#if they had to rearrange them like it's 20-fucking-13

[lurkingteapot]

It's here! I'm enjoying myself a lot and thought I'd share some bits and pieces, again, starting with the introduction.

Introduction: Boys Love (BL) Media and Its Asian Transfigurations by James Welker, in: Welker (editor), Queer Transfigurations. Boys Love Media in Asia. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 2022. p. 1–16. [Jstor]

I took notes by hand while reading, tried to type them up as coherently as possible here.

BL is an umbrella term for all sorts of media (going by volume, the primary mode is still written – prose or manga) that depict male-male romantic and sexual relationships and are primarily marketed to young women. BL has had fans 'around the globe' since the 1980s, especially in East and Southeast Asia, though it really 'dramatically expanded in popularity in the current century'. (p. 1)

Asian BL fandoms do not exist in isolation from the rest of the world (p. 2)

queer as in a) gender/sexuality-related expressions that flout social norms, b) queering norms of (female) sexuality and c) creating breathing room for queer individuals (p. 2)

there's no clear line between BL and LGBTQ media (p. 2)

why 'transfiguration'? -> transit from one culture to another (p. 3)

BL: minor and often underground as a genre, still

4 overlapping attributes of BL and fandoms: 1) transnational + transcultural media phenomenon, 2) useful tool for unsettling gender and sexual norms, 3) cannot be separated from LGBTQ issues including politics, 4) BL is political (p. 4)

note on piracy of BL, its impact on Japanese producers, and how this is rarely discussed (*) (p-5)

1980s/1990s: BL makes it to Taiwan, Korea, China -> category blurring? (p. 5)

shipping as a part of BL fandom (p. 6)

legal issues in Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore (p. 7)

shipping/fan works were a part of BL culture from the 1970s onwards (cf. Welker 2015) (p. 7)

seme/uke dynamics + shifts? -> mutability of gender (p. 8)

way of alternatives to masc stereotypes for cishet men (fudanshi) (p. 8)

blurring of gay and straight? (p. 8/9)

taboos around BL in Japan arise because it's often sexual and women engage with it (p. 9)

elsewhere in Asia: BL often serves as 'first conscious contact' for middle-class Indian and Indonesian fans with homosexuality -> may prompt reconsideration of own preconceptions/ideas/religious doctrine. (p. 9)

"representational appropriation" of images of gay men (cf. Ishida 2007) (p. 10)

fans turning activist for queer rights in Taiwan (p. 10/11)

rosy image of Japan among gay male fans of BL in mainland China (p. 10)

BL as progressive force for good (p. 10)

impact of US lawmaking on international fan communities (p. 10)

fan wars in South Korea (odeokku vs hujoshi) ca 2016; -> more recently: SK version of yaoi ronsou? (p. 11)

BL queer in that it flouts and facilitates the flouting of sexual and gender norms, has been pushing cishet fans to think about queer rights and the social standing of queer folks, sometimes even pushed fans to activism (p. 12)

grouping chapters under national/regional headings potentially misleading -> borders not so clear in the lives of fans and the texts they engage with (p. 13)

(*) I would LOVE to read more about this personally, anyone got anything? point me!

… this took entirely too long and I REALLY need to work on my handwriting, but I hope this might've been interesting to some. If you read this book (or anything else from the realm of BL scholarship), feel free to hmu, I'm an amateur but I love to talk this sort of stuff!

[imdead770]

I love the one you did for Steve, could you do a best friends to lovers for Johnny too?

Johnny Cade x Reader - Childhood Friends

Authors Note - Why are there so many requests for childhood friends?? Not complaining though, keep requesting Enjoy!

▪︎ I think Johnny was pretty shy as a kid

▪︎ Didn't raise his hand, rarely spoke, the one kid teachers would say to 'talk louder' when he read to the class

▪︎ You met whenever the teacher rearranged the seating chart in 3rd grade

▪︎ You were either

A) Super social

Or

B) Just like him

▪︎ If you're super social it worked out flawlessly

▪︎ You answered questions for Johnny

"Can you answer this one, Johnny?"

"..27.5..?"

"What was that?"

"Oh, he said 27.5. He's right."

▪︎ Probably got you in trouble a few times

▪︎ "I'm the teacher of this class!"

▪︎ "Let him talk for himself!"

▪︎ He was eternally grateful for it, though

▪︎ You helped him come out of his shell

▪︎ If you were quiet you two would have an unspoken bond

▪︎ Like you barely talk but you're best friends

▪︎ You have the same problems as him so he relates to you

▪︎ Either way, you two bonded

▪︎ By middle school you were still helping him out

▪︎ I think by now he had the gang

▪︎ But say the gang was off doing their own thing, you'd bring him into your friend group

▪︎ Again, eternally grateful

▪︎ Another thing he's grateful for, you always stood up for him to the socs

▪︎ Whether you're a soc or a grease, you always told them to fuck off

▪︎ You beat some girls ass some time because she called Johnny a pathetic quiet kid with no friends

▪︎ She had to get nose surgery

▪︎ 💀

▪︎ You tell him all the gossip (if you're into that)

▪︎ Like he has blackmail on everyone because of you

▪︎ By high-school he still looks like a middle schooler

▪︎ He's kind of jealous of how you matured so fast

▪︎ Like here he is looking like a 13 year old

▪︎ You're over here looking like you could be on the cover of vogue

▪︎ You helped him see he's lucky, though

"Johnny, when we're 70 years old, I'm gonna look like a pile of ashes and you're gonna like 20."

▪︎ You would've said 'plus you look cute', but you didn't want to ruin the friendship

▪︎ He comes to your house instead of the lot

▪︎ Sometthing about you comforts him

▪︎ Maybe because you're the only one in his life who can calm him down

▪︎ Remember that one time he got jumped?

▪︎ Once he got found by the gang he immediately wanted you

▪︎ He knows the gang couldn't comfort him

▪︎ Sure they'd try, but you could help him

▪︎ Two-Bit hauled him on over to your place

"Heyy, Tw-.. Johnny, what the fuck..?"

▪︎ Even though the gang was really worried they couldn't help but give each other the look

▪︎ The 'ooh she likes him too' look

▪︎ Only for a second though, the next they were helping you patch him up

▪︎ You were holding him, trying to calm him down

▪︎ Which surprisingly somewhat worked

▪︎ He wasn't trembling anymore, just a bit shaky

▪︎ Now that he looks back on it that's the moment he fell head over heels for you

▪︎ Nobody's ever cared for him like that

▪︎ Not Dal, not the gang, not his parents

▪︎ Nobody could calm him down like that

▪︎ He was way more grateful than he was in 3rd grade

▪︎ Now that the jumping has passed

▪︎ He's a bit more awkward around you

▪︎ Just a bit

▪︎ Cause he's literally in love with you

▪︎ And you're like

'Shit, was I too clingy? God, he hates me'

▪︎ Completely clueless he's liked you since you first stood up for him in elementary

▪︎ I don't think Johnny would ever tell you

▪︎ He can't do feelings, he's been hurt too much

▪︎ Eventually Dal has had enough of it

▪︎ Sometime he finally remembers to talk to you

"Listin', ya gawta tell Johnny cake 'bout you crush. Neither of ya' are slick, get it ova' wit."

▪︎ Accurate New York accent right there

▪︎ I think, I don't know

▪︎ Anyways, back on topic

▪︎ I'm going with the social character here

▪︎ Sorry introverts

▪︎ Eventually you finally get the guts to tell him

▪︎ It's one of the nights you're in your room together, casually sitting together, talking

▪︎ He's mid sentence, but if you wait you'll loose your sudden burst of confidence

"Hey, Johnnycake?"

"So-... Yeah?"

"Yknow I care for you a lot, yeah?"

▪︎ He's already blushing

"Uh.. yeah"

"What if I said I like you?"

▪︎ Pure silence

▪︎ He's blushing his ass off

▪︎ Eventually he gets out the words stuck in his throat

"Like.. like like?"

"Yeah.. like that."

▪︎ Couldn't even speak

▪︎ He's too flustered

▪︎ But at the same time he's super happy

▪︎ But it's still awkward

".. I like ya' too."

"Yeah?"

"..Yeah."

▪︎ It didn't end with some romantic kiss, he's not ready for that

▪︎ You both just smiled at each other

"Mkay.. so, what were you saying about Steve?"

▪︎ He's still blushing, processing

▪︎ Smiling.

"I got no idea."

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part III.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25

GIF: Originally posted by @ravenclairee​​​

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hello Tumblr peeps. I’ve had another parasomnia episode since I posted last. This time I thought there was a crack in the ceiling above my bed and there were gelatinous things falling through. Such fun! Hope you enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think, and also if you want to hear more about my night time hallucinations. Have a great day, Saskia

Sandman Masterlist

------------------

You resurface with a nervous energy humming in your bones. You are lying on your side, facing the curtain shrouded window. Thick crusts of sleepy dust have accumulated along your lower lash lines and in the corners of your eyes. You rub them away carefully with an index finger.

A siren wails outside. Your stomach rumbles loudly. Rhythmic ticks emanate from the wristwatch that sits on your bedside table.

There is no doubt that you are awake now.

You exhale shakily, successfully dispelling a single ounce of tension. You immediately feel less anxious, and your following inhales and exhales provide further relief.

That was some dream.

You begin to piece the sections together. Night terror into hallucination, into dream... into whatever the heck that was at the end.

It was a complex beast, but so was your life right now. You were now up to 8 days in a row of these parasomnia episodes. It was getting silly now, you knew this, and you were tired beyond measure, yet you were completely unable to get sustained rest without some kind of subconscious interruption. 

And with your emotions in constant overdrive and showing no signs of letting up, you were certain that they were going to continue for a little bit longer. 

A frustrated huff of air escapes your lips; you know your swirling mind will stop you from getting back to sleep for a while now.

Your thoughts drift back to your mind-conjured images of the beautiful Dream Man with the ethereal voice. He was a whole other breed of night terror. 

You wonder if perhaps you are losing your grip on reality and if a visit to the GP was in order. It was a task for tomorrow though, as there was no way you could make contact in the middle of the night.

You roll onto your back and realise that your lamp is on. You guess you must have fallen asleep again before getting a chance to switch it off after the hallucination part of your night.

You turn another 90 degrees, further towards the warm glow that pervades the space around you. By this point, the energy saving bulb has heated up enough, not only to successfully cast light across your whole mattress but also illuminate the face of the 'Dream Man' who is sitting on the chair across the room.

"Oh fuck!" You exclaim, recoiling away from him.

Your heart rate picks up like a sprinter off the starting blocks.

The man holds his hands up, palms facing you in a show of peace.

His voice rumbles with the same rainstorm-like quality as it did before.

"I will not hurt you. You have my word."  

You're not listening to him in the slightest though. Your chest is pounding painfully and you are worried you may vomit. A stream of consciousness falls from your lips instead.

"You're real. You're fucking real. Fuck! And I'm wearing next to nothing. Fuck!"

You're looking down at your bare legs peeking out from the tousled covers and hastily rearrange them to regain some dignity.

You look back to him and fix him with an accusatory stare.

"You have some serious explaining to do."

"I agree. Where would you like to begin?"

Your eyes drift off to the left as you try and choose.

You know that you should probably start with something like ‘why are you here?’ or ‘how did you get in?’ but all you keep coming back to is the question you utter with trepidation:

“Who are you?”

"In the folklore and legends of your world, I am known as The Sandman, The Oneiromancer. Across the other realms, I go by many names. I am Dream of the Endless, Lord Morpheus, The Shaper of Form, Keeper of the Dreaming, King of Dreams, Ruler of Nightmares and Curator of the collective unconsciousness of the universe."

"Okay, Daenerys Targaryen." You stifle a giggle in response to your joke.

He doesn't react.

"Huh, not into Game of Thrones then? You should look it up. Although I would advise sticking to the books. The series got a bit lost towards the end."

He shifts ever so slightly in the seat, the moss green velvet fabric standing out against his dark clothes. You snap back to the present.

You fidget with the seam of the duvet cover as your cheeks flush with blood. His gaze makes you feel insecure. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to start babbling like that. I haven't been sleeping well."

“I know. That is precisely why I am here.”

His hands steeple in front of him. He leans forward, blue eyes trained on you intently.

“It has come to my attention that you have become the recipient of a plague of vicious and unrelenting nightmares. I have also seen a drastic change in your sleeping habits, with a concerning decline in the amount of time that you are spending in the Dreaming.”

This was no surprise to you in the slightest.

You had been deferring your bed time to a later and later point in the hope that you could tire yourself out enough to bypass the nightmares and night terrors. But they would always be there within an hour of your head hitting the pillow and would prevent you from getting no more than two hours of sleep at a time.

The Dream Man rises slowly and fluidly from the chair. His expression is tinged with something you cannot interpret.

“I've been observing you for a number of nights now to try and ascertain the cause of your plight. The very idea that this is happening to you as a result of a defect or weakness in the fabric of my realm truly disturbs me. As of yet, I have been unable to pinpoint the exact reason, however I will do everything in my power to ensure my success.”

He’s close to you now, his glacial scent drifts over you like mist rolling off a waterfall. 

“To be unable to sleep is to suffer. I only have to look at you to see that you are suffering and I cannot allow it to continue.”

You know all too well what he is seeing. Your bruised and swollen under-eyes have been the focus of many of the people you have come into recent contact with.

“I don’t know what to say,” you finally speak in a whisper.

“You do not need to say anything, for now you must sleep.”

He turns off your lamp and takes a single step backwards.

“Wait,” you call to him. “I don’t think I can sleep knowing what I now know.”

“You need not worry. I have already selected a dream for you. All you have to do is let it take you.”

“But-.”

“Lie down. Close your eyes.”

You visibly hesitate.

“Do as I say, Y/N.”

You reluctantly recline on your side but do not fulfill his second request.

You gaze at him with glassy, tired eyes.

"I'm afraid."

"They will not come for you, I promise. I will watch over you until morning."

You can't help but believe him.

You re-arrange your pillows and curl into a foetal position.

The Dream Man takes this as a sign that you are ready to sleep, and begins to walk away.

He is wrong.

In your tired delirium, you begin to converse chaotically to his retreating figure.

"You know, I still don’t know what to call you. You said so many names but didn’t tell me which one I was allowed to use."

He turns his head to look back at you.

His reply is a soft intonation that causes shivers to run through your entire body.

“You may call me Morpheus."

-----------------------

"These are the days. These are the strangest of all. These are the nights. These are the darkest to fall."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998

[local-redhead-bookworm]

I've rewatched the battle of starcourt episode and I'm mad. I'm mad-sad.

When el was talking to billy trying to bring him back, to make him escape the mind flayer's control, she used THE ONLY HAPPY MEMORY THAT BILLY HAD. Whilst in sez 2, when the gang was trying to do the same with will, they used like 20 happy memories, or more. He didn't break from it, he just managed to send them a message, but that's different and I don't blame will at all cause he was younger and all of that. He gets a pass. That boy suffered enough.

However, what made me mad-sad is the parallel. Billy had one happy memory. Will had 20+. Billy was 18 and he had one happy memory. Will was 12-13 and already had 20+ happy memories, just like any child should.

People see that shit and then they have the audacity to say that Billy deserved to die. They say that his tiny redemption arc was enough and it was his time to die. Really?

Also, I've seen some reactions on that episode on youtube and to see people cheer when Billy was injured or humiliated and then CRY at his death scene and his past (when el gets inside his brain)???? Like what the actual fuck???

Sorry for the language but I'm shocked. Sorry for ranting to you but i know you will understand. Thank you for listening :)

Never apologize for rambling about Billy. He’s my baby boy and I could talk about him until the cows come home.

Battle of Starcourt is an episode that I hate to rewatch. Literally every character in the show had multiple happy memories. Billy had only one. His life has been such an accumulation of anguish that he has only one good memory, and it seems like he buried it deep down too, maybe because that one good memory was too painful in comparison to all the bad ones, because it reminded him that things weren’t always the way they are when he dies.

I don’t understand people who cheer when Max knocks Billy unconscious. Like one, there’s no music to clue us in that this is meant to be triumphant. Two, that’s basically a mirror image of what Neil did. I saw that scene and it completely rearranged how I saw Billy’s character. Maybe it’s because I’m a bleeding heart for traumatized characters with “bad” coping mechanisms, but anyway.

I don’t understand how someone could go from cheering at seeing him being abused to crying when he dies. It just doesn’t add up. We have a whole season to see that Max and Billy’s relationship since season two has gotten better. It’s only implied, but we’ve gone from her hating him to just being like “eww he’s my gross older brother” and looking distressed while he was in the sauna and cradling his body.

His death is a heartbreaking scene. I can see why the scene would make people cry because it’s very well done with the music and framing and all that, and they really drive home just how painful and tragic his death was. Heck, it made me cry last time I watched it. The shot right before he holds off the monster’s tentacle (you know the one) emphasizes just how young he is. I know that Dacre was ~24, but still, Billy was just 18. He had his whole life ahead of him.

[darthwheezely]

grande - g.w.

Summary: George meets a mighty adorable barista in the new cafe on Diagon Alley and the man just can’t help himself... based off the song Coffee Girl by Johnny Socko! Sorry this took me absolute ages (9 days oops) to get out, guys :/

Warnings: DIABETIC FLUFF STUPID AMOUNTS OF CARDIAC ARREST INDUCING FLUFF UWU,mentions of sexism, Fred being Fred, cussing probably, alludes to sex, PG/PG-13

taglist or people that might like this but idk: @theweasleyslut @kitwalker02 @loony-loopy-lupinn @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @thehufflepuffwife @monoscandal @lupinsclassroom @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @rogueweasleys @band--psycho @lumosandnoxwriting @oh-for-merlins-sake @amxrtentias @virgohufflepuff @vivianweasley

George Weasley didn’t sleep. This had long been the habit of his ever since he and his parents had discovered that his elder twin Fred had been an avid sleepwalker by age 4, then became a (minor) party animal in his Hogwarts days, and finally when he became the co-owner of one of the Wizard World’s most successful entrepreneurs and business owners.

The man hadn’t slept in about 18 years give or take. And days like this reminded him of it constantly.

It was a Saturday, the first of the month, and to boot, it was about to be Christmas in a little over a week. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was packed with everyone from couples window shopping, children in desperate need of fun now that school was out, parents trying to keep them in line, and even some old lady named Ethel (who swore she was part Veela, and therefore Fred couldn’t “escape her girlish charm.”)

“Ethel, you have an absolutely ravishing day, and don’t even worry about that moisturizer it’d be a waste of product on a natural beauty like you” Fred winked and kissed the old lady’s hand, George watching from the top of the steps rolling his eyes.

“Oh, Freddie, you know how to keep a lady young, don’t you? Oh - goodbye, Georgie! Have a good rest of your day boys!” She waved majestically to the younger twin on the stairs and he bowed royally in response.

“Bye, Ethel!” They both called as she exited the building, the bells flurrying in her wake.

“Georgie, mate, hate to say it but you are being uncharacteristically quiet and it’s making me uncharacteristically uncomfortable.” Fred said bounding up the stairs to meet him, chuckling briefly.

“Freddie, mate, hate to say it but I’ve had absolutely no sleep as of late and it’s getting to me. But I’ll be back up to my usual antics in no time.” He padded down the stairs, winking at a couple young ladies ogling him, sending them into a fit of giggles. Fred sat down on the middle step eyeing his brother carefully. It didn’t take a genius to see George wasn’t holding on much longer, the dark circles littering his eyes and the way he mussed up his already purposely messy hair just...didn’t comfort his older twin at all.

“George.” Fred sighed, George looking back at him, confused. He took his hands away from the merchandise Wonder Witch he’d been rearranging and gave him full attention.

“Take your lunch break early. And longer if possible.”

“Pffft, why would I do that when I have women to woo and boxes to juggle?”

“George.”

“Fred.”

“Stop, I mean it. You look half dead as it is, just go take a nap or get an espresso from the cafe down the aisle or something that reinforces the idea that yes, you are a human being and no, not a zombie.” Fred crossed his arms feeling suddenly a lot like Molly and dropped the cross. George pretended to ponder this tapping his chin, rather finding the mature brother role reversal funny as hell.

“Oh, alright, but can I still be a zombie when I get back?”

Fred hit him with a folder and sent him on his way.

-•-•-

You had just finished the lunch rush, finally being able to calm down and not have to worry about making one more goddamn Butterbeer Latte for at least another 20 or so minutes...until there’d be another rush. You grabbed a lemon scone, took off your apron and sat against the back counter. You inhaled the citrus scent, it was always something that you loved to savor, and took a bite.

The holidays for the Merlin’s Mochas, the cafe, had been absolutely atrocious so far. All you had for customers were angry businessmen, bratty kids and their upper class parents who let them run around the already small place being rude to everyone, your boss Lionel who had an affinity for calling every woman who worked there a “bitch” (...ok lionel) and to top it all off: you’d been pulling 9 hour days every day except sundays. Needless to say: you kind of super hated your job.

You had just finished your scone when you heard the door chime signal a customer, immediately wiping your hands on your jeans and restrapping your apron.

“Hi how can I-“ oh Jesus this is the hottest man I have ever seen. He was easily no older than 23, fiery red hair, a perfectly tailored striped terracotta suit, green tie, and the most gorgeous doe brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“How can you...?”

“Help you, ohmygod, I am so sorry I’m super-“

“Tired? Yeah me too...interesting how similar we are this early in the game hmm?” He winked at you and your knees felt too weak. No he was just a stupid hot customer that also was really hot and also? Was super hot. No worries, Y/N, just don’t die by 22 okay thanks.

“Very funny...wait are you-“ your finger led from him to the statue outside Wizard Wheezes, realizing a simple oh shit

“Yeah, that would be me. Or my twin Fred but we never really decided, that’s why he kind of looks like both of us mixed. Although we’re twins so we basically look the same anyway. I mean because were identical. Twins, yeah.” George, what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you sweating? She’s just a simply beautiful girl in a simply maddeningly purple coffee shop can you please breathe and not make yourself look stupid-

“Oh, wow! I’ve never met a twin before - not like twins are anomalies or anything it’s just so crazy. Science. Science is crazy” You closed your eyes and took a breath

“We should probably start over shouldn’t we?” You wrinkled your nose.

“That sounds much more redeeming than anything we both were about to say” George breathed out laughing softly, rubbing his hand through his hair.

“I’m George. Weasley. Like I said, I work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, the shop over there, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place before...or you for that matter, I never forget a beautiful young woman.” He said smoothly, his heart steadily subsiding - something about you had the power to not only make him scared out of his mind, but also totally at ease.

You returned the smile, warmly, the blood rushing to your cheeks at his compliment and sticking your tongue to your teeth. “Well, George Weasley, of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes I’m Y/N Y/L/N. And yeah, we’re new around here,” you leaned further onto the counter, realizing, albeit a moment too late that your eye level was directly with his abs now, and although he was wearing a suit...you could definitely tell they were there.

“We erm, just opened three months ago. It’s honestly a bit of a time to work here.”

“Oh and why is that?”

“Well, nothing like a blatant sexist to run an entirely female employed establishment and weird stuffy rich people.” Your eyes widened suddenly, and you felt like you had said far too much far too soon. But he gasp-laughed - laugh that ended as soon as it began and burst into a smile...like you had shared a secret with him.

“What the hell is he doing here then? Got a boy’s club to run in a purple coffee shop?”

“I mean you never really know these days, George, imposters are among us at every moment” you purred and pushed off the counter, meaning it as a joke but George’s heart screamed when he heard your name. As you moved to the other edge of the counter, he followed you.

“What a resourceful and cruel young woman, I am starting to like you, Miss Y/L/N.” He clucked. “And do you think of me like you think of Mr. I-Hate-Women-That’s-Why-I-Hire-Them?” He got inches from your face, smelling the coffee beans and vanilla extract that riddled your skin.

“Hmm...Mr. Weasley, I’m not so sure.” You coyly stepped away from him and took long strides to the far end of the coffee bar by the wall. George immediately felt a pit of flirtatious butterflies and (arousal?) something more in his stomach, jaw dropped, he followed you again. He pressed his hands to the counter in front of you.

“Well, how can I convince you?” He asked rather quickly.

“Hmm...” you leaned forward like he did before and his breath hitched in his throat “...let’s get you a cuppa first.”

-•-

“Wait, okay let me get this straight-“

“Yes?”

“You have 6 other siblings.”

“Yes.”

“...because your mom wanted a girl?”

“That-that would in fact be true, yes.”

You thought for a moment.

“So you’re telling me after she made it through you two-“

“-she still wanted to have more of us, believe me, it races through my mind daily.” He nodded vehemently laughing with you. You two had taken to the empty cafe at a table nestled in the corner, him sitting in a chair across from you on a bench. You had both been cracking each other up with stories from your childhoods, like how you both had managed to never know of the other’s existence until now.

He’d discovered that you had transferred from Hogwarts to Beauxbatons early on in your fourth year. You, a Hufflepuff, loved the quiet and soft landscape of the French school. You both had absolutely no idea the other existed. How? The world may never know.

He was brash. You were careful.

He was already flying when you were just feeling comfortable learning how to walk.

But you sat there with him for the better amount of an hour and a half, laughing and interrupting each other with memories of the school years you had, some weird and strange, and especially during fourth year, hard for George to talk about.

Ginny, his baby sister, had almost died. And as he said to you in a candid and highly vulnerable state: he blamed himself for almost letting her go to this day.

“I...I really do believe it was my fault.”

“George, it couldn’t have been your fault. Hogwarts is a big freaking death trap - you and I both know that,” you had said with an exasperated laugh, eager to make him feel better in any facet.

“Yeah, but...I’m her big brother. Yes, she has five other older brothers but...we were supposed to protect her.” He swallowed and blinked back tears. “It was her first year, for Christ’s sake, and I paid about as much attention to her as a doorknob would.” He had rolled his jaw and taken a gulp of his gingerbread latte (you had said it was your favorite, and he was loathe to try anything else) and you had softly draped your hand on top of his.

“If she’s as kind and loving and funny as you, I’d love to meet her.” You quipped, a small smile growing on your face in effort to soothe. He had smiled back at you, turning your hand over in his and drawing his digits lazily over your palm.

“Funny, because I was thinking the same thing.”

-•-

He had told you to close your eyes, that much had been true.

See, his coffee had started to get cold. So, like if you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll have to have some milk-

If you give a George a latte he will have to not only have another one, but also feel the strenuous need to show off for you and take you to his place of work. Naturally. And it was so lucky that by the time he’d proposed you leave, he even helped you clean and lock up afterwards.

Truthfully, it almost scared you how much he had seemed to care.

“Alright, Y/N, darling, I’m going to release my hands on the count of three, yeah?”

“Perfect, Georgie” you giggled. You’d legitimately only knew him for so long, but you just...you trusted him. He grinned widely, his strong hands only applying a slight amount of pressure as not to hurt you.

“Alright, then. 1. 2-“ he took his hands off your eyes and watched you adjust not only to light, but to your surroundings as well.

“3.” He breathed out taking in the way you smiled like a teenager, face alight with pure inundating wonder. You squealed and started to run around the store.

“Look at these! Pygmy Puffs - ugh they’re so adorable look at this one! Oh, oh - ‘Fizzing Whizbees’ - these look absolutely wicked! And Per- ‘Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder’?” You picked up the glittery stone in your hand, and heard a smooth voice perk up behind you.

“A real money spinner, that one.” You turned around and there was a man that looked absolutely identical to George, although entirely different in the same way.

“Handy if you need to make a quick getaway,” you heard George on the other side of you. He smiled warmly down at you, nodding his head up to look at the twin across from him.

“Y/N, this is my-“

“-older, much more attractive and fiscally responsible brother.” He winked and you blushed almost immediately. “Fred. Weasley.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Georgie has told me a lot about you and the shop - absolutely marvelous this place is, I cant believe you two created so much in such a short span of time. Brilliant it all is, really!” George had started to flush, rubbing his jaw to seemingly take the red away from his striking face. Fred, upon hearing the genuine warmth from your voice and the unmistakable use of “Georgie” had a small, but highly distinct aha moment:

“Well, we couldn’t have done it all on our own, one of our best friends helped us out a good lot. But thank you, really...it means so much when other people see how much we do and-” he looked directly at George.

“-acknowledge the things we love, right George?”

“Absolutely, Frederick.” Fred had given him the look that seemed to imply: “please, God, make a damn move.”

“Well, Y/N, I’m going to be off and woo some ladies, have a biscuit and do some paperwork” he smiled wide when you giggled, already enjoying your company.

“But I hope to see you again, very soon, yeah? Please stop by whenever you can, we’re alwYs just down the street.”

“Freddie, for your company, I’m not so sure, I’m still deciding.” You quipped. Fred laughed heartily at that and looked at George.

“Georgie, I like this one.” George looked at you and winked.

“Me, too Freddie, me too.” You leaned back on your heels as Fred padded back up the stairs to the flat, now completely alone with George. You threw your arms behind you back and forth and took a long stride to George.

“So...what are you those?” You nodded up to the array of pink bubbles in a clam shape in the corner. He hummed and reached to grab your hand.

“Love potions - c-can I show you?” He raised an eyebrow slightly, but he felt his whole body turn to mush when you accepted his hand and nodded slowly. As he walked with you, you memorized the feeling of his callouses and veins, the way your hand curled deliberately in his.

You wanted to make sure if it was the last time you felt something like that, you had that memory with you for a while.

“Essentially, if you give these to a person they will temporarily have feelings of love and attraction for you. Depending of course on the dosage you use and the weight of the person in question.” He explained. You watched the way his suit jacket pulled taut against his back muscles and instinctively wanted to honestly just take the whole thing off-

“Hmm...I don’t know about these, Georgie.” You hummed mischievously. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

He scoffed placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Am i being questioned in my own establishment, Miss Y/L/N?”

You rolled your eyes and hit his arm, bowing slightly at him. “Well, do forgive my feminine insolence, Mr. Weasley, it’s not often I meet such bewitching mad scientists like you.” You watched his face grow blank for a moment at your compliment and immediately wanted to throw up.

“George, I’m really sorry, I know we just became friends-“

“Do you mean it?” He took a step towards you. You swallowed finding again his perfect milk chocolate eyes. You nodded.

“Hell yeah I did, you’re smart...and wicked hot” you both laughed at that. He took another step, the distance being unbearably harder to live in as his digits found a piece of hair and wound it behind your ear.

“Well, darling, the feeling is quite mutual.” He said quietly, taking in the whole of your face. He wanted to crash his lips onto every possible nook and crevice of your face, collide with you entirely.

“We’re going to have to do something about that, then, aren’t we?” You gently nudged his nose with yours and wrapped your arms around his neck, his strong and powerful arms pulling you to him gently. He wanted you to feel him not to break under his embrace. He leaned down and brushed his lips up to yours, feeling you whine and let out a minuscule sound.

“Got you making noises for me already and haven’t even kissed you yet, hmm?”

Your eyes fluttered close and one of your legs made it’s way in between his, snapping any chance at loose air between you two out of the way.

“Please, Weasley, pants a bit small for you?”

“Keep talking like that and they might, yeah.” You two laughed softly and with a final look to your lips he closed the last gap.

His mouth was perfect. His lips ghosted over yours one last time before wrapping every part of himself onto your frame, your lips entangled in each other like you’d never be able to taste him again.

But it was loving and slow and sweet. He tasted like gingerbread lattes and pastries and cinnamon and licking into his mouth you could feel the spice. He moaned lightly into your mouth, sending your knees buckling. He dipped you slightly, a hand traveling to your lower back to keep you steady, and his other hand coming up to nestle under the nape of your hair. Your hands caressed his face, his chest, needless to say? You wanted them everywhere. You wanted him everywhere.

The kiss broke and you and George were left breathless in each other’s hold, your foreheads pressed together as he kept you slightly dipped.

“Y/N, I’m feeling a bit tired” he quipped hoarsely, pressing a brief kiss to your lips and onto your neck. You hummed satisfactorily.

“Georgie, you’re gonna need another latte aren’t you?” You set multiple chaste kisses to his lips and cheeks, feeling him rumble with a small giggle. He caught your mouth with his and you moaned slightly.

“I’m gonna need a whole pot, to drink you in, love.”

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 37

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Fuck the Canon: Happy Endings For Everyone

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36

There is no tea.

Not only is there no tea, but the Emperor’s small private study, located just beyond his personal chambers, is distinctly lacking in any accommodations necessary to serve or consume tea.

Ordinarily, WangJi would find himself irritated, even by such a harmless deception. After five days spent in the Immortal Mountain, however, he finds that he has become more patient. Perhaps not with others, but certainly with the Emperor, whose careless attitude and playful nature seem to conceal a much more complex character, one that WangJi has grown to respect.

The Lan Sect does not listen to gossip, but their new lodgings in the Jade Sword Palace make gossip impossible to avoid. Wei WuXian had lingered by WangJi’s side long past midnight, sunrise only hours away by the time they had finally parted. Yet, great many things seem to have happened since then, each one significant enough to shake the Immortal Mountain to its roots.

Before noontime tea, the Young Master of the Jin Sect had seen his betrothal annulled, the Jiang Sect had fallen out of favor, Sect Leader Nie had been given a title, and the Council seems to hover on the verge of being dissolved.  

WangJi cannot begin to guess what all of these events mean, separate or together, but he knows that Wei WuXian could not have possibly had a sufficient amount of sleep. He also knows that the world of court schemes and maneuverings, as distasteful as he finds it to be, is an inevitable reality of Wei WuXian’s existence. A part of him is even slightly curious, tentatively attempting to forge a connection between these seemingly unconnected events. Another part of him feels pity, that Wei WuXian cannot begin his day without some sort of upheaval.  

Even now, standing by the desk, wrapped in the heavy, intricate layers of the Imperial dragon robes, the Emperor is all exhaustion and tension. Less than a dozen hours have passed since they had seen each other last; WangJi had spent those hours in the peace and silence of the Imperial guest chambers. Wei WuXian looks as if he had spent them on the battleground, fighting for his life.

Still, when he sees WangJi, his face tranforms.

“Lan Zhan.”

WangJi nods in response. He is not sure when he had become fond of the way Wei WuXian says his name, but he can no longer deny the inevitable elation following on its heels. Each time, his name comes with an accompanying smile, and each time, that smile is for him alone.

“I hope you were not expecting tea,” Wei WuXian says ruefully.

WangJi does not dignify that with a response. One must adjust their expectations when faced with an Emperor who runs barefoot over the rooftops, and becomes unreasonably excited over rabbits.

“Uh, right,” Wei WuXian says, “there is something I need you to see.”

The bookcase behind the desk is filled to bursting. Perhaps, if it were only used to hold books, there would be plenty of space, and little to no chaos. But Wei WuXian seems to have filled the shelves with anything that could fit, and many things that could not, creating a precarious mess of objects that could topple at the smallest disturbance. There are numerous jade figurines of all sizes, small pots, boxes and ink stones, a few odd shapes that resemble children’s toys, books and scrolls crammed in between the objects, all with no sense or order.

It is a surprise when Wei WuXian manages to pull out three books and a flat box hiding behind them, without knocking anything to the ground. WangJi realizes that he has shifted to stand on his toes, fully expecting to have to provide assistance, or perhaps even protection from any wayward object that may come flying off the shelf to cause potential injury. No such thing occurs, however, and he places his heels back down, feeling silly for his overabundance of caution.

The flat box looks plain and light. Inside, it holds a single piece of paper, although it is immediately obvious that the paper is an Imperial Order, the Emperor’s stamp bright and bold, and difficult to miss.

WangJi does not expect Wei WuXian to simply offer the paper for perusal, without ceremony, and without any hint as to what the Order holds.

He is even more confused once he realizes that the paper is actually a declaration of succession. In the event of Wei WuXian’s death, the throne is to pass to--

He blinks. The Imperial Order is not long, for there is not much to the actual succession except naming the heir. Still, WangJi reads it again, just to be certain that he has not read the name in error.

He has not.

Well.

While he is reading, Wei WuXian is fidgeting. The dragon robes are not designed for such impatient movement, and WangJi resists the urge to grab him by the shoulders, and tell him to stop plucking at the golden thread on his sleeves. The robe probably costs more than thirty villages are capable of producing in a year.

He offers the paper back.

“I do not understand.”

“Which part?” Wei WuXian says slowly, and WangJi blinks at him.

Is there more than one part to the succession? No, he has read it twice.

“I do not understand why I need to know this,” WangJi clarifies.

“Oh,” Wei WuXian says, smiling again, but it is a nervous smile, as jittery as his hands, “This-- it is important. The-- line of succession. The person I intend to marry should know that the heir has already been chosen.”

WangJi narrows his eyes. He feels as if he had missed a part of their conversation.

His mind inevitably turns to the rumors that had flown rampant in the palace that same morning; the new title granted to the Nie Sect Leader, the dissolution of the Young Master Jin’s betrothal, and the possible dissolution of the Council.

Does-- Wei WuXian mean to marry Jin ZiXuan? It is a preposterous idea. Absolutely ridiculous.

But even so, WangJi suddenly finds that Jin ZiXuan cannot be allowed to live. WangJi will challenge him to a fight, then remove each and every one of his limbs, starting with his head. This should not be difficult to accomplish.

“You are angry,” Wei WuXian says, “I should have-- perhaps I should not have begun with the line of succession. I am not good at--“ he waves his hand, as if the motion is somehow supposed to make his words less incoherent.

He looks agitated and unhappy, and WangJi wants to help, but he is not sure how.

“You want to marry,” he says, trying to establish some logical narrative.

“Yes,” Wei WuXian says, “I want to marry. And before you disagree, I am aware that five days is an extremely limited amount of time to truly get to know another person. I have already gotten a lecture about this from A-Sang. And I have already gotten a lecture from your uncle, who can be extremely rude while remaining polite, a skill I admire, but do not want to confront again. Not if I can help it. And I-- I know life in the Immortal Mountain is probably not what you had in mind if-- if you had marriage in mind. Before today. But I think-- if you are willing to give it a chance, I could make you happy. I would like to try. To make you happy.”

There is a lag in WangJi’s understanding, as each sentence needs to be rearranged in his own mind, just so he can comprehend its meaning. Still, even with the lag, it takes him an abominably long time to fully grasp what Wei WuXian is saying.

Once he does, he finds himself shocked into stillness.

“Are you--“ Wei WuXian looks as if he means to move closer, than stops himself at the last moment, “You look-- more angry now. Than before. I understand that this is not an ideal proposal, what with the-- lack of gifts and ceremony and everything else, but--“

He sighs, apparently forgetting that his hair is neatly arranged, because his fingers make a mess of it in moments.

“An offer of marriage should not make you angry, Lan Zhan. I thought we-- does the idea of it bother you that much?”

WangJi needs to speak. Wei WuXian is capable of drawing thousands of incorrect conclusions before WangJi can formulate a single sentence, and WangJi needs to prevent this from happening, as soon as possible. But what is he supposed to say?

Clarify. This is always a good strategy, especially with Wei WuXian.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” WangJi says carefully, fully expecting Wei WuXian to laugh and deny it.

He believes that he had made his peace with the fact that the Emperor really likes him, whatever that means, when coming from a Divine Ruler. But marriage is-- something else entirely.

Even saying it out loud sounds ridiculous.

“Yes!” Wei WuXian exclaims, “Yes, I am asking you to marry me.”

“Why?” WangJi blurts out, incredulous.

“Why?” Wei WuXian repeats, the dumfounded expression on his face a perfect reflection of WangJi’s own feelings, “wh-- what do you mean, why? Because I fell in love with you. Why else would I marry someone?”

“You--“ WangJi’s throat is completely dry, and seems to have shrank into nothingness.

It is difficult to breathe, let alone form words.

This is utterly ridiculous. The most ridiculous thing WangJi has even heard, seen, or experienced, in his entire life.

And yet, he wants to hear it again. He wants Wei WuXian to say it again. The rush he had felt at those words cannot be described. It is obliterating.

Wei WuXian inches closer, his posture careful, “I still cannot tell when you are just angry, or so furious that you might try and kill me, so-- do not try and kill me? I should have probably led with the declaration of love, huh? I can try again. Lan Zhan, I am in love with you. I would really like it if you would marry me, and become the Emperor Consort. Your uncle has already given permission, and the Council is about to do so as well, or Empire will no longer have a Council. The throne already has an heir, so the succession is nothing to worry about. And since I cannot imagine sharing my life with anyone else, I can swear to take no other spouse, as long as we are both alive in the world. Is that better? Did--“

WangJi does not plan to move.

He does not plan anything. The chaos of thoughts and emotions rushing through his mind can hardly be called thinking, let alone planning. Therefore, he is astonished to find himself acting so brashly. But Wei WuXian does not waste a single moment with something so banal as surprise.

His arms immediately wrap around WangJi’s shoulders, as if they belong there. There is a faint, lingering taste of pears and honey on his lips. His mouth is soft, his breaths hot and fast, his heartbeat a forceful thunder against WangJi’s chest. The exquisite texture of the Imperial dragon robe under his hands has nothing on the actual shape of Wei WuXian’s waist. WangJi can feel the ridges of his spine through the material, enticing but also fragile, and raked with barely perceptible tremors.

Wei WuXian smiles against his mouth, then laughs, his lips pressing a quick kiss to the tip of WangJi’s nose.

“Is that a yes?” he says, “Please tell me that means yes.”

WangJi is not yet capable of forming words. An extremely advantageous hindrance, because he cannot simply accept an offer of marriage, regardless of his feelings.

The bright smile on Wei WuXian’s face begins to fade, and WangJi feels panic, that he cannot explain himself quickly and succinctly, the way the situation demands.

“Lan Zhan?”

“I cannot accept,” WangJi says.

Wei WuXian blinks at him, then shifts slightly, as if to pull away. WangJi refuses to release him, his arms wrapping more securely around the silk-clad waist, fingers clutching handfuls of delicate material.

Perhaps he does so with more strength and urgency than necessary, because Wei WuXian stumbles, catching himself against WangJi’s chest.

“I want to accept,” he clarifies, “but I cannot. I must speak to uncle first.”

“Oh,” Wei WuXian says, “That-- but he-- I have already spoken to your uncle.”

“You have spoken to many people,” WangJi points out, “Everyone whose opinion you care to hear. Other than myself.”

Wei WuXian huffs, his restless fingers now plucking at the thread of WangJi’s robes instead of his own. WangJi would grab his hands to prevent it, but this would mean releasing his hold, and he does not think he is capable of doing so, at least not yet.

“I should be allowed to do the same,” WangJi says, “You must give me time.”

Wei WuXian’s fingers have now found their way to the collar of WangJi’s robes, and the brush of them against the skin of his neck is extremely distracting. The logical part of his brain insists that this is an inappropriate way to have a serious conversation. A marriage, especially one that would make him the Emperor Consort to the Divine Ruler of the Shan Empire is perhaps the most serious conversation that can possibly be conceived.

But Wei WuXian’s hair smells like pears, sweet and heavy, and he keeps biting his already reddened lip. The other part of WangJi’s brain, the one that does not care for logic or propriety, insists that he should stop speaking and kiss him again, regardless of the seriousness of the conversation.

Lan Zhan, I am in love with you.

His arms tighten of their own volition, and Wei WuXian huffs out a laugh. It is a small laugh however, and there is and nervous edge to it, carrying over into his voice.

“How much time? Because-- what if-- what if you think about it, and then-- decide that you do not want to marry me?”

“Then, I suppose you will have to marry Nie HuaiSang,” WangJi deadpans.

Wei WuXian splutters for a few moments, the expression on his face rapidly shifting from shock to displeasure to pure exasperation. Considering how many times Wei WuXian has managed to exasperate him in turn, WangJi does not feel bad.

“Do not joke,” Wei WuXian says, “I am serious. Your uncle had given permission, but he does not like me, and he will tell you all the reasons why marrying me is a terrible--“

“Wei Ying,” WangJi says, effectively cutting off the flow of words, “I want to marry you. I will not change my mind. But you must give me time.”

He is utterly unprepared for Wei WuXian’s bright smile, the warm glow of delight that washes over his face, the tiny crinkles in the corners of his eyes. He is even less prepared to be kissed again, but he is more than willing, Wei WuXian’s mouth eagerly searching for his own.  

They should have spent the past five days kissing. Any moment that WangJi had not been kissing Wei WuXian now feels an unacceptable waste of time, one he has every intention to remedy. Although Wei WuXian seems as invested in this plan as he is, he cannot seem to help smiling into the kiss, his lips often darting to press to WangJi’s cheek, his chin, the side of his nose. It is sweet and silly, his restless excitement, and WangJi is now certain that Wei WuXian had been right.

He will be more than capable of making WangJi happy.

[woulddieforperrytheplatypus]

*spoilers for infinity War/endgame* Because technically Phineas and Ferb Is in the same universe of the MCU, does that mean that before the Avengers undid Thanos snap some of the PnF crew died? Imagine Doof Dying, Perry living but still visit his tower every day bc he misses him. Or Phineas and Ferb Dying, and Candace trying to bust them Just to rember they're gone.

WAIT THAT’S SO SAD O_O

I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if Heinz died. Perry would absolutely keep coming back to the tower even though there’s no scheme to thwart. Sometimes he’d run into Vanessa, who’s mourning just like he is. Her dad may drive her up the wall sometimes, but she still loved him and she would have to have a lot of regrets about how rocky their relationship had been at times. And assuming the squirrel powering Norm up didn’t die, he’d have the whole penthouse to himself for the first time. I don’t know if it’s in Norm’s programming to be genuinely sad, but I have to think that over five years of only finding companionship in Perry and Vanessa’s visits, he’d have to lose the cheerful air he always has. 

In fact, I think a lot of OWCA and LOVEMUFFIN would be fucked up. Only about 25% of nemesis pairs would survive, and 50% of evil scientists and agents would be left without their nemesis. There would have to be a lot of rearranging, and depending on what happens to the OWCA/LOVEMUFFIN member ratio, some agents might be without a job or some might have to double up. Can you imagine Perry taking on two evil scientists every day while he’s mourning the loss of his best friends?

And then when his day at work is done, he’d have two choices: he could go to Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc and not be met with Heinz’s self-assured monologuing, or he could go to the Flynn-Fletchers (it would be difficult to call it “home” now) and constantly be reminded that his boys are gone. I would like to think that both Linda and Lawrence get to stick around, but they’re no substitute for Phineas and Ferb.

Much like Perry’s dream in Phineas and Ferb Get Busted, Candace would be heartbroken. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she wasn’t busting the boys. It really is the only thing she’d focused on all summer, and if they just up and disappeared one day, she’d be so lost. I have to imagine that either Stacy or Jeremy would also get snapped away -- the odds that all three would live would be slim to none -- so she’d also be mourning the loss of at least one of the closest friends. Assuming one of them survived, I imagine she’d lean on them for support more than anyone, but they’d be dealing with losses in their own family, too -- they both have at least one parent and a younger sister; I imagine at least one person in their family wouldn’t make it. 

I think Candace would really hold a grudge against Perry at first because he reminds her of them. Perry’s used to her being rude -- and it’s not exactly a one-sided thing -- but never to this extent, and I think he’d take that as a sign that maybe he shouldn’t come home. He doesn’t want to sleep in Phineas and Ferb’s empty beds, anyway. It would make it easy to embrace a second nemesis at OWCA, even if he feels numb the whole time, but he’d still need somewhere to go when he’s not working, and I think he might make himself at home at DEI, at least at night when he needs somewhere to sleep. He’d be careful not to disturb anything because even though he knows Heinz is gone, he can’t stop hoping that maybe one day he’ll come back, and Perry doesn’t want to move anything for when that day comes. Even after five years, whenever he pays DEI a visit, he touches nothing but the coffee maker and the bed. 

I think eventually, though, Candace and Perry would have to be reunited. It’s a small town; they can’t stay away from each other for long. Maybe it’s Perry who takes initiative, going back home for the first time after a month just to see how everyone’s doing. Obviously everyone’s still broken up about it, but it’s been long enough that people have to start moving on and living their lives without their loved ones, no matter how much it hurts. I don’t think Perry would have gone home to see Candace, but I think once he did, he wouldn’t want to leave. And for once, I think Candace wouldn’t want him to leave, either. Yes, Perry reminds her of the boys, but so does everything and everyone else. But having him disappear within days of the boys turning to dust just left another hole in the household, and it helps to have back the only one who misses them like she does.

I think the gang would absolutely fall apart. They had nothing in common before Phineas and Ferb brought them together that summer, and with them gone, there’s no one to unite them anymore. I don’t think it would be a conscious decision, but I think they’d slowly stop spending time together and that eventually it would be almost like that summer never happened. I even think Buford would stop bullying Baljeet, even as a friend, because it just feels wrong now. They wouldn’t know how to cope without Phineas and Ferb, and it would tear everything apart.

I think the Fireside Girls would grow closer, though. I think Isabella would become much more focused on getting her patches because it’s something to take her mind off the pain and she wouldn’t have to think about the fact that she never got to tell Phineas about her crush, and I think the girls who survived would know what she was doing and they would do their best to help her. I think there’d be a lot of heart-to-hearts and a lot of tears, and maybe they’d expand their duties to try to help others who are struggling the same way they are, even if the best they can offer is some sort of distraction. 

And as heartbreaking as it is to think about what would happen when they’re all gone, I can’t even imagine what would happen when they come back. Maybe Perry’s at DEI with 21-year-old Vanessa -- a whole ass adult now -- and Norm, sitting together quietly or reminiscing about the past and bam, Heinz appears in the middle of his lab. I think that might be the first time anyone ever sees Perry cry -- and I mean full-on sobbing; he’s been waiting for this day for five years but he never actually thought it would happen. It would be such a nice, happy reunion, and I can’t even imagine how much it would mean to Heinz to know that Perry stuck around for five whole years waiting for him when he knows that everyone else has abandoned him the first chance they got. 

And then they’ve notice how loud the tower is and how busy the streets are and they’d realize that Heinz isn’t the only one who came back, and Perry would give Heinz a big hug before running out the door to see if Phineas and Ferb came home. Heinz wouldn’t understand at first -- why would Perry wait around for five years just to leave within 10 minutes of Heinz coming back? -- but Perry had spent enough time with Vanessa lately for her to know that he has a family back home. That would just make Heinz feel even better. Perry lost his two boys and he still spent so much time here.

Phineas and Ferb would be so disoriented. One second they’re building a giant disco ball, the next they’re standing in an empty yard with no friends, tools, or disco balls in sight. They’d head inside to ask their parents if they knew where Isabella, Buford, and Baljeet went, and their parents would start crying because the boys are back! After all this time, their boys are finally home! and Phineas and Ferb wouldn’t understand why they’re suddenly being given the biggest bear hugs of all time but they wouldn’t protest. And then Perry would run through the door, almost like he somehow magically knew he’d find them, and he’d stay by their side all day, only leaving (after a day full of snuggles, obviously) to go back and visit Heinz. OWCA and LOVEMUFFIN would have a lot to sort out, so he’d hopefully get at least the next couple days off to spend with his family -- both the Flynn-Fletcher family and the Doofenshmirtz family.

Candace would probably be at school -- she’d be 20, after all, and probably at a college dorm a ways away from home. Maybe shed get a call from her mom, sobbing, telling her that her brothers are back. Or maybe someone in her dorm would start screaming and telling everyone who will listen that her dad is alive and her dad’s been dead for five years and this is the best news she’s ever gotten, and soon the entire school (and probably the entire world) is on their phone calling around to see if their own families and friends are okay. The phone lines wouldn’t even be able to handle all this, and the streets would be a wreck with people trying to get to their loved ones. 

And can you imagine what it would be like for Isabella, Buford, and Baljeet to see them again? They’d be 13-15 years old at this point, and Phineas and Ferb would still be in elementary school. The boys may be mature for their age, but I have to imagine the five-year age difference would create a major rift in their friendship if they tried to go back to where they used to be. If Isabella still had remnants of a crush on Phineas, it would probably stop the moment she remembered that he’s just a little kid, and she’d have to figure out how to cope knowing that her former best friend (and first crush) is back but that they’re at such different standings in life now. Hell, Phineas and Ferb are probably closer to Little Suzy Johnson’s age than to Isabella, Buford, and Baljeet’s. I think it would really mess with Phineas and Ferb to see their friends so much older and more mature, especially because to them, they’d just been kids building crazy things the day before. 

Once again, I think the Fireside Girls would be fine. They probably would have taken in some of the Lil-Sparks-turned-Fireside-Girls like Melissa (not Chase) into their troop to make up for lost members, so the varying ages would be nothing new; they’d just be happy to have their friends back.

tl;dr I think the snap would be heartbreaking and the reunion would be bittersweet and this is the woRST ASK I’VE EVER GOTTEN AND NOW I’M GONNA CRY IN A CORNER FOR A FEW HOURS /j

[darker-soft-starker]

Tag Game

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). see if there are any patterns. choose your favorite opening line. then tag some of your favorite authors!

tagged by @starker-1975 thank you so much 🥰

1. Peter’s day started like most others. (HS AU, lanterns burning)

2. It was the protest of his bladder that woke Peter up. (la dolce vita)

3. “You’re a fucking mess.” (Solitaire)

4. The mission had been planned for weeks. (Plus One)

5. The painting is hideous, there are no two ways about it. (shaken and stirred)

6. [SCENE OPENS. A YOUNG MAN APPEARS MID-FRAME] “Hi! I’m Peter and welcome back to Pete’s Eats, where you – ah shit, the lens isn’t focused.” (Pete’s Eats)

7. Peter dreams. (this, too)

8. Tonys new neighbour is kinda weird. (Love Thy Neighbour)

9. Peter doesn’t get it. (10 Ways to Woo Your Boo)

10. When Tony kisses Peter for the first time, his whole world rearranges. (the record spins on the trails we blaze)

11. His name is Tony. (Summer Daze)

12. Peter is home for the summer, back from his first year away at college. (My Best Friends Dad)

13. It’s been said that home is where the heart is. (Good Marriage AU)

14. Peter couldn’t believe his eyes when he’d received the offer. (Untitled, Sugar Daddy AU)

15. Tony isn’t Peter’s first wealthy boyfriend. (Untitled Gold Digger AU)

16. Some things never change. Like, being riddled with nerves whilst attending big events. (Untitled post-endgame NYE)

17. It started with a movie marathon (Untitled Finally!Legal AU)

- Patterns I have tried to train myself out of lol are ones that overly illustrate how Character A starts their day/where they’re at in life. Opening the story with the literal awakening/brand new day from a character. 

- Favourite is probably from Pete’s Eats. I gambled on how I would describe the aspect of filming in hopes it would translate to the readers and Peter’s quote also just sets the scene for the chaotic, endearing shit-show of a human he is. 

Thanks so much for tagging me, this was so fun! I’m not sure who of my mutuals haven’t already been tagged so looping in @snowstark @css1992 @winterironspiderling @chokememrstark

[homeformyheart]

first line tag game

aww thank you for the tag, @pearlsandsteel!!!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

I think this has gone around for a while so anyone who wants to share that wasn’t tagged, please do! and feel free to tag me! 

but also tagging: @mistyeyedbi; @vintage-vamp; @gloynporslen; @kelseaaa; @otherworldlypresents; and @ambrosykim.

favorite opening line: I got to revisit half of the feb prompts and I gotta say I love most of ‘em, but if I had to pick a few I’d go with #3, 8, and 18 but those are mostly because they’re also my fave fics.

patterns: in all the fics except for 1, my opening line usually describes an action of a character and establishes setting, which makes sense. I think that’s how my brain works when it’s trying to create an opening scene.

1.  bucket list - drabbles w/all pairings

lyra rummaged through the drawer of her nightstand, tossing out old receipts, rubber bands, and other random knick-knacks that she really didn’t need but kept anyway “just in case.”

2.  vows - adam du mortain x regina bishop

regina took one last look at herself in the mirror, her grandmother’s veil framing her face and covering her shoulders.

3. threats - mason x ria knight

ria flexed her fingers in and out of a fist under her crossed arms as she glared at bobby fucking marks.

4. birthday - felix hauville x hayley bishop

felix zoomed around the warehouse living room, rearranging the balloons and streamers strung about the room, before tweaking the position of the large banner hung across the window.

5. prepared - adam du mortain x regina bishop

regina walked into the living room, smiling at the sight of adam reading quietly on the couch, on one of their rare days off.

6. camping - felix hauville x hayley bishop

felix stopped mid-stride, jerking hayley back a step, to let the late morning sun warm his face.

7. katniss - adam du mortain x lyra kingston x nate sewell (LT)

lyra hummed cheerfully as they arrived at a secluded part of the forest, skipping to the small clearing where several training dummies and equipment were laid out.

8. story time - adam du mortain x regina bishop

nate laid out several children’s books in front of jacques, who was seated in his lap patiently, unusual for the typically fussy child.

9. cereal - felix hauville x hayley bishop

hayley chuckled at the image of felix sitting in her shopping cart, legs crossed, skimming his fingers lightly over the shelves as she moves through the aisle.

10. dinner date - mason x brooklyn kingston

brooklyn stopped just outside of the main warehouse doors when her phone rang, motioning for mason to go on ahead without her as she picked up.

11. undercover - adam du mortain x regina bishop

adam frowned as he looked up at the detective’s apartment door from where he currently hid in the shadows of the stairwell.

12. breakfast run - mason x ria knight

they didn’t have time to address whatever had happened in the bakery that day, or at least, that’s what ria told herself.

13. guilt - felix hauville x hayley bishop

felix took a deep breath, letting the cool spring air fill his lungs, smiling despite the sharp pain from his hypersensitive internal organs.

14. photo - adam du mortain x regina bishop

farah tried to sit still, cross-legged on the bed, as regina rummaged through her packed closet for some of the old mission documents she kept forgetting to bring back to the warehouse to shred.

15. tonight - adam du mortain x regina bishop

farah ran into the room and jumped on to the full-sized bed in the room, which was just big enough to be comfortable for two people, if those two people were willing to get cozy.

16. traditions - nate sewell x m!detective (gift)

nate rubbed his hands together and blew on them to try to warm them up before shoving them back into the pockets of his coat.

17. spiked - tina poname & ria knight

ria crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to look bothered as she patrolled the perimeter of the square.

18. bets - unit bravo vs. unit alpha; adam du mortain x regina bishop

regina rubbed her eyes and tried to hide her yawn behind her hand. being at the facility sometimes felt like being at the casino or a strip club – no windows or clocks that would indicate how much time had passed.

19. heartbeat - adam du mortain x regina bishop

regina stumbled toward the ground, hand splayed against a nearby tree trunk for balance.

20. attention - mason x brooklyn kingston

things were finally quiet enough that brooklyn could catch up on paperwork. it was calming, sitting behind her desk, fingers flying over the keys, and seeing progress bit by bit

[vampiresuns]

How Will It Matter After You’re Gone

For Anatole’s day 13 of @arcana-echoes​: Aftermath.

Title: From Disenchanted - My Chemical Romance (Nana was an MCR teen, it’s only fair).

Quick guide: Here you can check on the Cassano-Radosevic family tree. Medea Pryce & Leonore Kaur are Anatole’s best friends, I owe them a post. Medea is a community organiser, and Leonore a therapist in training. Althea is his twin sister, and Navneet his eldest sibling (there’s seven Kaurs: Navneet, Sashi, Althea & Leonore, and Isha, Vaishnavi and Ashok). Navneet and Anatole end up together in one of his timelines.

Dear Vesuvia,

It is with the greatest regret that the Cassano of this City inform to the public that Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva, Of The Cassano of Vesuvia, has passed away in the Lazaret on the date —.

Taking this time to mourn, while the Cassano and the Consul will remain in the city, striving to find a cure, we inform the city that Consul Valerius has taken the decision to close the doors of the Palazzo.

Due to sanitary measures, no funeral will be held.

Milenko & Amparo

Amparo sat in the middle of the stage of the closed theatre. She wanted to be alone, everyone’s energy threatening to drag her down and never bring her back again, down to a place where the sun does not rise. Not that it matters. The sun could rise a thousand times over, and she feels like she will never notice it again. Losing Anzano, her grandparent, was hard enough. Losing Anatole was unbearable.

Her Anatole deserved the brightest of requiems, and he will have silence, in a bitter city which will probably not mourn him. Not that she can hold it against them — but it still hurts, just like it hurt to feel him die. She always knows when people die.

“Vesuvia lost it’s last honest lover,” she tells no one.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there, but she knows she must head back, and for the first time in forever, she dreads Death itself.

When she comes back, she finds Milenko sitting on Anatole’s piano, crying.

Valerian

Valerian Cassano spent three days siting in the winter garden of the Palazzo after his great grandson died. He knew the biggest loss would always be for his parents, he had gone through that long before they had to. Losing a child was something one never truly recovered of.

He remembers so clearly the first time he met that child: golden before his hair caught up with his personality, avid to learn, curious, ambitious, resolved, more intelligent than most people he’s met. He reminded him of Vitale, his father in law.

Sometimes, if you spoke to the dead, they would listen, so he tried his luck: “Elysian, my dearest friend, take care of him. Do what we could not.”

Cassiopeia

Cassiopeia Cassano considered herself a lot of things: dedicated, passionate, fair, reserved, thoughtful. Brave... bravery was something she was beginning to doubt in herself. Seeing your parent die of a disease as invasive as the plague could do that to a person — seeing someone like Anatole, with his vitality of a thousand suns, could cement it a little deeper in oneself.

Cassiopeia didn’t like endings, they were predictable and inevitable and, sometimes, unfair. At least Amparo was back, and she didn’t have to worry about wherever she was and if she would be safe. 

A door opened and closed behind her. She turned to find Iris, her spouse.

“How is Lele?”

“She’s eating, at least.”

“And Lenko?”

“Lenko doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“How... how is...”

“Louisa and Vlad? Please don’t make me answer that.”

“And Va—”

“Don’t.”

Her eyes swelled with tears. Holding her own forehead, she began to cry. Iris sat with her, holding her free hand and kissing her knuckles.

“He rearranged the filing system for the Council by himself— he—” a hiccup, “he had so many plans—”

“I know.”

“He was drafting a social reform for—”

“I know.”

“I’m never going to see him walk around with his coffee, nor terrorise the Praetor. I’m never going to see him— I’m never—”

“I know, my love, I know.”

“He would’ve been a wonderful Consul, Iris.”

Iris’ voice trembled. “I know.” They held Cassiopeia closer. The only thing they could think about was how that could’ve been Amparo.

Mircea & Florentino

“Florence?” Mircea Radošević said, looking and sounding lifeless. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

Mircea understood. He didn’t either.

Medea & Leonore

She’s cried too much to be properly angry, but no matter what she does, no matter how much she pets Leonore’s hair she keeps silently crying, snot threatening to make her unable to breathe alltogether. She’s tired, exhausted, and miserably, dreadfully alone. She feels alone in this world like she hasn’t in years. Leonore has his forehead on her forearm, and a hand on his third glass of spiced whiskey. The only reason why he stopped drinking was because he began crying again.

Medea used to think nothing was enough of a hit to fully break Leonore. He had that quality about him: feelings came, they went, and he sat with discomfort running rampant, only to build up after it was gone with a smile on his face.

Not any more.

Leonore sobbed pitifully, choking on his own cries.

After he finally managed to calm down, he looked at her: “How the fuck will I tell Navneet? How am I telling Althea.”

She began crying again. “I don’t know, Leo — I don’t have the slightest fucking idea.”

“Fucking— How the fuck am I going to wake up tomorrow if he’s, if he—”

“I don’t know, Leo... I really don’t know.”

Antupillán

Antu searched the entire city for Anatole, only not to find him anywhere.

He had gone where Antu couldn’t follow, so he did the only thing he could think of: he went back to Anatole’s room, made himself a lair in his wardrobe, and feel asleep.

If you paid enough attention, you could hear him weeping.

Vlad & Louisa

Aelius Anatole, his son, had come into the world at dawn to seal the lesson that Louisa had brought into his life: that if he knows what love is, it is because they exist. He had nicknamed him Lily because he had always been little, shorter than the other kids, yet somehow stood taller, brighter. He figures all parents think the same of their children.

His son came into the world at dawn. Vlad will never know at what time he left it. He will never know if he was scared. He will never know if the fever kept him lucid. He will never have a body to hold, just like he used to before, when Anatole still asked to be tucked in, demanding to be given a hand to tug on while he fell asleep.

He will have no stories to tell him, he will have no more hallway dances to see him dance, no more dreams, no more smiles. 

Death has taken so much from him, all he feels is rage. For the first time in years, he wishes he had died too, but he has a wife, and he can’t leave her alone.

Louisa De Silva never expected to have any children, nor she expected her only son to be taken away from her. She thinks, no, she knows she will feel hollow for the rest of her life, that nothing ever will be the same: happiness will be a ghost of what it used to be. Food will taste blander than before. Joy will be watered, and laugh will take a long vacation never to return.

That Anatole is now with her sister is no consolation at all. She’s always loved Paris, but right now, she’s envious of her. Wherever it is that they are, if there is such a place, her sister will get to hold her son while she didn’t have a chance to even see him die. She holds the arm of the chair she’s sitting in until her knuckles go white. She feels like fainting.

Incompetent and despotic rulers have taken so many things from her: her family home, her parents when they sent her away, and now, while a different tyrant, the offence is the same, worse even, because they too have taken her son.

Louisa De Silva, mother of Aelius Anatole, is a doctor: she doesn’t need to be told all of this was preventable, but it was her son the one who paid the price.

Valerius

“Uncle! Uncle! Look at what I learnt today in my fencing lessons!” Anatole was 8 then.

“Uncle? Was that your boyfriend?” Anatole, aged 9, hanged from a tree branch to ask him that question.

“Uncle!” He had screamed of joy at 11, running to him in the Palazzo after Valerius moved permanently to Vesuvia.

Dearest Uncle, he had written at 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.

“Valeriy,” he had called him not two weeks ago, still so sure they would endure this. They are Radošević’s, they are Cassanos, the are Vesuvians but also Balkovian: that meant whatever life threw their way, they survived it.

Or they were.

Valerius feels a knot on his throat: he doesn’t have Anatole’s resolve, his progressive ideas, he doesn’t have his hope, and whatever amount of those he had himself, they died with him. They died with him, giving his life away for a city which would never appreciate him, which would never value him like he did. They did not deserve the soil of Anatole’s shoes and now he’s dead. The boy had given them summer without them asking, a summer which was snatched away from him: Anatole had slipped from his grip like sun-rays between his fingers. 

The world should stop without him. That it didn’t was an act of cruelty Valerius would never forgive, even if resentment poisoned him. No amount to lying to himself will change the fact his Aelius died, that he failed his brother in protecting him, that he will have no successor, no one to pass the Consulship to, and that no one will ever be worthy.

A year later, he will watch the Count burn in his bed, and he will smile: Good, he will think, If Anatole did not get to live, then neither should you.

[whiskeytango8686]

fic ask: 13, 20/21, 28, 31, 32! then 38 or 39 if you have time/inclination

Herrrrrrrrrre we go.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic? 

No, not really. My first fic (Shaken by a Low Sound) I had the big plot points all in my head from the very beginning, so an outline really didn’t feel necessary. My second one, (Somewhere I Didn’t Think I’d Follow) probably would have really benefitted from an outline, but I still didn’t do what. What I did do was as it went along, skipping through time, I created a timeline tracking every event I’d already written, so that I could easily look back at that and see everything in order. That was really helpful, especially because the generator I used let you assign actual dates, which kind of added a whole new layer to the events, seeing how close or how far apart they were in exact days, even if I was the only person who ever saw it.

20/21. What’s your favorite/least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Uh, well since I only just started writing fics, and started with The Last of Us, I think I’d definitely say it’s been cathartic. Getting to sit down and just button mash out feelings has been great. I mean, I’d like to say some sort of lofty, high minded ideal about the pleasures of writing for oneself and all that, but really, I think my favorite part is when I write something, and someone tells me that it connected with them. I think especially with the way things are now, that is really something special to me.

As far as least favorite thing, fuck, it’s hard, man! It takes forever to get something the way you want it, and it takes a lot out of you. It can be super frustrating just sitting there and no words coming out. I think I hate that the most.

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

All of my pressure has been internal, and I’m good at ignoring myself, so, eh. I wouldn’t say I’ve gotten any negative comments. I did get some that were... critical, but that’s fine. People are attached to these characters in their own ways. I might not be writing them in a way that matches their HC or what they WANT to be seeing, and it’s fine for them to say so. It’s also fine for them to... go read something that will be more in tune with what they do want to see.

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

I mean, Dina, with a bullet. She’s just fun to write. Trying to say this without sounding like an asshole, I don’t and can’t identify with the level of self-loathing that Ellie brings to the table, and that makes her just flat out harder to write for me, between the two protagonists I generally write for.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

Uh, well, started out super tame, and has gotten a little weird. “Shaken” was easy, wrote almost all it pretty linearly, each chapter top to bottom. I had one flashback I wrote that I ended up thinking didn’t fit for that chapter, but so I just ended up moving it to one down the line, easy. “Somewhere” has been a different animal. Not only are the parts of each chapter told out of order, but I often write them out of order as well, and then rearrange them. I also often write dialogue scenes like a screenplay, with no blocking (no “he says”, “she rubs her eyes”, etc) and then come back later and add it in, just because dialogue is difficult for me, made doubly so if I have to break my concentration to write out what characters are doing on top of what they’re saying.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Shit, I don’t know. I guess... so, I’ll give two answers, one that throws shade, and one that doesn’t. 1. I HATE in stories when side characters exist only to talk to the main characters about the main relationship or something similar, like they’re robots programmed only to care about that one thing. I HATE IT. So, I make an effort to not do that with my side characters. Whether I’m successful or not is up to everyone else. 2. I think I’m okay at creating a melancholy atmosphere, which I like in a story.  Thanks for the questions, E!

[rivkahstudies]

Quarantine Tag!

Are you staying home from work/school? yes. unlike everyone else in my fucking state.

2. If you’re staying home, who’s there with you? my brother, sister, and mom.

3. Do you have pets to keep you company? two really annoying (but super loveable) mutts named Kenzie and Melody. 

4. Who do you miss the most? Boston, my college friends, my partner most of all. 

5. When was the last time you left your home? Last... Thursday? Friday? time is fake but I went to get fast food.

6. What was the last thing you bought? chik fil a

7. Is quarantine driving you insane or are you finally relaxed? both. mostly insane. a little bit relaxed. I have a lot more time to focus on certain things because I’m not spending half of my day walking everywhere, but at the same time I have NO time because my profs are piling on work, I’m financially struggling, and I’m dealing with poor mental health.

8. Are you a homebody? yes, but not like this.

9. What movies have you watched recently? I have “movie night” with my partner via WhatsApp video calls and simultaneously pressing play. The last things I watched were The Proposal (rewatch) and Portrait of a Lady on Fire. We take turns choosing. Next weekend we will catch up on Jojo. 

10. An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled? Studying abroad in Argentina...

11. What’s the worst thing that you’ve had to cancel? Study abroad, all my plans with my partner... most seriously, spending my birthday with him. 

12. What’s the best thing you’ve had to cancel? I can’t think of anything good that was canceled. Except maybe getting out of the dorms quicker, I’ll have an off-campus apartment next sem.

13. Do you have any new hobbies? Nothing new, but rediscovering old loves like art and reading.

14. What are you out of? Motivation to finish classes and a will to keep doing this shit.

15. What music are you listening to? Mostly upbeat stuff, I hate purposefully depressing myself. A lot of Zac Brown Band (I’m a Southerner through and through), Dua Lipa, Lizzo, Taylor Swift... I’ll replay some songs until I hate them and then dive into a completely different genre.

15bis. What shows are you watching? Nothing atm but I want to pick The Good Place back up with my family. 

16. What are you reading? Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. Really looking forward to finishing it, I’m in the beginning of Part Five.

17. What are you doing for self-care? sleeping, not pushing myself to work from dawn to dusk, trying to do something fun each day, keeping up my beauty/health routines. 

18. Are you exercising? Yeah. I go on walks daily so I don’t go insane. Sometimes I bike or do circuit training but that’s a little harder.

19. How’s your toilet paper supply? Doing okay, but we have to time it to go RIGHT when the truck comes into the store or we don’t get any.

20. Have you made any changes to your hair during quarantine? Fuck! No! That’s a bad idea! If anyone needs to see this, leave your hair alone. It’s not worth it. You’re just looking to get some semblance of control back because of how scary everything is, but do something that takes less time to fix, like rearranging your room or cleaning the house or adopting a new hobby.

I tag @thekingsstudy @theonlysaylor and anyone else who wants to do this!

[charity-angel]

At the risk of tempting the universe/PTB to throw anything more at me, a brief summary of my weekend (with added background info that I bought my first house 2 months ago):

Saturday morning, arse o’clock: text from my mother saying she is sending my dad over and are there any jobs that need doing?

Yes, quite a few. Chief of which is I want to trace whatever fault means that half1 the spotlights in my kitchen aren’t working.2

Slightly later Saturday, more reasonable time: Dad arrives. Decides that since weather is nice, he's going to repair my back gate. Fair enough - it wasn't on my list, but it will mean I can actually open it whenever I need to rather than wrestling with it.

While helping him: Spot something that annoys me, and I have purchased the means to fix but not got around to actually doing it. The security light comes on no matter what time of day it is. It is currently broad daylight. Decide to amend this. Venture into basement, turn electricity off. Arm self with screwdrivers. Prepare to install switch rather than popping fuse out of wall all the time3.

Bit of swearing later: Fuse panel is off wall, but there is something going on outside. Venture out to find a guy out cold in the street running behind the terrace, with two teenage girls speaking to the 999 operator. As I kneel beside him to try and assess, he starts to come round - enough to say he doesn't want an ambulance. I try to get girls to not relay this to the operator, but they do and it's cancelled. He is CLEARLY still out of it. They hang up, go on their way, and he promptly passes out again.

Remind self of how to put someone into the recovery position. Lament that last time I did this it was a conscious, skinny PGCE student in her early twenties, and this is a grown-ass man who is not surreptitiously helping with the rolling over. I also can't get his hand under his head, so I hold his head up myself instead, while my dad finally decides I've been a while and rings 999 back4.

Takes them a while to get there. I think the call timer is over 20 mins. My back is in spasms, my left leg is going numb and pins & needles-y. The guy has vomited three times (thank fuck I rolled him). Paramedics manage to bring him round a bit - enough to get him to confess he's on methodone.

Ow, fucking ow: Have to go back to doing the electrical work, since the power is off and my dad now needs to charge the drill. Set about attaching the cables to the right bits. Discover that the cabling is too short to reach one of the terminals on the new switch. Fuck. Re-install fuse plate. Turn power back on. Thank whoever is listening that I don't seem to have screwed anything up.

Saturday, 2:45: Lunch. I have frozen bread, and a shit-load of eggs. Scrambled eggs on toast it is.

Maybe 3:15?: Dad sets about re-seating curtain pole in the spare room, with decent rawlplugs so that it will take the weight of the curtain my mum is making for it.

Not long later: That's done with minimal fuss5. Dad muses that could do with putting the rail back on the stairs6.

Couple of minutes later: Persuade him that could actually do with lifting the floor since I'd quite like to be able to see in the kitchen after nightfall, whereas the handrail is a minor inconvenience. We begin.

At this point, it is worth noting that I had tried this myself on Thursday evening only to discover the floor appears to be chipboard rather than floorboards. Also it is worth noting that the carpet was laid and then the skirting boards put down over it.

Half an hour later?: Free enough of the carpet to realise that the bed needs to be moved. And by moved, I mean effectively dismantled.

Another hour?: Bed semi-dismantled and on its side7, room totally rearranged. More skirting boards unscrewed, silicon sealant peeled from the walls, skirtings removed8, carpet screws removed, carpet rolled up as much as possible. We manage to prise one of the bits of chipboard up, only to realise that: a) the original floorboards are still mostly there underneath (although mostly not under this particular bit), and b) the majority of the fucking things have not only been screwed down over the floorboards, but also GLUED. I shit you not. Also that some of the boards extend underneath the plasterboard9 wall

We decide this is a bigger job than us and have to at least put the flooring back down and move things we had moved from there into my room back so I can at least get into bed. We decide not to do anything else as it will only need moving again.

Around 6pm: My poor dad heads home. I discover I have a stray text from my mum about half an hour earlier asking if he's still with me.

Not long later: Run bath. Pour self bowl of tesco's coco pops in lieu of meal I haven't got the spoons to cook.10

Ominous message from mother: She is coming over tomorrow to hang the curtain, and set the spare room right again.

Sunday, about 9am: Ow. Owowowowow. Break out the painkillers. Fuck. Browse AO3 for Rose/Ten fics since I have just binged their season and I have feels, okay?

11:30: Text from mother: she is heading over around 1: do I want anything picking up at the temperance bar since she is going?11

Around 12: Decide should get dressed. Painkillers doing their job. Get clean jeans since she is dragging me out for curtain hoops. I might not drive, but I at least know where I'm going.12

12:15: spot a big, ominous wet patch above my bedroom door that is just about to start dripping. FUCK!

Shove water cup under the impending drip, grab towel and slightly larger container, replace cup. Grab bigger container and head for loft access hatch.

Realise loft access is behind all this shit we moved around in the spare room yesterday. Double fuck. Set about moving it elsewhere so I can get in.

12:30:Ring Dad and ask if he can bring over his big set of stepladders as I suspect I probably could get myself into the attic space13, but would break my neck coming back down. Also I need a torch that is not my phone. He laments that Mum has taken the big car. I call her instead, get her to head home and stock up on essentials (ladders, torch, Dad). I decide to change into yesterday's scruffy jeans since this isn't likely to be a clean job.

About 1-1:15: They arrive, and my dad manoeuvres himself into the attic. This is impressive and just a lot of a dangerous move or two involved. It takes a second person (read: me), which means I have no chance of getting up there myself.

Issue is with the chimney stack and can't actually get a bucket under it. But by the light of my phone14 he can see multiple other issues. Although he does move a slate back into place so I can't see daylight between it and its next-door neighbour. Bless him.

2:15: decide to get some lunch and the curtain hoops. Head into town. Can't park15 Mum decides she isn't hungry, drops us at Costa (it's open, at least) and goes to get the hoops herself.

3-ish: Get back. Sort spare room so it is habitable. Because there is still a drip from my bedroom doorframe, so guess where I'm suddenly sleeping tonight. Hang curtain16.

4-ish: Decide to actually put the handrail back, so we can feel we've at least achieved something useful. This turns out to be a bigger job than anticipated because the fucking plaster keeps falling apart and the rawlplugs won't hold properly. And the ones that will, we don't have screws the right size for. I mean...

5:30-ish: Rail is up. They leave. I run bath as everything is ouch.

7-ish: Can no longer ignore fact that I can hear dripping in the bathroom. Get out while bath is still full to try and work out where the fuck it is coming from. Take side panel off bath17. Not obvious. The outlet pipe has drippy bits all along it. Can't get a container under it. Yay.

Shove microfibre cloth under just to try and contain dripping. Suspect the joint in the pipe where new plumbing has been connected to older is the issue, but seems to be from both bloody ends of the joint piece.

7:45-ish: Drain bath, turn shower on so can wash hair. Little later than anticipated - won't dry properly now18.

tl;dr: I hate my house and everything about it.

1. The half that are on the useful side of the kitchen. You know, where the sink and hob are. The ones that help me do things like cook and wash up after dark.

2. Spotlights embedded into ceilings are clearly one of Crowley's inventions.

3. I am not a qualified electrician, but I have studied electronics at school, been taught on the side by my engineer dad, and I know my limits. Do not do this yourself if you aren't absolutely sure of what you're looking at.

4. Can't do it myself as my battery is dead and, guess what - I've turned the electricity off so I can't charge it. And my landline is cordless, so that needs power too.

5. other than Dad not realising that my ceilings are a little lower than his and going 1 step too high on the ladder. Muppet.

6. I removed this about 2 days after I moved in because of the 4 brackets supposedly securing it to the wall, only 2 actually were. I was more liable to break my neck using it than not. It didn't take me long to realise that while removing it was a 1 woman job, putting it back required more hands. 4 more, as it transpires.

7. Dad manages to hit his head on one of the protruding legs of the bed. I swear...

8. Honestly. They were screwed to the wall and then silicon sealed along the top (and joining edges). The carpet was screwed to the floor under the boards.

9. Drywall, for anyone of an American disposition.

10. Ignore suspicious dripping sound. This turns out to be something of a mistake.

11. Fucking yes, I am almost out of all my cordials. Curse not living near it any more

12. Mostly. One-way systems are a touch tricky when you don't have to obey them. As are bus-only routes.

13. On later reflection, this is incredibly doubtful since I lack the upper body strength to haul myself several feet straight up.

14. Because they brought a curtain and cushions as well as the big stepladder, but not a torch.

15. Also not something I have to think about often.

16. Discover Mum and I have been talking cross-purposes as to which side of the window it is going on. Fortunately this is not a massive issue.

17. Inventory of the under-bath: 2 bags grout, 1 tub of paint, 1 jigsaw piece, 1 part of an old loo roll holder, about 50cm of 1cm diameter dowel, 1 electrical cable that is quite possibly live given that an attempt has been made to insulate it inside a plastic bag. What is not there is the wooden frame that should support the sides of the plastic bath.

18. There are many advantages to the care and maintenance of curly hair. Not being able to blow-dry it is NOT one of them. Not having to, otoh, is.

[raccoonwritings]

A Drink Away from Honesty Chapter 2

Childhood Friends AU (angst with a happy ending, be warned)

Lucas is an oversharing drunk, Eliott is both desperate and dramatic, and everyone is trying to just keep everything straight.

Or alternatively, Lucas and Eliott were childhood best friends until a storm tears them apart and brings them back together.

(Title from “Don’t Miss Me?” by Marianas Trench)

Chapter 2: Meet Choupi

Lucas (16) and Eliott (18)

Samedi 11:34

Lucas wakes up with a headache that thumps and a need for water that is overpowered by the desire to get more sleep. He shouldn’t have gotten crossed, he knows, but it was all he could do to keep himself from thinking about Eliott. Meeting him again after this long must have been a dream, right? Ugh, thinking about it makes Lucas’ head pound more. He just needs to sleep.

 Samedi 13:02

Lucas definitely hasn’t slept enough when Mika abruptly opens the door, shouting at Lucas to get his lazy ass out of bed, and pulling the blinds up to allow sunlight into the room.

“Up, kitten, up! You live in that bed!” Mika enthusiastically chants while crawling into Lucas’ bed with him. How ironic.

“Hnggg,” Lucas responds intelligently with his face smushed up against his incredibly flat pillow. He should really buy a new one. If his dad ever sends him money, of course.

“Well, aren’t you just the master of words this morning,” Mika sing songs. He snuggles up next to Lucas and receives a glare and another unintelligible noise. He soon finds Lisa joining the both of them in bed.

“You know what would get him up, Mika?” Lisa ponders knowingly.

“Why didn’t you mention sooner?” Mika extracts his phone from his pocket and pulls up Tinder. Lucas sees him clip the app icon and he is out. Despite having no energy and the pounding headache from before, he frantically detaches himself from the mattress and climbs over Lisa to reach the door.

“Sorry Mika, I have no desire to see the dicks of your Tinder hookups, or pictures of your dick,” Lucas grumbles, pushing down on the door handle and heading towards the bathroom.

Maybe a shower would help. Plus, he does smell a little of weed and shitty beer. A shower it is.

He walks out of the bathroom 20 minutes later, toweling his hair dry. Opting to grab some water before crawling back into bed, he makes a beeline for kitchen and searches the cabinet for a clean glass. There are used glasses in his room, on his desk, that he could wash and reuse, but that is far too much effort. Rearranging the far-left cabinet leads Lucas to find the secret set of nice glasses Mika must use for special occasions? Maybe they belonged to Manon and she left them here when she moved? Who knows. All that matters is that Lucas has a glass and can finally retreat back into his room.

With a half full glass of water – he chugged the first half – and a slightly damp towel, he treks back into bed. Finally, he’s alone. The water has helped his headache a little, but a pain killer couldn’t hurt. He downs a store brand equivalent of Tylenol and pulls out his phone for the first time that day to check his messages. Most were from the boys, just talking about the party last night, asking Lucas how far he went with Chloe, which he ignores with his entire being. He doesn’t want to talk about Chloe, who – of course – just then sends him a friend request on Facebook. He hates that he accepts, but he has to keep up the façade that he’s into her. This is enough to make him toss his phone aside and curl up in his singular blanket. Glancing around his room for something, anything to distract him, his eyes land on the recently empty cage that’s perched on his dresser. He really doesn’t want to think about that or anything else for that matter and actively ignores everything until his phone pings a short time later.

From: Unknown Number

Hey

 To: Unknown Number

Who is this?

 From: Unknown Number

How was your night with that girl?

 Lucas couldn’t help but let out a huff. Who the fuck was this person asking about yesterday? He didn’t want to talk about it.

To: Unknown Number

Who is this?

 Lucas isn’t answering any questions until he knows who he’s talking to. Unfortunately, he was waiting for a good hour before he discovered who has his number.

From: Unknown Number

You never gave me back my orange marker

 For the love of God. Lucas is over this. He has no desire to talk to Eliott at all, except Eliott is obviously not feeling the same.

From: Don’t Answer

I was really attached to that orange marker, Lucas. It meant a lot to me!

It broke my heart when you never returned it.

 It broke his heart? The audacity of him, honestly, to say that Lucas broke his heart. His sympathy and any naïve thought to respond was gone in an instant, only to be replaced by an all-consuming anger. A deep-seated sadness. This was the person who changed everything for him and left him to deal with the aftermath. The person who left him to retreat back into a skin he craved to shed. The person who forgot about him and was back again only to remind him of that.

 Lucas (9) and Eliott (11)

Mercredi 15:19

“Mom says I can get a dog!” Lucas exclaims as he sits on Eliott’s bed. They had both gotten out of a class not long ago and it was tradition that they head to Eliott’s to watch movies and goof off.

“That’s cool! Except, dogs are so last year,” Eliott replies, sitting across from Lucas in his neon yellow desk chair. Lucas huffs.

“What do you mean “so last year”? All the kids in my class are getting dogs for Christmas this year!” Lucas defends his desire for a fluffy companion. Dogs were, are a classic.

“They were like all the craze last year. You know what animal is on the rise this year?” Eliott responds animatedly. Lucas loves seeing his best friend like this even though he sounds like a complete idiot.

“What animal is on the rise this year, Eliott? Please, enlighten me,” Lucas rolls his eyes and emphasizes the ‘enlighten’. If Eliott didn’t get that he was being sarcastic, than he would really wouldn’t understand people at all.

“Obviously, my sarcasm has rubbed off on you, and normally I’d say that you following in my footsteps is the way it should be, but considering you’re only nine, I’d say maybe dial it back a bit. Okay?” He smiles, crooked and genuine. Lucas nods and returns a toothy smile, encouraging Eliott to continue since he still hasn’t unveiled what animal has become the most popular. “Alright, so a dog is great, yeah, but what about a hedgehog?!” Eliott finishes his question with another smile and jazz hands, causing Lucas to burst out in laughs.

“A hedgehog? Really? How are they better than a dog?” Lucas crosses his arms over his body and awaits the other boy’s response.

“They are! They’re cute, don’t require walks, or are ridiculously needy. I don’t know, they just remind me you a bit, too.” Lucas’ heart warms at Eliott indirectly calling him cute. He doesn’t understand exactly why, but it makes him feel good. He knows his cheeks are reddening, but luckily Eliott has turned around to face his laptop and is in the process of searching for pictures of baby hedgehogs. He finds a particularly cute picture and beckons Lucas to his side, which he immediately follows.

Lucas can’t not admit that the baby hedgehog is quite cute, but he’d never admit that to his friend. He would never admit to him that he wanted one now, slightly because of the fact that these small animals reminded Eliott of him and very much because of the idea of not having to put forth a ton of effort in walking it and cleaning up its shit.

Lucas also wouldn’t admit, at least right now, that when he arrives at home that night for dinner, he asks his mom, pleads with her, to let him get a hedgehog. She denies him for the moment and asks him why he’s had a sudden change of heart, considering he had been pleading for a dog for months on end. He wouldn’t admit the real reason to her either.

Months later, after Lucas’ 10th birthday, Eliott is bounding up the stairs leading to Lucas’ bedroom and knocking open the door with clumsy force. Lucas is standing in front of his dresser, which dons a shiny new cage, with his arms wrapped around something small. He turns and smiles wide at his best friend.

“Meet Choupi!” He exclaims, removing one of his hands to reveal a baby hedgehog. Eliott’s grin is wild.

“You took my advice!” He says, bouncing his way over to Lucas on the other side of the room. He leans down to get a closer look at the small animal when he makes a revelation. “Wait, Choupi?! Really, Lucas?” Eliott laughs with his body and looks to see his friend blushing.

“I’m not that creative, okay! There’s no need to make fun.” Lucas says, turning away from his friend. He’s a bit embarrassed now.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it to be mean. It’s cute, I like it. It reminds me of you,” Eliott says, smiling tentatively. Lucas’ is no longer embarrassed when he meets his friends eyes, eyes that are full of nothing but warmth.

“Want to hold him?”

“YES!” Lucas giggles at the excitement. He tells Eliott to open his hands and slowly glides Choupi into his palm. It’s not a surprise that Choupi takes an immediate liking to his best friend. He totally understands.

 Lucas (16) and Eliott (18)

Samedi 14:06

Lucas just stares at his phone. He can feel the anger bubbling. How dare he come back into his life like this. How dare he up root all the damage control he’s done. Well, he hasn’t exactly done anything yet, but Lucas knows a storm is coming. Eliott left with a storm and he’ll come back with a storm, Lucas knows. He used to love those storms.

He loses himself in his thoughts and doesn’t feel his phone ping again.

From: Don’t Answer

Please talk to me.

 Lucas feels torn. A deep part of him, a part he has worked so hard to push down, wants to talk to him. He wants to feel connected to him again, but he knows that it is only going to hurt more in the end. He’s just going to leave again and Lucas can’t survive another one of that. He’s out of tape to piece his heart back together.

To: Don’t Answer

Leave me alone

 From: Don’t Answer

Aha!  You’re talking to me!

 Lucas rolls his eyes.

From: Don’t Answer

So, how are you?

I’m good, thanks for asking

I could go for a coffee though

Wanna join me?

I’ll be down at the coffee shop

You know the one

The one we always went to

Our coffee shop

 Lucas is dumb found. ‘Our coffee shop.’ They weren’t a ‘we.’ There was no ‘our.’ At least not anymore. Lucas contemplates for a several minutes before another ping from his cellphone makes the decision for him.

From: Don’t Answer

Shit, I forgot. I have to see Lucille later. I’m really sorry. Raincheck?

 Lucas laughs bitterly, tossing his phone to the side. Yeah, raincheck.

[foreverandalwayscrysis]

The 100 Ask Game

I was tagged by @talistheintrovert and @prophecy-gurl, the loves of my life <3

1. What Station on the Ark would you be from? Mmm, probably Go-Sci or Alpha, since my dad was a geneticist - maybe they’d put me in Medical or something lmao.

2. What would you get arrested for on the Ark? Standing up for injustices/trying to help people who were being treated unfairly.

3. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground? Yeah, I’d give it Monty.

4. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh..) Maybe a dolphin/whale or a turtle.

5. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be? WELLS!!!!

6. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they? Bellamy, Clarke, Monty, Harper, and Murphy.

7. What Grounder Clan would you belong to? Either Floukru or Trishanakru.

8. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? I think they’d just change the “sha” part to a “sah” or more of a hissing “ss” sound, so it’d be Ay-sah, instead of what it is currently, Eisha (pronounced e-sha).

9. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious. He was a good character to have on the show and I think they wrote him well, but I definitely never loved him.

10. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does? I wouldn’t have been that willing.

11. What character do you relate to most? my homegirl Clarke - we even have the dead dad category checked off!

12. What character do you like the least? Echo kom get lost. She was a grounder in a cage, and she should’ve stayed a grounder in a cage.

13. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles? Be creative, yet practical) Mmm, jeans, combat boots, a full-sleeved t-shirt with either a cardigan with pockets or a jacket

14. Favorite type of mutant animal? Oooh, I LOVED the two-headed deer we saw in season 1. I wouldn’t mind more crazy forest animals.

15. What would your job be on the Ark? Medical assistant/scribe, something along those lines.

16. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked? Yeah, I don’t get squeamish easily (I’ve watched surgeries on YouTube aksdjlk), and if I can help Clarke in any way, I’m doing it.

17. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she was still alive, then who would have made the best commander? Indra by far.

18. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty? Honestly, I’d get super emotional.

19. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or Bellamy Blake approach? The Blake approach.

20. Who should have been the Chancellor, if anyone? Ideally, no one - every station/govt gets equal representation and people listen to actual problems.

21. Would you have been on Pike’s side like Bellamy or on Kane’s side? Or Clarke in Polis? Kane’s side - and maybe I’d go to look for Clarke but I’d die within a day, so.

22. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s iPod) What is the one thing you would snatch while there? A tablet/phone, anything to read from or play music on tbh.

23. What would your Grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint? No tattoos, possibly dark war paint on my face or arms, and a short-to-medium hairstyle, either a variety of braids or pinned back.

24. Favorite quote? “Your life can be more than just impossible decisions and a tragic end. You can choose to live.” - Wells Jaha

25. If all of the characters were in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning? Lincoln, Luna, Anya, Indra, Bellamy, Clarke, I can’t pick.

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite canon ship? Favorite non-canon ship? NOT INCLUDING CL OR BC OR BE 

Favorite canon ship: Marper

Favorite non-canon: Wellven, Ice Mechanic.

27. A song that should be included in the next season? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo? I am so behind on all music lately, it’s sad. I’d love to hear some Florence or Hozier but I really want Shawn back - he can’t just disappear!

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time? Oh gosh, um - well at least we wouldn’t go crazy from isolation alone. I’d read, sing, maybe dance around/stretch to keep from atrophying, rearrange stuff and then rearrange it again, complain about Blarke being oblivious idiots in love.

29. You’re an extra that gets killed off. How do you die? Spear! Or poisonous berries. Maybe multiple arrows.

30. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of? MY TRUE QUEEN DIYOZA

31. A character you’d bang? Besides Bellamy? Wells.

32. Would you stay in the Bunker? Go up to Space? Or live on your own in Eden? Yeah, I’m gonna stay in Eden.

33. In the Bunker, would you follow Octavia? What would you do to pass the time underground? Unless I wanna get killed, yeah. Do the minimum to stay out of sight and her warpath. I could see myself writing diary entries I guess.

34. What crime would you commit in the Bunker that lands you in the fighting pits? Oooh - them finding my diary entries and seeing how negatively I feel towards Blodreina.

35. Up in Space, who would you bond with first? Who would be the most difficult for you to get along with? Either Monty or Harper. Echo and I will not be friends.

36. How long do you think you would last on Earth by yourself? I honestly don’t know. I’d like to think I’d make it a year.

37. When the Eligius ship lands what do you do? Ahaha, run and hide, possibly misguide them if I can do it safely.

38. Favorite Eligius character? Least favorite? Favorite: DIYOZAAA. Least and worst: McCreary.

39. Would you Spacewalk? Maaaybe? I have a fear of heights and assuming it’s lessened and/or gone by the time I’ve gotten used to space, I’d be open to the idea.

40. Would you prefer to eat Windshield Bugs, Space Algae, or Bunker Meat? Windshield Bugs, baby.

41. Would you start a war for the last spot of green on earth? What would your solution be to avoid it? No, the war wouldn’t solve anything. It’s all about compromise - everyone wants to live, and people like to stay in their communities, so we’d need to figure out a way to build cities/towns that help all different kinds of people. 

42. Would you rather dig out flesh-eating worms or stick thumb drives into bullet holes? Dig out flesh-eating worms, no doubt.

43. Are you willing to poison your sister for the Traitor Who You Love? What would you do to stop Octavia? If my sister became Octavia-levels of crazy, yeah, but I’m not a shoot-first kinda gal so I’d try to reason and logic my way into dismantling everything.

44. Would you go to sleep in cryo or stay awake like Marper? I would sleep, but it can depend on who else wants to stay awake.

45. Who are you waking up first to explore the new planet? My faves, Bellamy & Clarke, followed by Miller, Murphy, Raven (staying on the ship), Diyoza, Shaw, and Emori. And if someone needs to be the scapegoat, Echo.

This was super long but I had fun answering these questions!! Tagging a few people below: @lameblake @chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky @captaindaddykru @nvermindiseeyou @clarkgriffon @anne-shirley-blythe @hopewolves @chants-de-lune @goddess-clarke @aainiouu @loveisalwayswise @harpermacintyre @hermionegranger @fen-ha-fuck-you @frecklessbellamy

[psicomma-s-very-secret-lab]

#ask.1 : Shaun and Tony

(For some reason the askbox on this blog doesn't work so I guess if you've got asks about the characters you can just DM me your question and I'll do a screenshot and answer in a regular post)

@ramblingpolkadots sent me that and I gotta say it's a very interesting topic to me since the relationship between Tony and Shaun is very decisive during Blindsight.

First of all, that friendship is the most incongruous thing given the circumstances where Tony and Shaun met.

Tony is the son of Gene Nocenti, one of Chester's enemies. Blindsight begins shortly after Shaun and Ani get attacked by some guys affiliated to the Nocenti clan during a night out. Both of them manage to get out alive; Shaun got beaten, and Ani got shot in the leg, but all their opponents winded up dead or severely injured. It was the case of Silver Nocenti, Gene's youngest son and Tony's dear baby brother. He wasn't supposed to be here that night- Silver was stabbed in the face by Ani and died after a few days at the hospital.

Of course, the vendetta was de rigueur for the Nocentis, but Tony is the one to be truly upset about Silver's passing. His death ravaged him; Silver was the only good soul in that family of rascals and he most definitely did not deserve to go first. That's why avenging him becomes a personal business for Tony.

While the rest of the clan was busy pressuring Chester aka. Pluto to get him to deliver the whore that committed the offense, Tony investigated on his own and ended up finding Ani's phone, that she had lost during the infamous night of the attack.

He manages to track them down and finds the apartment where Shaun and Ani were hiding and attacks them at the moment when they least expect it. While Tony was clever enough to find Shaun and Ani on his own, he didn't have the presence of mind to tell anyone what he was up to and going solo was definitely not a good idea since the attack failed and he ends up being captured and held hostage by Shaun.

At that point, things get weird, and uncomfortable as fuck. Ani can't look at Tony in the eye because the guilt is killing her; she never meant to kill a man, she never thought she could do such a thing, it was an accident. And of course Tony can't look at Ani either because even though the sorrow and the rage are eating him from inside, he knows the moment he lays his eyes on her that yes, she's telling the truth, she didn't mean to do that, and yes, it was an accident. That girl is harmless. Worse than that; she's actually a good person, offering to take care of his wounds, bringing him food and everything. It would've been so much easier if she had been crazy, unstable, violent... But he couldn't put the blame on her. Ani's kindness even reminded Tony of Silver and he knew that killing her to avenge him would not only make him feel worse but also would be the dumbest thing to do ever.

Shaun believes that the capture of Tony will make the Nocentis change their mind and that they'd finally be willing to give up on Ani. What Shaun didn't expect is that Tony is the black sheep of the clan; as an illegitimate son of the big boss, he has a lot less value than his brothers. The negotiations go on for a few days and that's when Shaun and Tony get to know each other and realize they actually have a lot in common.

Shaun and Tony more or less have the same job. They both got blood on their hands, and they both follow the orders of a fatherly figure. They're not professionals; they're naturals- in the way that they grew up in violence, and both their families had been involved in criminal activities for generations before they were born, so they're that kind of guys who never really got the choice. They're both driven by rage, (Tony's rage is contingent though, unlike Shaun's rage which is pathological and chronic) and feel guilty for the unspeakable things they've done in the past. Also, neither of them condone violence against women.

Last thing they've got in common is boxing. Shaun started boxing when he was 13, and Tony started boxing and wrestling at 8 (the only thing that ever made his dad proud of him tbh) and believe it or not, even if he's one inch or two shorter than Shaun, and a few pounds lighter, Tony is a much better fighter than him, and by far. Which is kind of a big deal, cause Shaun is pretty much of a killing machine.

They started to bond when Tony was in the living room, handcuffed. Shaun was punching a bag in "the white room" (an empty bedroom in the apartment that Shaun more or less rearranged into an exercise room- also the place where he locks himself up when he feels the rage kicking in) the door was half open and Tony could see Shaun's reflection in the mirror so he observed him and his shadow for a while before saying something like "Your legs are slow" loud enough so that Shaun could hear. Shaun slammed the door as an answer and that was the end of the first exchange.

But yeah as time goes by and they end up having no choice but to spend time with each other (cause someone's got to keep an eye on Tony who is, after all, a hostage). Tony understands that Shaun is his brother's puppet and that he didn't even want to be involved in the conflict he had with the Nocentis in the first place. Shaun understands that Tony isn't like the rest of his family and didn't approve of the way they retaliate in general.

At some point, Tony, worn out by the captivity, begs Shaun for a cigarette. He agrees to give him a cig, Tony takes a drag, nervously.

"So what is she to you exactly, huh?"

"What?"

"Ani. She's not your girl. Or at least not really am I wrong?"

"Not your goddamn business."

"I've seen you two arguing, bantering, making out, and I've heard you fucking like cats in heat for the past four days. I'm so involved I feel violated. I think we've crossed the “not-your-goddamn-business” line honestly."

"Why do you wanna know that anyway?"

"I don't know. You do nasty things for your brother, I do nasty things for my dad. Guys like us generally aren't allowed to care that much about someone."

"You cared enough about your brother to risk your life by coming here."

"It's not the same."

"It's exactly the same."

*There's a silence, Tony finishes his cigarette*

"Silver always thought of me as a role model. I always wanted him to have a good life, cause, well, he was good. Guess I fucked up. You wanted to keep Ani away from all your shit and you fucked up too. We're both shitty at protecting people we love."

Shaun left after a minute without saying anything. He went back an hour later throwing a blanket at Tony's face and going back to the bedroom.

I've got some more ideas for them during Blindsight: like I'm pretty sure at some point, Shaun will cut Tony loose for a sparring session and Tony's gonna beat his ass and Shaun will be like 'wtf?? I'm 20 pounds heavier than you!' - also Tony learns about Shaun being bisexual and he goes like 'oh. okay. good for you, man' and it's actually the first time Shaun saw a straight guy reacting like that after learning about his bisexuality. And it's thanks to that incongruous friendship Ani doesn't end up savagely murdered at the end of Blindsight. (I'm not elaborating on that cuz I don't wanna spoil! I still hope I'll be able to finish this story one day and that it will be available for you to read! ;__;)

Tony and Shaun are probably gonna meet again after Blindsight cause, well, I like these two together. And I like to imagine Ani being falsely jealous of Tony like "Huuuh you're going to see your boyfriend! :D"