub, and his fingers worked your cunt with purpose. He didn’t even care about the fact that you were tugging at his hair, your hands dangerously close to his ears. Whatever, if you tugged on those too, he would make you pay back for it…

Leona hummed pleased once he felt you become undone under his touches, your walls clenching around his fingers. How antsy he was about feeling that around his cock—

“Careful there. Don’t forget whose hair you’re tugging here,” he pulled away to speak; his fingers didn’t abandon your tightness, however.

“Ah! I’m sorry.”

Once you tidied your appearance to the best of your ability and Leona led you to his room, you wondered why you bothered to tug your shirt into your skirt in the first place…

After that night, you noticed beastfolk would glance at you with a certain... knowing look you quite didn’t like. You didn’t like it because you didn’t know what the reason was. Even Jack would seem flustered whenever his eyes landed on you, quick to excuse himself. 

[ciderjacks]

Also ok. Not a diss on anyone I promise. But just like as a woman I sort of resent how often she’s characterized as being this completely one note and “in the right” wife figure, I mean if ur gonna elaborate on her please do but I wish there was more people who characterized her as being more than Chilchuck’s disgruntled wife who was always the one being wronged by a man. What we do know about her honestly makes her sound like a really interesting character. Like. They were canonically childhood friends, and started their lives together very young. He was also Canonically (approved by The Monster That Eats Good Husbands), a good husband. I think her decision to leave while he was at work without a word was something that honestly had just as much, if not more, to do with her than him.

giving Bea some Real Flaws. Need more women who are genuinely in the wrong. But also I’m worried when I eventually post what I’m talking about, misogyny will take over the public’s minds and they will be very mean to her.